At the moment it was a stalemate.
Boy Jaim tried to ignore the numbness creeping through his legs and concentrated on the shadows in the area of the hives. He could make out nothing worth the risk of an arrow.
What would the creature do next?
He tried to put himself in the Golden One’s place, but his growing discomfort made it difficult to think. He ground his teeth and forced himself to remain motionless while he watched and waited. Time dragged. There came an agonizing minute when he knew he had reached the end of his endurance. He must stand up and get some circulation back into his legs.
Slowly he rose. A few scattered frogs that had begun peeping again instantly fell silent. His eyes roved the meadow and the encircling trees. Had his own movement stopped the frogs, or had something else done it?
His legs throbbed and needles began shooting through his numbed feet. Where was the Golden One? Had the creature sighted him when he stood up, and was it even now creeping through the trees on one side or the other, trying to get behind him? A coldness went through him as he thought of the incredible stealth he faced. No shadow could be more soundless.
Without turning his head he swung his eyes to the right and strained to see as far as he could over his shoulder. At the same time, carefully, he sent his thoughts out, gently probing.
His eyes saw nothing that moved but the slowly drifting streamers of mist. Yet something was out there behind him. He could sense it.
How far it was from him he could only guess, but he knew instantly that he had only seconds to decide what to do.
His muscles tightened and his mind raced. If he turned to shoot too soon, the incredibly swift beast could easily evade the first arrow and be upon him before he loosed the second. But if he shot a moment too late, there wouldn’t be time to escape the sweep of one of those mighty paws, even though he killed the thing.
Very slowly he began shifting his feet. They felt like half-alive stumps. Again he sent his thoughts forth to probe—but now he was unable to sense anything near him. For an instant of shock and uncertainty he wondered if he’d made a mistake. Then it came to him that the Golden One had detected his mental search and was evading it. The monster must be creeping close …
In a flash Boy Jaim whirled and drew the arrow to his ear.
His pulse was racing like his mind. For the agonizing space of a dozen heartbeats he could make out nothing in the mist. There were just the trees, the pools of black shadow in the moonlight, and the long mist streamers that were drifting over the wall and across the meadow. The mist was much denser in one area, but something kept urging him to look away from it.
The sudden memory of poor Doubtful broke the spell. The tricky beast! Rage exploded within him.
“You dirty devil!” he screamed, loosing the first arrow. “Die! Die!”
He heard the arrow strike an invisible limb and knew that it must have glanced to one side of his target. But already he was fitting the second arrow to the string and swiftly drawing it to his ear.
As it left the bow, movement erupted from the mist, and he saw the second arrow graze one monstrous shoulder and fly harmlessly into the night. The great beast had leaped ahead of the shot.
Now it was charging him. Hardly thirty yards away, it bore down upon him with the swiftness of the wind.
Boy Jaim screamed his hate and shot his last arrow. He could not see where it struck, for time had run out for him. He whirled and tried to leap around the break in the wall to the other side. His leaden feet refused to respond. A stone tripped him, and he fell.
The creature was upon him now, but moving too fast to stop. It swerved toward him, spun, and a great paw that could have smashed him like a fly arced downward. But he was already spinning on his elbows, scrambling away, and trying to gain his feet and run. Then he was up and plunging forward along the outside of the wall.
The wall was his only hope. When he was sure the creature had left the gate and was racing behind him, he put all his power into a spring and flipped quickly over into the meadow.
Hardly had he run three paces in the wall’s shadow when he heard a great crash behind him. Stones flew in all directions. One grazed his head and sent him reeling to his knees. For a moment it seemed impossible to escape the thing that so wanted his life, but when he was able to look up he was astounded to see the monster charging straight into the meadow.
Halfway to the hives the beast stopped abruptly. The moonlight glinted on something stuck in its shoulder. Boy Jaim stared at it. It was his third arrow. He watched with a growing horror as the great golden creature reared upward, quivering in a frenzy from the poison that was now coursing through its body. All at once a terrible cry burst from it—a petrifying sound of agony and rage and despair—then suddenly it seemed to go out of its mind. It whirled about, snapping its teeth and snarling, and charged erratically through the hives, scattering them right and left. Finally it burst through the wall to the right of them and vanished in the woods on the other side.
Stunned, Boy Jaim remained where he had fallen, his unsteady hands clutching at the meadow grass. All the hate he’d felt so short a while ago had vanished. In its place had come a rising sickness, a revulsion for what he had done.
Then he became aware of L’Mara’s frantic questions beating through his mind.
“I’m all right,” he told her. “I—I shot the thing— but something awful has happened. The bear didn’t die. He—he’s gone mad.”
“Oh, dear! How—what—”
“It’s the poison. It didn’t affect him the way it’s supposed to. Instead of killing him, it’s burning him up inside, and he’s gone crazy with the pain.” He paused, and added grimly, “I—I’ve got to go after him and put him out of his misery.”
He was aware of her shock. “But,” she protested, “are you sure you have to? Andru says there’s enough poison on every point to kill dozens of creatures like him. And you know what it did to the goats! Isn’t he bound to die anyway? Boy Jaim, please! This could be another one of his tricks—”
“It’s no trick,” he replied. “He’s in the worst kind of agony—I can feel it in him. I’ve got to go after him.”
At this moment of horrid victory, the last thing he wanted to do was follow the monster and finish what he’d started. But it had to be done. Just how he was going to manage it he didn’t know. With another poisoned arrow? The thought made him shudder. He’d have to try it, of course, but if it didn’t work quickly he’d have to use some other means. His knife, perhaps, or some sort of a spear …
Where was his bow?
He found it under some of the rocks that had been knocked over when the Golden One crashed through the wall. The only damage was a broken string.
He raced back to the sled, restrung the bow with a spare string from the case, then rose and flew over the treetops in the direction the wounded beast had taken.
To follow it was unpleasantly easy. Unless he closed his mind to it, the Golden One’s agony was like a red and violently burning beacon. It led him across the river, over the chain of hills on the other side, and straight into the great forest. As the slow minutes passed he found himself praying that the creature would die before he caught up with it. It was moving at a furious pace, so it was bound to collapse soon.
Then, like a clap of thunder in his mind, it came to him that this might be his chance—his one possible chance—to find out about the calamity that was soon to happen. The great bear knew. There could be no doubt about that. Perhaps, before it died, the madness would leave and it would tell what he wanted to know. Or, if it refused, perhaps he could make it tell.
This last thought seemed almost inhuman to him, but Boy Jaim hardened himself to it. If it had to be, it just had to be. With so many lives at stake, you couldn’t quibble over how you saved them …
Now, instead of wishing for the creature to die quickly, he began praying that it would live until he caught up with it. Worriedly he tried to coax more speed from the ba
lky sled. Nothing he did to it helped in the least. It had been in storage too long and had had too little time for recharging. Gradually it was beginning to slow down.
On the other hand the pain-racked beast ahead seemed tireless. If anything, the violence of the poison was driving it at an ever-faster pace. He wouldn’t have believed that the monster, in spite of its size and strength, could actually move faster than the sled. But it was.
Still, it couldn’t keep this up for long. The poison was a temporary stimulant, goading it past endurance. Presently it would be forced to drop from sheer exhaustion. But would the sled’s power hold out that long?
Suddenly Boy Jaim wished he’d gone back and exchanged sleds before he had tried to follow the beast. It was too late for that now, and he was much too far away. Of course, L’Mara could bring him a better sled, but that wouldn’t be so wise. L’Mara was his only link with home. If he learned anything important, it would have to be sent through her.
The Golden One, as nearly as he could judge, was almost a mile ahead of him now. For a long while he concentrated on it, expecting it to collapse at any minute. The beast did not even pause. Nor did there seem to be much change in its pace. It was slowing a little—though not enough to make much difference in the mile that separated them.
Suddenly a startling thought came to him. What if the great bear recovered?
But this was a possibility Boy Jaim was not ready to face, and instantly he put it aside. If the bear was slowing, so was the sled, and there was the worrisome likelihood that the sled would run out of power in the next few minutes, and he would have to come down. It had already flown far longer than he’d dared hope it would.
Where was the creature heading? Toward the Barrens? It seemed that way—but why in the world would it go there?
To make sure of his direction, he glanced up at the stars to get his bearings.
The first thing he saw was the moon, and the sight of it frightened him. It was past the zenith and moving westward down the sky at a sharp angle from the bear’s course. It told him that the Golden One was indeed heading for the Barrens—but the fact did not register immediately. All that registered was the moon’s color. It was red. Not reddish, as it had been earlier, but a terrible, unearthly, burning red.
He had been so intent upon following the bear that he did not know whether the color change had come gradually, or had happened in the last few minutes. Even the sky seemed curiously light, as if dawn were not far away—but he was given no time to speculate on the meaning of this, for suddenly the balky sled began to slip downward.
During the next few seconds he had his hands full trying to avoid the treetops rising to meet him. He had already passed over a small hillock, almost barren of growth on top. It was the only open spot in sight, and somehow he managed to spiral back to it and make a landing, without too great a jolt, upon the weathered rocks.
He knew he was lucky to have made it, but he did not feel that way. The hillock would catch the first light of the morning sun, and the sled would gather power enough to fly within an hour. What would happen to the bear in the meantime?
The maddened creature was still rushing through the forest, though it was becoming difficult to sense it in the distance. Would it be alive in the morning—and would he be able to locate it then?
Despairingly he realized he might as well get what rest he could, for there was nothing more he could do now.
As he stretched out on the sled, L’Mara called suddenly.
“Boy Jaim! Have you seen the moon?”
“Of course I’ve seen it! How could I miss it?”
“But—but what’s happening? It looks awful!”
“I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s probably just volcanic gas or dust high up in the atmosphere.” He said it only because she was frightened, and it was the first reason that came to his mind. “Have you called Emmon about it?”
“I’ve tried to, but he doesn’t answer. It’s all so scary.”
“Stop worrying about it and get some sleep.”
“My goodness, how can anyone sleep with things the way they are? Where are you now?”
She wanted to come after him, but he ordered her to stay where she was. “I’m more than halfway to the Barrens,” he said. “It would be after daylight before you could fly here and find me. You’ve got to remain near a phone in case I learn something.”
“But how can you ever—”
“I don’t know how, but I’ll manage it somehow. Just pray that bear’s alive when I catch up with him …”
“But—but I thought you wanted him dead!”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
The long hunt was over. The cunning beast had escaped the canyon’s trap, and the beaten hunters had returned.
“It’s strange,” the youngest herder said that evening. “I wanted to see that thing killed. But now, well—”
“You feel better knowing it escaped?” the oldest herder asked quietly.
“I—I guess so. I know it’s dangerous, and that it hates us, but somehow I can’t blame it anymore. If other creatures had treated us the way we’ve treated them—”
The youngest herder stopped and stared into the east where his star was rising. “Look!” he exclaimed. “Something must be wrong. Its color has changed!”
10
THE BARRENS
During the brief period that he managed to sleep, Boy Jaim dreamed of the days behind him. It began as a happy dream, full of birdsong, of the time when he and Doubtful roamed the forest together and all creatures were his friends. Then abruptly the dream changed. Terror came, and the world turned red with a great burning …
He sat up suddenly, wide awake on the instant. It was morning, but no song of birds greeted him. Over the silent forest the sun had risen—a red sun, monstrous and flaming, in a sky like brass.
He gaped at it in awe. Was the world coming to an end? But when L’Mara called a moment later he managed to hide his fears and pretend there was little to worry about.
“It’s just gas or something in the upper air,” he assured her. “Have you been able to talk to Emmon about it?”
“Yes,” she replied. “He said what you did earlier—that volcanoes are causing it. He thinks they must be spouting up from the sea somewhere. Everybody’s afraid. But Emmon said if the volcanoes are far enough away, we may not have too much to worry about, even though there are bound to be earthquakes. What—what do you think, Boy Jaim?”
He hesitated. Emmon, of course, was doing his best to keep people calm until there was more information. It came to him with a jolt that what was happening now was hardly a beginning and might have no connection whatever with the great terror that was coming. He could not even guess the nature of it, but he knew it was approaching fast. It was only hours away. Hours …
Suddenly he said, “Tell Emmon to take some of his bees inside and put them deep in the safest part of his hill. And he’d better do the same with some of the goats.”
“But—but why?”
“I—I don’t know. It’s just an idea. Suppose something poisonous in the air killed off all the bees and goats—and don’t think it can’t happen. Do you realize there’d never again be any honey and milk?”
“Oh, how awful! But all the Elders are advising us to move out of the houses until this is over. Earthquakes—”
“There may be earthquakes—I don’t know yet. Just tell Emmon what I said. Now I’ve got to hurry and find that bear. There isn’t much time …”
How many hours did they have? Four? Five? All he had to go on was a sudden feeling of urgency, as if a string were being slowly tightened in his mind. In rising uneasiness he sent his thoughts probing through the forest. They touched upon nothing living.
Was the Golden One dead? His jaws knotted and he shook his head, refusing to consider the possibility. The great bear had to be alive. Probably it had reached the Barrens and was out of range of his probing.
The sled was afloat again
in the morning sun. Impatiently he sent it skimming over the forest, in the same direction he had flown during the night. In the unnatural heat a growing thirst began to trouble him. For a long while he managed to ignore it, but finally it became a torment.
The unpleasant white gleam of the Barrens in the distance reminded him of the scarcity of water ahead, and of the foolishness of going on without it. He changed course and presently slid down beside one of the small streams that flowed into the river.
To save time he gulped a few quick swallows from the stream, then hurriedly searched through the sled’s locker for an old plastic bucket, which he cleaned out and filled. In less than a minute he was on his way with the bucket between his knees.
Now the burning heat seemed worse, and he thought longingly of the covered sled he should have taken last night. He sipped from the bucket, splashed a little water on his face, then grimly tried to concentrate on locating the bear.
Ahead the white gleam broadened. It spread to the horizon as the forest below him began to thin and diminish. Still his probing thoughts touched nothing that seemed alive.
He slowed, then let the sled drift, while he carefully went over the area ahead with eye and mind. In the stillness the sun’s blistering touch was almost unbearable. Its brassy glare upon the Barrens seemed to intensify the awfulness of the place.
It was a vast stretch of utter desolation, a desert of scorched sand and worn gray rubble unrelieved by a single tree. Even after all the rain the only green to be seen was in an occasional scabrous patch of cactus. Here and there in the pitted rubble—there were depressions and pits everywhere—rose curious shapes of eroded stone. The shapes might once have been buildings, though it seemed impossible that man had ever lived here—and that man alone could have been responsible for such a nightmare world.
Boy Jaim’s attention kept returning to a sunken area in the distance. It twisted like a deep scar across the rubble. As with many of the other depressions, it could have been caused by a cave-in. He flew to it and began drifting along one edge. Suddenly he became sharply attentive as he sensed feeling of some kind below him.
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