Serpents of the Abyss (The Darvel Exploratory Systems #2)

by S. J. Sanders

  He flew only a short distance before he heard the clattering sound of a male going on offensive, warning Slengral away from the mouth of his tunnel. The sound, made through the vibrating of the lower jawbone against the throat as the male vocalized, was one of their most easily discerned calls. The male had something valuable instead he was protecting—likely a fresh kill dragged into his tunnel, but a female was also a possibility.

  Although Slengral wasn’t concerned over the warning, he veered away out of courtesy. If the male had a kill large enough to return with, or a female occupying his nest, he wouldn’t be going to the surface any time soon. All the same, he barked at the male as he passed, establishing his dominance as he surged higher up the shaft.

  Whereas he hadn’t noticed much in the way of damage in his own territory, the higher he climbed toward Aglatha’s mouth, the more noticeable it became. Entire tunnels were collapsed, and in several places long flat slabs of the shaft wall had broken free and become lodged horizontally. They were not a significant enough of an obstacle to impede his ascent but noteworthy. It would take several males working together to carefully break them free and deposit them in lower caverns where they could be broken down or reshaped into suitable building material for the shinara.

  It was after passing several such obstructions that he heard the familiar barks of males he knew. Flapping his wings harder, he ascended at a quicker pace, the gloom lightening the closer he got to the surface. Letting out several barks of his own to supplement his vision, he noted the presence of four males skimming over and around the rocks. The nearest male angled his head down toward him, barking in return as he dropped between two large stones lying side by side.

  Lifting up at the last minute, the male leveled out beside him and kept an easy pace as they rose together through the shaft. He was not surprised to see that Kehtal was one of the males working on the blockages. Although Kehtal was equal to Slengral in many respects, the male’s slimmer, compact build had advantages over his broader musculature when it came to speed and dexterity. These qualities were especially necessary with such work. Although it took considerable strength to removing the stones, that was only a small part of the delicate task. The ease with which the male darted ahead and slid between the two parallel wedges was the perfect example of why he was so valuable.

  The fallen stones came close to dissuading Slengral from attempting passage. He could not expand his wings to their limit and slide through with his greater bulk as Kehtal could. He again debated turning back, but the narrow gap was not so difficult to make it impassable, nor did he want to disappoint his female if it could be avoided.

  Hissing, he ignored the fiery orange eyes watching humorously as Slengral slid his velkat into its harness and slowed enough to catch his claws along the edge of one slab. Angling himself carefully, he flattened his wings and pulled his body through. His scales on his torso rubbed on the rough edges, the velkat’s presence causing even more uncomfortable pressure, but he ignored the sensation as he worked himself free. The minute his wings cleared the rocks completely, he flapped them quickly so that the rest of his length shot through.

  As Slengral withdrew the long double edged velkat from its sheath on his back, Kehtal’s wings snapped, and the male rose quickly from where he hovered just above the rock to his side.

  “I was certain that you would turn back and hunker in your tunnel until this mess was cleared,” the male called out, his voice light. “I am sure Daskh would have done the same if they were not right outside of his tunnel.”

  The male in question uncoiled from his perch and glared over at the smaller Seshanamitesh, his luminous pale green eyes the only thing visible in the shadows of the tunnel entrance.

  “Are you mocking me, kapan?” he growled, his deep growl rolling into the shaft.

  Kehtal hissed at the insult, his gavo rising along his spine but Slengral knew that nothing would come of it. This was a typical dance for the males whose nests were close along the main shaft. It was actually impressive that Daskh had not driven the smaller male out like many other males would. It would not even require much effort on his part. Daskh was enormous, even for one of their males, and possessed an unpleasant attitude that warded his territory better than any spoor. Only a fool would breach Daskh’s nest, much less challenge him.

  Which meant that the big Seshanamitesh got enjoyment out of needling the other male, especially about his smaller build. Kapan literally meant smallest born of the litter, and it was the one insult that Kehtal took offense to, even if that offense was clearly exaggerated. It was a strange sort of friendship that the males had fallen into among a species where, unlike females, males rarely befriended each other beyond casual associations.

  When Kehtal failed to advance, Daskh laughed and slid further out of his tunnel. He was unable to get completely out due to the angle of the slabs blocking his tunnel, but his eyes glittered with amusement.

  “I did not think so.” He huffed an annoyed sigh and glanced over at Slengral. “The kapan has a point, though. It is not like you to force yourself through rocks if the passage is not clear. I have little choice myself but to wait here to the end of eternity. Waiting to crush rocks until he finally gives me his instruction.”

  “I have told you before that it is delicate work. The strikes have to be precise,” Kehtal snapped.

  Daskh casually unfurled his gavo and let it snap shut again as his jaws opened in a massive yawn. His speculative gaze, however, never left Slengral. As big as the male was, though he did not possess the physical speed of most hunters, he was not slow in either body or mind.

  “Well?” he rumbled. “Was your last hunt so poor that you cannot spend a night relaxing in your nest… and be glad you do not have to deal with this mess?”

  Slengral grunted impatiently. “No, it was not poor, but yes, I must hunt. As to why is my concern alone.” He spread his wings wider to depart, uninterested in being questioned—especially when the males regarded him with eyes growing even brighter with curiosity—but wanted to curse. Although they were occupied and unlikely to go to the surface, he had to ask. If nothing else, the males dwelled in a section of the shaft where they could spread his warning further among their people.

  Settling to flap his wings at a sedate pace to keep him flying in place, he narrowed his eyes. “Have either of you eaten the two-legged creatures above?”

  Kehtal cocked his head. “The ones that arrived on Seshana from the sky?”

  He snapped the gavo crests on his head in the affirmative, battling his impatience to continue on and see if the entrance was clear or not.

  Kehtal exchanged a look with Daskh, the other male’s expression hardening in response, before meeting Slengral’s eyes curiously.

  “I have not, although I have heard of other males saying their meat is the sweetest. More than one has dragged their hunt through the tunnels. Sometimes it is alive and screaming.” Kehtal shivered, his body jerking subtly in the air in response to the movement of his scales. “It is unpleasant. Not like any animal on Seshana. I do not like it, so I cannot stomach the thought of eating them. I stay far away from the territory erected for them and hunt what I know.”

  “I as well,” Daskh grumbled. He peered at Slengral. “I would not recommend it. I like the smell of some of them,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Some of the males have become like beasts in their indiscriminate hunting. The shinara is unwise to allow them to continue.”

  “If they are even aware of it,” Kehtal replied in a low voice. “The females rarely surface anymore from the shinara, relying only on the talk of males who arrive at their gates with offerings. Even that depends on if a female has an interest in a male and feels like conversing.” His eyes settled on Slengral once more. “Are you hoping to go and see if one is open to conversing as she takes your seed?”

  Slengral recoiled. He had many offers from the females, but other than one occasion in his youth that had proved to be a disappointing experience which th
ankfully did not produce any young, he had no interest in submitting to the cold exchange. He wanted a mate, and now that he finally had her, he would accept nothing less. Not even to save the humans above.

  It would have to wait until his mate was able to meet with the females of the shinara and make her case to them personally. But he could not tell these males that. He would not let on that he had a female—not yet, not when she was still unbound.

  He jerked his chin down. “No. I just ask that you warn other males not to eat them. They are people and responsible for the calamities we have been experiencing, and so have to be dealt with by the shinara, but they are not prey to hunt.”

  Daskh’s brow dropped. “How do you know this, Slengral?”

  “I spoke to one and discovered the truth,” he replied, sticking to the vaguest answer even if it was more of a half-truth.

  Kehtal’s eyes widened. “Then you must go to the shinara and tell…”

  Hand tightening on his velkat, Slengral snapped his wings, whipping in the air toward the male in an unspoken threat that had Daskh stiffening.

  “I said no,” he snarled.

  Kehtal jerked away, rousing a momentary sense of guilt. Slengral had never pressed dominance over either of the males before, especially not Kehtal, who never offered violence toward anyone.

  He sighed. “My apologies, Kehtal. I must go hunt now. Spread the word regarding the humans until I can find a solution that does not involve me laying in anyone’s coils.”

  Kehtal flicked his gavo silently, and Daskh echoed the gesture, both pairs of eyes watching him as Slengral shot up the shaft.

  As expected, the mouth of Aglatha was a ruin. Crushed metal lay to waste everywhere. The mouth itself was completely blocked with rubble. He was barely able to slide between the fallen rocks to access an upper tunnel leading from a narrow rear exit. Not so narrow that he couldn’t clear it comfortably, but it told him just how much devastation had been wrought, even more than the many collapsed tunnels twisted with long bent metal frames.

  Darting out into the cool night air, Slengral inhaled deep and exhaled, forcing the dust from his lungs as he looked around. There was fallen and broken metal everywhere. Some of it had even fallen across the strange metal path that ran into the distance. He was certain that this went directly to the dome of the humans that his mate spoke of, but he regarded it with little interest.

  It would be many waking cycles before the way was clear to bring his mate up, so the humans would be a concern for another night.

  Gliding over the sands, Slengral keen eyes took in every movement under the light of the moons. He enjoyed the hunt as the soft musk of the jalhana blooms that grew low in the sands and bloomed only at night to feed the ground-nesting barlisks. The buzz of a small swarm met his ears. Normally, he would be tempted to follow them with interest in finding the nest to liberate some of their nectar, but he dismissed them in favor of something more filling for his mate.

  The moon glinted off sleek fur on a burrowing dantha. Its four ears moved in several directions at once as it crept forward.

  Slengral dropped, his tail coiling around its hind quarters as he stabbed one end of his velkat through the dantha’s neck, delivering a quick death. He knew of some males who liked to hunt in the old ways, using their coils to suffocate and break the bones of the prey and their claws to rend it as they fed. Slengral considered those methods to be cruel and unnecessary unless one had no choice. The clean kill was so much better.

  Making quick work of cleaning his prey, he searched for another and then a third. Only when he was confident that he had plenty to feed them did he drop back into the Aglatha. He was glad that neither Kehtal nor Daskh offered any conversation nor attempted to waylay him as he passed. He was eager to return to his Lori and feed her well.

  Chapter 13

  Kehtal frowned, watching Slengral as the male disappeared back down the shaft with his hunt. Three danthas was more than one male could eat alone. Was he taking an offering down to the shinara? It was strange that he would do so when clearing the shaft and main tunnels should have been everyone’s primary concern. The females, while enjoying the game hunted from above, did not lack for food in their shinara. They did not depend on the game like unmated hunters did. In their current situation, a male surfacing to make a kill would have been expected, but this was unusual. Especially from him.

  For as long as Kehtal had known him, Slengral often went a moon cycle or two without bringing a gift. Not long enough to rouse the attention of the shinara while making his disinterest clear to everyone else. When he did make an appearance with game, it was rarely an offering as fine as a fat dantha, nor was it ever presented to a female in hope of being selected for her clutch. No, when Slengral appeared it often seemed more as an after thought in which he deposited his kill with others and returned. Kehtal always thought that the male disliked the expectation of offerings on principle. He certainly would not make the effort to hunt when the cave was a mess.

  Stretching his wings thoughtfully from where he rested on his perch, he drew in a breath and flew up the short distance to Daskh’s tunnel. They had broken away large segments of the blockage, enough to where he could get up to Daskh a bit easier. Although he did not have significant problems flying through before, the extra space to maneuver comfortably made doing so less of a chore.

  As usual, his friend—as much as he could consider the grumpy male a friend, which was probably rather sad in retrospect—was resting on his coils at the entrance of his tunnel. Daskh was a strange case in this as well. He was often seen at the front of his tunnel, watching the comings and goings of Seshanamitesh rather than in his nest. At times, Kehtal wondered if the male’s nest was so miserable that he preferred the tunnel to it.

  It would have been a ridiculous line of thought, and had been proved so when, in a rare mood of charitableness, Daskh had gifted him with a finely made cushion for his own nest when Kehtal had struggled with making something suitable. Daskh was uniquely skilled at making the softest leathers and was talented at weaving the thick fur of the large gashthans who dwelled in the cooler climates of the mountains.

  Every rainy season when the gashthans descended from the mountains to eat the tender plants that sprung up all over the sands, Daskh eagerly hunted them, his larger size little obstacle against the slower, but formidable, beasts. It was not until after receiving the gift that Kehtal realized that Daskh did more than just eat the creatures and use their pelts for crude bedding. Daskh’s abrasive personality and brute exterior belied the talents he truly possessed. In truth, Kehtal doubted if anyone except for himself even knew.

  That insight made their friendship even closer. Daskh, while intensely private, would often show him his newest project when Kehtal asked. It was done with much grumbling, but Kehtal knew of no other male he granted such privilege to. Perhaps it was for this reason that he felt so free to speak to Daskh, even if the male was a terrible conversationalist.

  At Kehtal’s approach, one of Daskh’s green eyes opened to peer at him. For however he appeared, coiled comfortably on his ledge, he noticed everything around him.

  “Were you not just here?” he grumbled.

  Kehtal ignored the question. “Did you notice that Slengral is behaving strangely?”

  Daskh’s ear ridges flicked, and his wings shrugged up off his back. “Many males start acting strangely when the females near their breeding season,” he observed in a flat, unconcerned voice.

  Kehtal whipped his tail dismissively, the tip slashing through the air as if to kill such an idea. “Not Slengral. The females come into their breeding season every two moon cycles. I think I would have noticed him acting like this before.” He drew up higher next to the other male, his wings leisurely flapping to keep in place as he stared down into the shaft thoughtfully. “Slengral never takes more food than he absolutely requires for himself. He just made a good kill that should have satisfied him for a few waking cycles, and I know that he recently visi
ted the fruit caves. Now he returns with three danthas. It is strange.”

  “Maybe he has changed his mind about attracting a female,” Daskh mused, a deep humorless chuckle rumbling out from him. “There is more than one in the shinara who would be eager to draw him into her clutch. If he starts now before the breeding season, he will likely be selected.”

  Kehtal gave the male a doubtful look. “Maybe I should…”

  Daskh sighed, his tail uncoiling lazily as he stretched. “Do not follow him, Kehtal. Leave him be.”

  Now it was Kehtal who sighed as he reluctantly dropped back down to his own ledge. He hated not knowing.

  Daskh eyed Kehtal with amusement as the smaller male dropped down to his own tunnel. The male meant well, but he was perhaps the most curious adult Seshanamitesh Daskh had ever spent time around. The male was also, fortunately, a skilled and ruthless fighter, which saved his tail when his curiosity led him into situations better off left alone.

  He did not understand what drove his friend, not that he did not find Slengral’s unexpected activity surprising. Quite the contrary. With all the time he spent on his ledge, observing the males of the tunnel and watching for any potential danger—first from predators and now also from the aliens above—he found anything out of the normal attention-worthy, but he only interfered if there was a potential threat involved. A male’s courting behavior hardly fit, though Kehtal’s observations were not incorrect. Slengral had not shown any interest in breeding with the females of the shinara in all the time he had known them. In fact, the male had been very strong in his opinion that the whole transaction was degrading. He wanted a mate, not just a temporary clutch.

  Daskh could not pretend that he understood. All males wanted a mate, but every other male he knew of wanted to be selected for breeding. A male of Slengral’s size, health and coloring would have no trouble attracting many females, which made his decisions all the more difficult to understand. Even Daskh secretly desired it, despite the fact that he had long given up on such notions. Though he thought Slengral’s choices odd, he respected them, and respected the male’s privacy when it came to such matters.