The sound was so subtle as to be almost inaudible, but she heard. Coming to a sudden stop, she raised her head and looked back the way she’d come. It might be nothing more than a bird, she told herself. It hadn’t sounded like anything more than a bird.
Except that it would have to have been a ground-dwelling bird.
What an awful place the Rainy Basin was, she told herself. If she made it out successfully, she vowed, she would never return. As she recited this resolution, a second sound echoed the first. Her head jerked around to the right. A third soft thump sent her neck swinging in the opposite direction.
They were trying to box her in. Each muffled footstep marked the presence of another stalker. As yet she didn’t know who they were, save that they intended no good. Potential
friends didn’t sneak up and surround you, and there was little friendly about the inhabitants of the Rainy Basin.
Strain as she might, she could see nothing. No giant carnosaur loomed against the treetops. There was only the occasional muted echo of a footstep.
But something was stalking her.
Had the strange humans been more determined than she’d thought and pursued her through the night? Were they that crazy? The footsteps could be those of humans. The young humans she played with in happier times were very adept at hide-and-seek.
Backing slowly, unsure which way to run, she felt that if she bolted she’d have only one chance to make the right choice. Her eyes detected movement in the brush, and then she saw it: a stealthy, athletic shape slightly smaller than herself. A flash of fang and a surfeit of talon and claw.
Velociraptors. A pack of them.
There would be more than three, she knew. From her studies she remembered that minimum pack size was comprised of six or mor£. The little brutes weren’t very big, but in spite of the bounty afforded by the Rainy Basin, they hadn’t forgotten how to hunt, and they were all tooth and claw.
If she jumped wrong, it would carry her right into the midst of them. She’d go down beneath their jaws and the terrible sickle-shaped claws on their hind feet. They’d make short work of what, for them, would be a substantial meal.
Well, I’m nobody’s meal, she thought stubbornly. Not today. Not ever. Certainly not for a family of uncivilized, undersized carnivores, and not with her family in danger.
From their movements and the sound of their pacing, she knew they were working to enclose her. Probably she had little time left in which to act before they closed the circle. She looked around wildly. In a few moments it wouldn’t matter which way she leaped. Velociraptors could run as fast as any struthie, and this time the dense rain forest wouldn’t be of any help in losing her pursuers. The little carnivores were as agile as she was, could jump any obstacle or run beneath any intervening log.
For a mad moment she considered dashing to her right, directly toward the nearest cliff. But with their powerful claws and talons, raptors could climb even better than she could. Out in the open there would be no cover at all.
Could she beat them to a high place and kick rocks down on them? They were notoriously hard to discourage, and there was the danger of slipping. Even a dumb Velociraptor was smart enough to see such danger and avoid it.
It was no use. They had her already. They were just unwinding the string of fate to its end, playing out the game to its inevitable conclusion.
She was determined not to give up without a fight. There was a suggestion of a faint hunting trail off to her right. As yet she’d heard nothing from that direction. Clearing a mound of agitated ants in a single bound, she tore off down the narrow gap, her legs pumping like pistons, not even bothering to dodge the vines or thorns that reached out to snatch at her. Damp air whistled past her head. She felt as if she were flying.
In seconds the footsteps she’d been hearing coalesced behind her. The chase had begun. Though it could have only one outcome, she ran on, buoyed by the knowledge that she had at least escaped their initial trap. Now they would have to work for their supper. They would have to drag her down, and she’d give them a run for their efforts!
She was under no illusions as to what would happen if even one caught up with her. Though larger, no Struthio-mimus could fight a Velociraptor. She was no invincible sauropod, safe within the mountain of itself; no armored ankylosaur or spear-and-shield carrying ceratopsian. The ornithomimosaurs, of which the struthies were one tribe, had only their intelligence to rely upon.
Nothing would discourage a pack of raptors on the hunt, she knew. No doubt they were relishing the chase. It would add spice to the eventual meal. Such thoughts enabled her, somehow, to increase her pace, lengthen her stride. She’d never run so fast in all her life, not even when fleeing the strange humans.
It didn’t matter. The spine-chilling, high-pitched whistling was close behind, on all sides.
A lake, she thought frantically, or a swift-moving river might be her only chance. In the water they would be equals,
and desperation would lend strength to her efforts. As she processed this frantic thought, a strange scent crossed her nostrils. It was thick and pungent and reeked of the familiar.
Feeling she had nothing to lose, she made a reckless turn in its direction, wondering as she did if the frenzy of the chase had already driven her mad. For surely what she had in mind was insane. But if death was assured, she told herself, lungs heaving and threatening to burst, then what mattered the source? If she was correct in her assumptions, at least this way would be quick.
Directly ahead a small, open glade appeared in the woods. A curving gray mound lay athwart the path she was taking, a high, smooth-sided boulder settled in the midst of lush greenery. On the far side, pristine rain forest flared skyward.
She slowed her pace slightly as she approached. The distinctive odor was very strong now. Behind her, the whistling of the Velociraptors increased in intensity. Would they detect the same aroma and retreat? Or would they embark on a final sprint, expecting to overtake her? This close to a kill, she knew it would*be hard for them to turn away.
Looking back for the first time, she could see several of them, running hard in her wake, tongues hanging from the sides of their mouths. They were closing rapidly, and she could sense others following just behind. Teeth and talons caught the intermittent early sunlight like mirrors. Their eyes were terrible, and they were fixed unblinkingly on her.
Good, she thought. Let them stay fixated.
Too committed to tremble and having already consigned her life to the earth, she put one foot on a low portion of the mound and pushed off. As the leap carried her up and over the crest of the gray bulk, a whistle deeper than that of any Velociraptor split the air, followed by a querulous, infuriated growl.
The lead raptor prepared to duplicate her leap and follow her over the mound. As it placed its foot, the front part of the mound whipped around. Massive jaws snapped, there was a brief, startled squeal, and the raptor imploded in a crunch of bones.
The pack dug in their heels and alternately slid, skidded, and stumbled to a dead stop. Several of those in back didn’t react in time and plowed into those in front, further adding to the confusion and alarm. Panicked whistles and screeches filled the glade.
A roar loud enough to rattle the bugs in the trees drowned out the panicky cries of the raptors as the mound, furious at having its sleep disturbed and its space invaded, rose up on two pillarlike legs and began laying waste to the frantic pack.
Keelk saw none of it. Keeping her attention on the path ahead, she ran on. Though her legs complained mightily, she did not slow down until the last echo of the chaotic confrontation had faded to silence behind her.
Her escape had carried her deeper into the Rainy Basin and away from the cliffs, but for the moment, at least, she was safe. The mound she had vaulted had been composed not of granite but of flesh. It was, in fact, the prowling allosaur that had come so close to her that very morning. She’d recognized its scent right away. The great meat-eater had been dozing. Crossing
its scent trail, she had cast aside everything she’d ever been told about the huge carnivores and, instead of altering her path to avoid its lair, had turned directly toward it.
She’d run right over it, something she still couldn’t quite believe she’d done. The feel of its flesh and ribs was sharp in her memory. Contact had awakened it, but only after she’d cleared its flank. The first thing it had seen when it had opened its eyes was the unlucky lead raptor. Irate as well as hungry, the allosaur had reacted instinctively. The raptors hadn’t even had a chance to apologize.
She tried not to picture the consequences. A pack of Veloci-raptors would back down from nothing, not even an allosaur. Regardless of the battle’s outcome, the survivors wouldn’t be in any shape to resume searching for her trail.
Of one thing she was certain: when she next ran the Junior Olympics at Sauropolis, she would not be intimidated by the hurdles.
As she slowed to a more relaxed pace, the cramps in her legs went away. Struthiomimuses, after all, were designed to run. But they were not designed to do so on empty stomachs. She found she was hungry again, and the day had just begun.
Arimat was a stronger runner, but his bounds had not come loose. Circumstances had chosen her to flee, and she would have to make the best of it. Her entire family was depending on her. Who knew what the crazed humans intended? Such thoughts kept her going.
I wish I were older, she thought. More knowledgeable, more experienced. But she’d been taught that knowledge was experience. She smiled. If that was the case, then she’d become very much more knowledgeable in the past day.
She was still alive.
The frenzied run had disoriented her. In the dense forest there were no landmarks and it was difficult to tell direction. Slowing, she paused for a drink and considered her position. The Backbones lay to the north of the Rainy Basin. That much was easy. But which way was north? Buried beneath clouds and mist, it was difficult to determine the true position of the sun.
If she guessed wrong she’d only plunge deeper into the basin, where she would eventually have a final encounter with one of its permanent inhabitants. There was no need to dwell on the inevitable outcome of such a meeting. She tried to recall the route she’d taken during her desperate flight, the twistings and turnings she’d made while fleeing the voracious pack.
Straight ahead? Or should she angle to her left? Tilting back her head, she studied the amorphous sky, trying to recall everything she’d been taught about off-road hiking.
To her left, then. Sucking in several short, deep breaths, she started off, hoping before long to see naked rock through the trees and bushes. Even if the cliffs proved unclimbable, it would show she was back on the right track.
Birds followed her progress, commenting boisterously in their comforting singsong. She was glad of their presence. It signified that no predators were actively stalking in her immediate vicinity. Nevertheless, she remained fully alert. Having escaped raptors, an allosaur, and soulless fireworks all in not much more than a day, she wasn’t about to fail now for lack of awareness.
Though the rain forest enveloped her in its dark green embrace, she found it anything but comforting.
VIII
in his life preister smiggens had been awakened by a great variety of sounds: the thunder of cannon, the cry of a lookout, the crow of a cock. Even once, while hiding out from the police near Sydney, the soft grunting of wombats.
But never had he been roused from his slumber by anything like the sound that now sent him scrambling to his feet.
They were all a little on edge. He could see it in the faces of his fellow seamen as they rose from their makeshift berths. Some staggered clumsily erect while others seemed to come awake instantly like himself. Watching them react, it was easy to tell who had been longest at sea, longest on the shadowy side of the law. These were the men who were already up and alert, pistol or sword in hand.
The unearthly, droning wail drifted over the forest a second time. Its eerie sonority seemed to bypass the outer ear and go straight to a man’s bones. Smiggens put one hand to the side of his temple and shook his head. What unimaginable creature was capable of producing a sound like that?
Blackstrap was adjusting his bandanna around his bald skull. Watching him, Smiggens could only admire. The captain was too hardened to be awed by anything. Had Lucifer himself materialized in their midst, Blackstrap would have planted himself right in the devil’s face. Whether swords, curses, or a game of dice, the captain would not have backed away from a challenge.
Of course, Blackstrap would also bet first with the souls of his crew, the first mate knew. The captain was bold to the point of foolhardiness, but he wasn’t stupid.
Again the forest echoed to the reverberant drone. Searching the treetops and the nearby cliff face, the crew saw nothing.
Treggang clutched his kris tightly. “Lord Buddha gave voice to many creatures, but I no can imagine what this one must be like!”
“Aye.” Copperhead put his back against the Malay’s as they confronted the forest together. “I’ve never heard the like.”
“I have.”
They turned to one of their number who normally spoke very little. Having fled from angry members of his own tribe as well as from the white authorities in the Oregon Territory, Chumash had ended up in Hong Kong, where his temperament and instincts had led him to join the crew of the Condor. Holding his rifle loosely in both hands, he studied the treetops with practiced solemnity.
“You?” Blackstrap’s gaze narrowed. “Where?”
“In the mountains of my homeland. It is like the sound of the wapiti, only much deeper.”
The captain turned immediately to his first mate. “What’s this ‘wapiti,’ Mr. Smiggens?”
“I don’t know, Captain.”
“I do.” Their attention switched to Johanssen. “He’s talking about the American elk.”
“Yes.” Chumash nodded. “Wapiti.” The sound came again, further unnerving the others. The American Indian quietly contemplated the surrounding greenery. “White man calls the sounds it makes ‘bugling.’”
“Bugling, is it?” Blackstrap lowered his weapons. “I ain’t afraid of no elk, no matter how big it is. We ought to have a look at this, wouldn’t you say, Smiggens?”
“If you say so, sir,” the first mate replied dubiously.
“Nay, Captain.” Andreas’s eyes were wide. “Whatever is making that noise is no ordinary animal.”
Blackstrap let out a snort. “Ordinary animals ain’t worth anything to us, man. Though if it be a relative of this here elk, I believe I’ve heard that they make good eating.”
“Very good,” Chumash acknowledged.
The prospect of solid food eased the worries of the men somewhat, however irrational the connection.
“Watch the bird-things,” Blackstrap advised his crew. A glance showed that their captives were ignoring the booming sounds. “They know the dangers of this country. If they be not panicked, then it stands to reason that whatever is making that noise is no threat.”
Pondering this, the men finally relaxed, not for the first time admiring their captain’s ability to see to the heart of a confusing situation.
Smiggens smiled. “Why, Brognar Blackstrap! To hear you, one would almost think you were a student of the scientific method.”
“Watch your language, Mr. Smiggens. I’ll have none of your lip.”
“Yes, sir, but I was giving you a compli—”
“I said belay that!”
Smiggens promptly shut up. Blackstrap was a bomb always waiting to go off, and a man never knew whether or not by some innocent word or deed he’d accidentally lit the fuse. Sometimes the bomb fizzled, and sometimes it even smiled, but it was always, always on the verge of exploding in your face.
A new sound resonated in their ears, different from that which had preceded it but clearly made by the same creature. It lingered plaintively in the mind.
Blackstrap waved his cutlass. “C
ome on, then, and we’ll see what’s afoot.” He turned and strode off in the direction of the sounds. The crew followed, careful to keep a close watch on their captives lest they engineer another embarrassing escape.
The bird-creatures followed docilely, continuing to manifest indifference to the cries even as they grew nearer. Thus reassured, the men were anxious to identify the source of such outlandish wails.
It was not long before they came to a place where trees did not grow. No glade this, or swift-flowing river, but a well-trodden path as wide as a Boston toll road. So firmly packed was the soil that marked the course of the winding trailway that it had the consistency of pavement. The rain forest reappeared in all its lush profusion on the far side.
What had pounded and beaten out such a distinctive
thoroughfare they did not know, but as to the source of the echoing drones there was no longer any question. Espying it, the first two men who had burst out of the verdure close to Blackstrap hurriedly retreated back under cover, one crossing himself repeatedly as he did so. The others crowded close to the edge of the woods, not daring to expose themselves but quite unable to suppress their curiosity.
Striding down the road with its back to them was a creature nearly twenty feet tall. The mottled brown splotches that decorated its wrinkled hide had faded to an unhealthy-looking gray, and most of the distinctive maroon coloring that in youth had tinted the great bony crest had also disappeared, leaving only irregular patches behind.
It shuffled along on its hind legs, occasionally dropping to all fours to rest. At such moments the tail rose from the ground and was held stiffly out behind the animal. Except for the remarkable three-foot-long tube that formed the crest, the skull was very much equine in general appearance. When standing, the beast looked something like a giant kangaroo. Its leg motion "Was similar to that of their captives, though not nearly as energetic or lithe.
Dinotopia - Dinotopia Lost Page 10
