Children of the Plains tb-1

by Paul Cook

He began at the lower opening and worked around the cave wall to his left. The floor here was rougher. Hard stone had been gouged out in some way, leaving long troughs in the floor. Each groove was as wide as his hand, and they occurred in close groups of three at a time.

  He found more of the oval leaves along the wall, though most were green with mold. Amero tried to bend one, as he’d seen Duranix do. Arms quivering with effort, he managed to put a slight bend in one. How firm they were! He put one on the floor and stomped it, gaining nothing but an aching foot. With a loose stone, he hit the leaf with all his strength. A clear ringing sound echoed through the cave. The blow left a small dent in the leaf and broke off the tip of the stone cleanly.

  These things could be useful, he mused. They were already well shaped for digging. He could scrape away a lot of soil with one.

  Amero walked slowly along the uneven floor toward the rear of the cave. Aside from loose stones and the odd golden-red leaves, he found little else of interest until he came to Duranix’s sleeping place.

  In the corner he discovered a heap of bones, many charred and splintered. This explained the sour smell in the cave. Duranix apparently enjoyed a variety of game, as there were bones of elk, deer, and oxen. Then Amero found something that froze the blood in his veins: a fleshless human skull.

  Oto always said the spirits of the dead clung to their bones. That’s why the dead had to be buried. If you left their bones lying around, their ghost would wander the land, doing evil.

  Yet there was something pathetic about that dry white lump of bone. Curiosity overcame fear and Amero picked up the skull gingerly. It was big. The jaw had come off, and there wasn’t a shred of meat left on it anywhere. On the back were deep, converging gouges. The bone had splintered there.

  Amero put down the skull and wished peace to the spirit of the man who had once inhabited it. He decided not to dig further in the bone pile. He didn’t want to know if other humans had died here, perhaps — he shuddered to think it — eaten by Duranix. He determined to leave the cave as soon as possible. He would find a way to live, maybe even a whole new family. Anything was better than being eaten by — whatever kind of creature Duranix was.

  With renewed vigor he searched the platform and all around it, looking for a passage out of the cave. There was none. All he found in the rest of the chamber were a large heap of hides and skins and piles of the hard red-gold “leaves.”

  He almost wept with frustration. This high above the ground, how could he get out? He couldn’t fly like a bird, bat, or bug. How did Duranix enter and leave without harm?

  Amero recalled his captor’s exit (how quickly Duranix had gone from host to captor in his mind). The strange man put on his long cape and flung himself through the wall of water, vanishing. The cape — why did he need the cape? To keep the water off, or was there a different reason?

  Odd images from his flying dream flitted through his mind: rushing over the ground, the wind whipping his hair, the stars racing by. He imagined Duranix spreading his arms like a bird, the cape billowing out behind him like wings. Could a man really fly like that? Amero thought it unlikely. Was there power in the cape, spirit-power? He had no answer for that.

  Yet not everything that flew had wings. In the spring, elms and maples cast their seeds on the wind. These fluttered and spun long distances, but they always came to earth somewhere, unbroken. Was that it? Was that the secret of Duranix’s cape?

  He scrounged through the hides, looking for a likely scrap. All the pieces were too large. He tried to tear off a portion of pigskin, but it was too tough. He needed a flint knife or some other sharp stone.

  The cavern was hollowed out of a sandstone cliff. All the loose pieces of sandstone on the floor, though good for polishing the bark off a spear shaft, were incapable of holding a sharp edge.

  The strange leaves, Duranix’s so-called rubbish, were certainly hard and fairly thin. Amero tried sawing at a hide with the edge of one, but the leaf was too dull. Taking up a palm-sized chunk of sandstone, Amero scraped one side of the leaf, trying to hone it thinner and sharper.

  It worked very well. After a few minutes’ work, he cut his thumb on the resulting edge. Bleeding but triumphant, Amero quickly sliced out a piece of hide, which would make a cape for him comparable in size to Duranix’s.

  Even after his success in cutting the hide, Amero couldn’t bring himself to tie on the cape and leap off the cliff. Perhaps he should test his idea first.

  He slashed out a smaller piece of buckskin, more square, and cut a few strips of hide as thongs. An elk skull, antlers still attached, would serve to give weight to his experiment. He tied the skull to the hide with four thongs, one to each comer of the buckskin. Amero carried this odd-looking assembly to the opening. Taking a deep breath, he rolled it over the edge.

  The elk skull dropped, snapping the four thongs taut. The square of buckskin filled with air and billowed up. Swinging gently back and forth, the strange contraption drifted down the side of the cliff very slowly indeed.

  Amero’s heart raced. It worked!

  Then the floating skull humped into the cliff wall, swung away, and got caught in the downdraft of the falls. As soon as the plunging water hit the hide, it collapsed and went tumbling into the permanent bank of mist at the foot of the falls.

  Amero sat back, shaken. Yes, it could be done, but only if he kept away from the waterfall. That’s why Duranix had leaped through the water. He was able to do it because he was preternaturally strong. If Amero tried it and failed, he wouldn’t have long to mourn his lack of success.

  The cave was growing brighter. Sunlight had crept up the cliff all morning and now was shining through the waterfall into the recesses of the cave. The pulsating, blue-tinged light threw everything in the chamber into strong relief, including the human skull Amero had found. The white bone shell glowed in the midday light, and the sight of it galvanized Amero to action.

  With his tool he cut wide strips of hide and tied his ankles and wrists to the ox skin he’d chosen. He gathered the hide to his chest and waddled to the lower opening. At the last moment he stuck the sharpened gold leaf into the waist of his loincloth. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He cast one look back at the skull. Empty eye sockets gave him the encouragement he needed.

  Amero sprang from the rim with all the force his legs could give. He hit the waterfall, and for a fleeting moment felt the power of the roaring column of water. Then he was tumbling through open air, head over heels. He opened his eyes and saw the sun and clifftop careen past. He let go of the hide and it fluttered and flopped like a living thing. Down he plummeted. He rolled over on his back to get away from the flailing ox skin. It caught the air and filled. Amero was jerked upward, snatched painfully by his wrists and ankles. His fall slowed greatly, but he was still going down fast enough to make the wind whistle in his ears. Worse, he was tumbling backward and couldn’t see where he was going — he saw only the ox hide above him.

  It was difficult shifting the hide straps around his wrists, but he managed to flop over on his stomach. He wished he hadn’t. Below was the lake of the falls, rushing toward him at sickening speed. Amero opened his mouth and screamed.

  He was still screaming when he hit the water. It felt almost as hard as hitting the ground. The air was driven from his chest and water rushed into his mouth and nose. Kicking furiously, he tried to rise to the surface, only to find his progress blocked by the sinking ox hide.

  Nianki had been a better swimmer than he, a fact he regretted as he struggled to free himself. A painful poke in the ribs reminded him of his new tool. He drew it and cut the four straps. Kicking away from the confining hide, Amero broke the surface a few paces away.

  He dragged himself ashore on a sandy spit. As he lay on his back gasping for air, Amero could see the dark circular openings in the cliff face behind the waterfall. They were so high up, yet here he was, alive on the ground!

  Amero sat up and winced. His ribs ached. He had cuts on his ha
nds and chest from the sharp tool, but none of that mattered. He was free again! It was time to put as much distance as possible between himself and Duranix. When sunset came and the strange spirit-man returned, would he come looking for Amero? Or, like a wise fisherman, would he not waste time on one that got away?

  Amero hefted the golden tool. What this thing needed was a handle of some kind, some way to carry it so he wouldn’t get cut all the time. Maybe a split shaft, like Nianki’s hunting club had?

  Amero went to the water’s edge and waded along the shore. The outflow from the falls would obscure his footprints in the sandy bottom and make it harder for Duranix to track him. With luck, he could be far away before sunset.

  Luck was not with him, however. The terrain around the lake was rugged. There were no trails, and in making his own way, Amero had to tread on rocks and gravel washed down the ravine by winter rains. The sharp shards bit into his feet, drawing blood. He’d gone barefoot all his life, and his feet were tough, but he’d never had to contend with conditions like this.

  When the sun started to dip below the surrounding mountain peaks, Amero was still within sight of the waterfall. Desperation made him careless. He abandoned the shaded slope of the valley and jogged down to the floor of the ravine.

  It was more level there, so the going was easier, but he was in plain sight of anyone on the high ground around him.

  The trees in the area were mostly pines and oaks, very tall and widely spaced. A flock of starlings flew over, and the dark shadow they cast frightened Amero into the bushes. When he saw the birds wheel about and return, he emerged from hiding.

  “You! Stop!”

  He spun around and saw four men rushing toward him. They looked like plainsmen, except they wore more clothing. They were all of an age, four or five seasons older than Amero, and alike enough to be brothers. They ringed him with leveled spears. One, whose dark hair was plaited into a single thick braid, shouted, “Stand still, or we’ll kill you!”

  “Please!” Amero said. “I have nothing! I’ve done nothing!”

  “You came from the lake of the falls, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but — ” Amero began, and found four spears pressed into his chest and back.

  “I thought so!” said the man with the braid. “You’re the monster who lives in the cave behind the falls.”

  “No, I’m not! I escaped from the cave today.”

  Another of the men, with a large black mole on his cheek, shook his spear and scoffed, “Oh, yes? And how did you do that?”

  “I used an ox hide — ” Amero stopped his explanation abruptly. He had floated down beneath an ox hide. It was the truth, but it didn’t sound like the truth. Indeed, it sounded ridiculous.

  “We’ve seen you fly in and out of the cave, monster, and we know you can take on human shape. You’ve killed off all the elk and deer in this range. Our children go hungry!” The man with the braid raised his voice, his face reddening with rage. “And what did you do with our father, Genta? Last autumn he went hunting for you and never came back!”

  The skull in Duranix’s cave had belonged to a big man, he suddenly remembered. All four of the hunters — all four brothers — were head and shoulders taller than Amero.

  “I’m not the monster,” he insisted. “I was taken captive by Duranix — that’s his name — but I escaped. I dived into the lake and swam ashore. My name is Amero, son of Oto and Kinar.”

  “Don’t lie to us, dragon!”

  Dragon? The word meant nothing to Amero. “No,” he insisted, “my name is Amero.”

  Two of the hunters prodded him from behind. Amero staggered forward, stung by the sharp spear points. The angry hunters might kill him at any time. He pointed to his cut and abraded feet and held out his scraped hands.

  “Look at me!” he declared. “I bleed, as you do. Does your monster bleed? Is dragon’s blood red?”

  Mole-face grasped his hand, running a callused thumb over Amero’s lacerated palm. “Feels like a girl’s hand,” he muttered.

  Amero snatched his hand back indignantly. “I’m not the monster you seek, but he is returning at dusk from his day’s hunt. We should get away from here, quickly, before he finds us.”

  The brothers had a loud debate over what to do. The eldest, the one with the braid, was called Annom. He wanted to kill Amero just in case he was the dragon. Mole-face, called Hatu by the others, had a sounder idea. They would tie up Amero and hide, watching the cave to see if Duranix returned. If he did, then Amero’s story would have more weight. Perhaps he would swoop down and they could capture him. If he didn’t return, they would know Amero was actually Duranix and could cut his throat then.

  The brothers agreed on Hatu’s plan. They lashed Amero’s hands behind his back with a length of vine and shoved him into the brush. Hatu cut a leafy bough and used it to erase their tracks in the sand. The two younger brothers, Ramay and Nebo, crouched on either side of Amero, their spears digging into the boy’s ribs. Annom scanned the sky a while, then joined the others under cover.

  The sun sank behind the western ridge, painting the highest peaks crimson and pink. Twilight came and shadows lengthened. The sky remained clear.

  When Soli, the white moon, appeared in a notch between the northern peaks, Annom cleared his throat.

  “The dragon has lied to us.”

  They hauled Amero out and threw him to his knees. Annom drew back his spear.

  “Wait!” Amero cried shrilly. “I’m not your monster!”

  “Enough lies! Before I kill you, tell me what happened to our father!”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been to this valley before in my life! I am Amero, son of Oto and Kinar, brother of Nianki and Menni — ”

  Hatu snorted loudly in disbelief. Annom flexed strong fingers around the shaft of his spear and prepared to cast.

  I’m going to die! was Amero’s horrified thought.

  Though flushed with terror-driven heat, Amero suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. The cooling twilight air vibrated, as from distant thunder. The boy turned his head, suddenly realizing what was coming.

  Annom apparently felt nothing out of the ordinary, but merely stared coldly at him. “Die, monster,” he said.

  Amero shook his head. “Too late,” he whispered.

  An invisible hand swept down the ravine, throwing everyone to the ground. Amero found it hard to rise with his hands bound, but the four brothers were up in an instant. They formed a circle, all facing outward.

  Duranix came strolling out of the encroaching shadows, his cape draped over one arm. The three younger brothers uttered cries of amazement. Without a word, Annom hurled his spear. Duranix deflected it with a mere wave of his hand.

  “You! How did you get down here?” Duranix demanded of Amero. Hatu lined up to charge him while the others covered Amero with their spears.

  “I jumped,” the boy replied wearily. His fear of Duranix had not abated, but he knew he’d lost his chance of escape.

  Hold your breath. Duranix’s thought reverberated in Amero’s head. Wisely, the boy asked no questions but did as he was told.

  Hatu, yelling loudly, charged with spear leveled. Duranix awaited his attack with complete calm. When the big plainsman was just six steps away, Duranix opened his mouth and blew in the direction of his attacker.

  Hatu staggered and stopped. The heavy spear fell from his hands. He backed a few steps, rubbing his eyes. Duranix inhaled deeply and blew again. Hatu’s face went white with fear. He broke and ran. So did Nebo and Ramay. Only Annom remained, kneeling in the dirt, tears of futility flowing down his cheeks.

  Duranix hauled Amero to his feet and pulled his bonds apart as though they were nothing. Then he grabbed Annom by his thick braid and pulled him to his feet.

  “I’m trying to understand human behavior,” Duranix said, “so I won’t kill you — this time. But this boy is under my protection, do you hear? If any harm comes to him, I’ll kill every human in the six valleys of the lake.
Nod your head if you understand me.” After an angry, frightened moment of stiffness, Annom nodded once. Duranix flung the big man aside.

  Annom stumbled away in the direction his brothers had fled.

  “You’re a great deal of trouble, Amero,” Duranix said, planting his hands on his hips. “Why did you leave the cave?”

  “I had no food,” he replied warily, “and I didn’t know what you planned to do to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I found bones in the cave.” Amero took a deep breath. “Some of them were human.”

  “Oh.” Duranix picked up Annom’s spear and examined the workmanship. “I did eat that man.”

  Amero’s heart skipped a beat. “He was the father of those four hunters. His name was Genta.”

  “Really? Strange. Even meals have names to you humans.”

  Trembling, Amero flung a hand out at Duranix. “Are you… are you a dragon?”

  “So you learned a new word! And what is a dragon?”

  “Some kind of monster that eats people!” Amero folded his hands into his armpits, hunching his body as though in pain. “Is that what you have planned for me?”

  Duranix pressed his hand to his chest. “I give you my word, Amero, I will not eat you,” he vowed solemnly. After a second’s hesitation, he added, “At least, not without considerable provocation.” He laughed, but Amero found no humor in his words.

  Serious once more, Duranix said, “Let me tell you a story, a story about a monster and a human hunter.

  “I was born far to the east on another mountain, but I’ve lived in this mountain range for over three hundred years, as you count them. For a long time I dwelled peacefully in this valley, sleeping in the open, confident no beast would dare disturb me. One day last fall — a magnificent day, too, the morning after the first frost — I woke to find a flint spear in my throat. It was a small wound, but no one had ever hurt me before — no one but another dragon, that is. Surprised, I lashed out and caught the one who was daring and stupid enough to attack me while I slumbered. It was this fur-wearing human. He was big for his race, with copper-colored hair and a beard to match. I was about to bite his head off when I was seized with curiosity. Why had he attacked me? I’d done nothing to him. I held him in one foreclaw and squeezed until he stopped struggling and cursing at me.