Chapter 8
He paused midstream and knelt. He cupped the clear, cold water and brought it to his lips, enjoying the sensation of the thirst-sating chill as it washed down his throat and into his belly. The day was hot and he sat on a boulder, feet dangling in the frigid pool. Beneath the rippling surface he watched the gentle tide dislodge the caked dirt from between his toes, carrying his filth away.
A silvery dartfish floated in to investigate the disturbance. He wiggled a toe and, true to its name, it disappeared like a loosed arrow. As he stared at the water, he regretted the move. It was a reminder of how alone he was. His last word to anyone was the argument with Joset. His only recent interactions were attacks on fellow arella that had done him no harm. True, they would have bound him and sent him to his fate, if allowed. Did that justify his actions? He saw no other possible outcome given the circumstances.
But because of those actions any sympathy that he might have received from other arella was lost. He was no longer one of them. He was despised and alone. Well, not completely alone. The water around his feet cleared and he saw that its shallow depths teemed with miniature life. He watched as a spotted snail began nibbling on a slender river tuber. A flap opened along the back of the plant and filled with the ebbing flow of the current, lifting it upwards toward the surface. It soared over the head of the snail, like a dove circling high above a leopard hunting on the plain.
The snail swiveled its head in a confused motion, perplexed by the disappearance of its snack. Eventually it gave up and moved along in its ponderous way to find a less mobile meal. The tuber rode the current, its tip occasionally popping above the rippling water and breaking into the gaseous expanses above. He reached out and stroked the exposed plant with a fingertip. Instantly, the small flap closed and the tuber fell flaccidly to the sandy stream bed.
'That is what I have to be,' he thought. 'I will ride the tides that confront me and confound my enemies. I will survive.'
Egots crept through the underbrush on all fours, careful not to disturb the brittle branches of the tharrow thicket. He arched his back and wiggled under a low hanging shoot. The warthog stopped and sniffed the air deliberately, but moved on seemingly unaware of his presence. He should be studying his lessons, but the pig's squeals had stolen his concentration. One lesson he understood very well, a sow's nose led to treasure. The frightening looking animals had an incredible sense of smell and could always be counted on to find the best berry patches, cool mushroom hollows or ripe nut trees.
The bristly hide of the huge animal ripped through a dense hedge near the edge of the creek, causing a startled thwiffer to take flight in a deluge of aviary protestations. Egots was just about to follow when a rustling upstream caused him to hesitate. A diminutive clone of the sow tumbled out of a nearby bush and scurried to find its mother. Egots smiled at its clumsy antics and waited several seconds longer before following. Hogs were dangerous if you came too close to their young.
When he was certain that he had allowed for ample space, he quietly followed into the gaping hole left by the snouted duo. It was dark inside the thick hedge and his eyes took a moment to adjust. The trail was impossible to miss, so he took his time, careful to avoid detection.
Several broken branches crisscrossed the path and it took Egots a few moments to maneuver silently through the tangle. As he twisted himself over the last bough, his hand slipped out from beneath him and he tumbled down a steep bank, feet flying over his head in a reckless pinwheel of limbs.
He landed on his back with painful abruptness and heard a panicked shrieking from directly behind him. He turned and saw the baby warthog frantically trying to scramble up the embankment that he had just fallen down. Its little hooves clawed ineffectually at the steep, muddy wall as it cried in a discordant and voluminous voice.
'Ssssh,' he whispered desperately, trying to calm the scared animal. 'I won't hurt you. Please be quiet.'
The little pig ignored him and bellowed louder and more piteously. Egots froze, not knowing what to do. He knew that he needed to run, but wasn't sure which way to head. He might flee straight into the mother if he chose the wrong path. A blood-curdling bellow caused his chest to tighten with fear. The sound didn't emanate from a specific direction. It seemed to be coming from all around him, and it was getting closer.
A bush exploded just twenty paces away and the mother warthog burst into the clearing. Egots saw the distended snout, angry tusks and open snarling mouth bearing down on him. Its thick, malicious hooves chewed up soil in an avalanche of fury and focused energy. He tried to make his muscles react, but he was frozen with terror. He felt the thunder of the massive beast's charge reverberate through the ground, but could not sense his own legs. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His lungs forgot to breath. They burned, but he couldn't make them draw in the air. He wanted to cry, wanted to run, but sat like a rock, dumbly waiting.
It leaped, gaping jaws open and gnashing, coming for him. Lightning crackled the air and the beast disappeared in mid leap, followed by a loud crash of wood and bone off to his left. He looked at the ruined, smoking corpse that somehow had been deflected nearly ten paces away and lay rocking as if it were trying to rise. It was ripped in half and emitting a sweet aroma. His eyes took in the sight, but didn't grasp the narrative. One moment, the terrible beast, full of rage and vengeance, charged and the next it was a broken ruin of charred flesh and torn sinew lying in the woods. It was impossible. Did the Kings protect him from the animal? He knew of stories that made those types of claims, but didn't really think that type of thing happened. Not really.
The baby pig edged up in a cautious crouch to sniff the smoldering chunk of meat that was its mother. Its anguished howl became a curious squeak. It jumped and ran into the forest as a noise from across the clearing caused it to start.
'Are you OK?' a deep voice asked.
Egots looked and saw a stranger approaching, carrying a small shimmering shaft.
'I think so, sir,' he said, trying to rise.
'Don't get up. That was a pretty close call there. You shouldn't go near those things when their babes are so little.'
'I know. I fell,' Egots answered, a bit peevish at being told something so obvious.
'What clan do you belong to?' the stranger asked.
'The Nobens,' Egots said.
His heart had slowed somewhat and he started to bring his swirling thoughts back under control. He looked at the stranger, studying him. He looked similar to members of his own clan, but somehow different. He couldn't quite understand how. He wasn't any larger and yet he seemed as if he were. His features were average, but somehow not. And his skin possessed a shimmering quality, like a tent pulled over a fire.
'How did you do that?' Egots asked.
'My little friend here,' the stranger answered, holding the thin, shiny object aloft.
'Are you one of the Yolenes?' the boy asked.
'What would make you think that?' the stranger asked, seeming surprised.
'The Yolenes have terrible tools. They can destroy mountains. Are you one?'
The stranger seemed to consider the question. He stared at Egots for an uncomfortable minute before responding.
'Where are your mother and father?' he asked.
Suddenly Egots felt scared all over again. How long had he been gone? He looked down at his muddy clothes and thought about the lesson that he was supposed to be working on. He looked up at the stranger and found him smiling.
'What is your name?' Egots asked.
'Call me Loki,' the stranger replied.
Loki waved his hand and the air around the boy began to swirl. Incredibly, bits of dirt and mud tore free in the air and circled him like leaves caught in a mountain zephyr. Egots watched as the grime released its hold on his clothing and skin and swam around him before dissipating into the surrounding trees. It took just seconds and he was completely clean. He sat staring at his extended arm, a perplexed look on
his young face.
'You run on home before you get in trouble,' Loki said.
Egots stood and mumbled his thanks. As he turned toward the woods, his rescuer said, 'I will keep your secret if you keep mine.'
Egots nodded and darted off toward his home.
He stood watching as the boy disappeared into the thick brush. When he was again alone, he dropped the mask of illusion. He threw down the broken stick he was holding and turned toward the still smoking carcass. He reached out toward the animal with his aura. The corpse began to vibrate gently, then more violently. A cloud formed as its body fragmented. Within seconds nothing but a pile of dark dust remained of the mother hog. With a wave of his hand, the breeze carried away even that reminder of the beast's existence.
It was a mistake to interfere, but his reactions had gotten the better of him. It couldn't be helped now. Even if the boy did retell the story, it would likely be dismissed as the product of an overactive imagination. However, leaving evidence around wouldn't be wise.
'He thought I was one of the Yolenes,' he muttered to himself.
It seemed that his former pupils continued to evolve. This might require some adjustments to his plans.
Tail of the Dragon Page 9
