Norton, Andre - Anthology

by Baleful Beasts (and Eerie Creatures) (v1. 0)

  Deciding to see if it would understand cat language, I walked toward it, stiff-legged. When I pulled loose from her grasp, Ellie didn't like it. "Come back here, Tigger!" she hissed. "That thing could eat you in one gulp!"

  But I kept right on. Since Ellie didn't have a blaster for protection, this was my responsibility. I walked up to the nearest bush and sprayed it liberally with my strongest-smelling liquid. I moved on to the next tree and repeated the action. Monster Cat, as I'd begun to think of the creature, followed me around, sniffing at each place. In doing so, it turned its back on Ellie, and I heard a scuffling noise from her direction. When I looked again, she had shinnied up the nearest tree. Not a very big tree, it was inclined to bend under her. And I noticed with some exasperation that she had left all her equipment on the ground. Such carelessness, I thought. Suppose Monster Cat decided to eat it? What did she think I could do about that?

  I turned back to look at the monster and could hardly believe my eyes. It didn't look much bigger than me! What's more, it was rolling on the ground with its feet in the air— an obvious invitation to play. Could I have been mistaken about its size? I had a distinct impression of a big creature, but perhaps it had looked tall because it was up in a bush. There was something here I didn't understand. So slowly and carefully, belly close to the ground and nose stretched out ahead, I approached.

  Then I heard Ellie calling from the tree. "Tigger! Come back here, Tigger! It's a trap, you idiot!"

  I didn't pay any attention. Let her stay up in the tree where she was safe. I was going to get to the bottom of this

  It was certainly acting like one—a cute little female for me to play with.

  Just as my nose was about to touch the stomach of this strange creature, it leaped to its feet, turning completely around as it did so. It stood there facing me, every hair on end and every tooth exposed, breathing in quick gasps. And with every gasp it got bigger . . . and bigger . . . and bigger! Soon it was as big as I remembered it, towering over me. I didn't wait to see how big it could really get. I turned and ran. The monster came after me, pouncing as I would pounce after a rat.

  Ellie was yelling at me, "I told you so! I told you! Hurry and get up this tree, you silly, crazy cat!"

  Who's crazy? I thought, as I dashed past her and scurried under a bush and around a clump of trees. If I go up your tree with this thing after me, the whole tree will come down. But I didn't try to talk to her. I was too busy keeping a good distance between myself and that horror.

  It was then that I began to notice that same strange behavior. The monster was getting smaller! I was able to outrun it as long as it was big and I was small, for I could dive into narrow openings between trees and rocks. But soon it was small enough to follow without any trouble—it was almost down to my size. Everything seemed to shrink except its head and that mouth full of fangs.

  I'd never heard of an animal that could change its size like this, but on an unexplored world, anything is possible. This will never do, I thought. It's gaining on me. It's getting through the close cover as fast as I am.

  Of course I had another way out. I could really run away and try and find a hole that was too small for it to get into. But that meant leaving Ellie up the tree when I was supposed to be protecting her. And anyway, with all those claws, it seemed obvious that this thing could climb, too. If it lost interest in me, it might climb up after Ellie. And

  although I'd had a frightening glimpse of how big this thing could grow, I had no idea how small it could get. With my luck it could probably shrink small enough to follow me into any old hole!

  So I just kept moving, running so fast I hardly noticed where I was going. Two big trees loomed up ahead. They were so close together, I just managed to squeeze through. Could the monster follow me? It was down almost to my size now and just made it. A little bigger and it might have been stuck.

  That gave me an idea. I began to circle. I could hear it right on my tail and I put on speed. I managed prodigious

  leaps from rocks to tree stumps. If I could only make the monster grow big again! I could probably lick it if it stayed small, but I knew it wouldn't—especially in a fight. If only I could make it get big again just as he reached those trees. Fighting would do it. And so might fear!

  As I bounced off a rock slide and cleared a small stream, I could almost feel the saliva dripping from that cat's jaws. The two trees were coming up in front again, and suddenly I was inspired. I remembered my bobcat yell. That used to throw a fright into everyone.

  I've been trained by Ellie to always lower my voice. She used to tell me about the famous man in the olden days on Earth who said that the bobcat has "a shriek and yell like the devils of hell."

  "And we don't want any devils in a spaceship, please," she would say.

  But right now, I thought, the devils would come in handy. The trees were close ahead, and just as I reached them and bounded through, I let out my old bobcat scream. I hadn't done it for. so long, I thought I might have forgotten. But it came out high and clear, seeming to echo all through the forest in a frenzy of sound.

  I heard an answering scream from Ellie in the tree, and when I looked up, I could see her clutching a branch, having almost fallen from her perch.

  "Tigger! Tigger!" she yelled. "Are you all right? Did it get you? Come up the tree at once. Oh, why don't you do what I tell you?"

  "Because you tell me all wrong!" I cried, looking up at her from the bottom of the tree. "I've trapped the monster. Now come down here fast so we can scram before it gets loose again."

  But she couldn't seem to understand what I was saying. I don't know why it is that I can understand humans better than they can understand me. There must be something lacking in their brains. But there it was. And all the while the monster was struggling to escape from the tree trap. It had blown itself up to its biggest size, and while its head was sticking out on the near side of the trees, its body was kicking on the far side, and its long neck was caught firmly in between. It was growling and snapping and snarling, but I couldn't be sure how long it would stay there. Once it calmed down, it would figure out that all it had to do was shrink a few sizes. I was jumping up and down at the foot of Ellie's tree, trying to get through to her, when I fell over some of her equipment. I stopped and looked it over. What was most valuable to her? Why, the packet of newly collected leaves, of course! Without another thought, I picked them up in my mouth and headed back toward the spaceship.

  Ellie yelled after me. "Tigger! Come back! Where are you going with my specimens? Tigger!"

  I ignored her, running till I was out of sight. And then I stopped. I heard her scrambling down the tree, but did I hear the monster? Though it was still hissing hideously and seemed to be staying in the same place, I let out another scream, just to be sure.

  It was then that Ellie burst through the bushes, carrying the rest of her gear and crying, "Tigger, don't do that! You've already scared the pants off the whole forest!"

  I didn't argue with her. She could see where I was, and I lost no time in setting a fast pace back to the ship.

  Later that evening, I heard her telling the captain about our adventure. She received a scolding of sorts.

  "That'll teach you to go into an alien forest without some kind of weapon!" the captain said.

  "Oh, but I do have a weapon with me," she told him. "I have Tigger. He's better than any blaster you take along!"

  Yes, that's me—Tigger—the best blaster on the spaceship Condor!

  The Spell of Spirit Stones

  by ALICE WELLMAN

  Though we had entered the forest only ten minutes before, the branches of the great trees locked in a dark roof above us, and ropy vines twisted down to block our path. I clung to Jinell's hand as if I were six instead of way past twelve. Each step drew us deeper into the forest's green mouth.

  I said, "Let's go back. This wasn't such a good idea—"

  "No," Jinell said firmly. "You beg me to go. We go."

  Her f
ace had set into grim lines, and her eyes held a strange glitter.

  She was right about my begging to visit her home village. Dad had driven off that morning, headed for a two-day conference with the other scientists of his group. The

  American foundation that sponsored Dad's research project in the Pakaraima Highlands of Guyana required quarterly reports on the findings. I waved to Dad until the jeep was

  out of sight, then I ran to find Jinell. She was doing the wash behind our camp home.

  "Come on, Jinell. You can wash tomorrow. This is a great chance for you to visit your people."

  She wiped her perspiring face on her sleeve. "No, Nan-cee. Your father said I should keep both eyes on you while he is gone. We do not go off this place."

  "But you promised. You said you must see your brother before the snow lies white on the mountains. And the last time Dad went, you said you'd take me the next time he had to leave."

  I knew I was being unfair to remind Jinell of her promises. They had been the when-peace-covers-my-people-we-go-Nan-cee kind. But to the Akawai Indians a promise was a bond, an unbreakable bond.

  Jinell sighed. She stuck the wash into the soak water and faced me. "We go now. Dress for rough walking. This is a time for strong steps and eyes wide open."

  It didn't take long for me to pull on my thick denim slacks, mosquito boots, and a long-sleeved plaid blouse. I hurried to meet Jinell in front of the house, but stopped short, amazed by the sight of an alien and startling apparition before me—a Jinell I didn't know. Cloth of brilliant stripes hugged her hips, her honey-tan body nude above it, with half-moon breasts nearly hidden by strands of shells and red berries. Bands of glistening green-gold beetle wings wound about her upper arms, and iridescent tree bark dangled from her ears and dark curling hair. She was beautiful.

  "I leave my people a shaman, and I return to them a shaman," she said, pointing to the sling of jaguar skin hanging from her shoulder. "We do not go without my spirit powers—my powers as el tigre."

  The Jinell I knew was pretty but she had always worn the shapeless dresses the Waramadong Mission supplied to their Indian students. The mission served all Amerindian settlements of this part of the Amazon forest highlands, and we first arrived at the house near the Kamarang River. "Be good to my little girl," Dad had said. "Nancy has no one but me to care for her." And Jinell was good to me, very good.

  It was slow going through the forest now. The ground was spongy and a spatter of heavy dew fell on us. "The forest weeps," Jinell said. "It weeps for me."

  She walked proudly with long sure steps I had difficulty matching. I'd always hated being small, pale, and blond, and when forest vines caught my long hair, I wished I had tied it up. But I didn't let that slow my pace.

  "Jinell, why did you become a shaman if you didn't want to stay with your people?" I looked up at her forbidding face.

  Her voice was bitter as she said, "A shaman trains with suffering for two years. One dies before becoming a shaman. I did not leave of my own will."

  Her answer left me even more curious about what could have driven her from her people into a routine of house help for Dad and me. A shaman understands the demands and needs of the spirit world, Dad had explained, and through spirit magic protects the people who look to the shaman for leadership. I wasn't surprised that Jinell was a shaman. I'd always sensed an unusual power in her.

  Shrill cries burst from the fig tree not far ahead of us. Both my hands gripped Jinell's as I pulled back in alarm.

  "Howlers, Nan-cee," she said, and at once a spiteful chorus of the resonant howls of male monkeys and the harsh barks of the females challenged us. I tried to laugh, for the howlers—with all their infernal noise—were quite harmless. But as we walked toward the fig, the screaming gained in volume. Jinell's eyes met those of the dominant male who crouched on a lower limb. His shaggy neck was swollen with the force of his horrible howls.

  At once all noise ceased. The silence of the forest 66 seemed unreal, more frightening than the noise. "Why did the monks stop howling?" I asked, moving closer to Jinell.

  "I told them to stop."

  "How—how did you tell them?" I'd heard no sound from her.

  "My total spirit, Akwalu, holds power in the forest. It speaks to forest creatures like one to one. Stand quiet, Nan-cee. I give you spirit stones."

  I "stood quiet," waiting. Jinell took three stones from her sling of Jaguar skin—two the size of Brazil nuts, the third a tiny red pebble no bigger than a fresh pea. She rubbed the stones between her palms, then blew deeply on them.

  "Swallow this." She gave me the red pebble. When I hesitated, she insisted. "Good to swallow. It stay with you all the days you live. Always you can hear the words of my total spirit and always you can speak to me."

  The red pebble went down my throat like nothing at all. She put the crystal stone in my hand. "This will free you from bad spirits. And this. . ." The third stone was polished quartz shaded with green. "This . . . think well what I say. This stone will call my forest spirit to help you."

  "But Jinell," I protested. "How can I need help from bad spirits when I am with you?"

  "What will be will be." She held open the right-hand pocket of my denims. "Put your stones in here. You will feel the rough of the freeing-stone and the smooth of the call-stone. When you face trouble, blow your spirit into the stone and throw it far. My spirit will take it from the air."

  We walked on. "We go to my people as I promised you. But Ekjojo, the shaman who leads them now, is the man whose spirits fought my spirits and outwitted them. He made me leave my people. His total spirit holds power in the plains, the mountains, and the water. You and I do not know what he feels against me, but my young brother, grown to full man since I left the Akawai, tells me with his red speak-pebble that Ekjojo's magic grows weak. Time calls me back."

  Jinell's voice gained a strange power. "Keep close, Nan-cee. Do not go beyond the touch of my hand. I hold great fear for you."

  Light filtered through the trees. We heard the distant sound of laughter. Uncanny and mocking, it grew louder as we reached the forest's end. Though the sunshine splotching the ground was cheerful, the wild unearthly laughter came in sudden peals, and fear rose in my throat.

  Jinell must have felt me shrink against her. "The mountain ghouls laugh. Shaman Ekjojo holds a seance. They laugh at his songs. Keep close, Nan-cee. We enter Akawai over the rise."

  Quickly we climbed the rise, went down the slope through a stand of heavy bamboo, and came to a clearing within high bushes and palms. Houses of rough bark huddled together—all empty.

  Men, women, and children sat motionless around a low platform of saplings. When rustlings rose from a nearby bush, all heads turned to stare. "Ekjojo brings his leaves," Jinell said softly, and she pulled me down beside her in the outer circle.

  Almost at once, a robust young man leaped from the bush, strode with an easy grace to the platform, and swept his outstretched hands around the circle of villagers. He was handsome, with thick wavy hair and comely features, yet his smile held lust for power as well as welcome. I could feel it.

  He sang, shaking his "leaves" in rhythm to his song. The "leaves"—four large twigs of trees tied together—were like thick pompons of rustling green. He flapped them in a swishing pattern and snapped them in time to his chant.

  The dark mottled skins of the great water snake, the 68 anaconda, wound about his red breechcloth. This—except for the many strings of cotton covered with white bird down that dangled over his shoulders and arms—was his only garment.

  Jinell reached for my hand and tucked it under her arm. Immediately the shaman's eyes fixed on us and his teeth gritted together in a sinister smile. Hatred flashed from his eyes. He cupped his hands about his mouth and snarled, "swas-i-i-k swoak" into the air above our heads.

  I felt as if I'd been struck. Jinell put her hand on my knee and gripped it firmly as a young man with warm brown eyes slid down beside her. He folded his legs in front of him as we ha
d done, and Jinell blew into his ear. I nodded to him, for I knew the muscular youth must be her brother.

  Shaman Ekjojo lifted a small barrel. He drank deeply with violent coughing and spitting. From somewhere a whistle sounded. "Shu-ee-ee." The shaman was trembling all over, and the bird-down strings about his shoulders began to crawl like long white worms.

  Suddenly wings beat above my head. I looked up to see a giant gray and black bird with a white-down breast hovering above me.

  Jinell shrieked. Her hand left my knee and her arms reached out for me.

  In that split second when her touch was lost to me, the giant bird swooped. Its beak seized my shoulder and snatched me from her arms. Pumping in ever-quickening strokes, the powerful wings bore me up into cold, dry currents of air.

  Jinell's screams followed me, then slowly died away as we headed toward a cone-shaped mountain in the Pakaraima range. My body felt light as the air, and though the curved beak clamped tightly on my shoulder, I felt no pain. Only panic filled me. I could not cry out. When the mountain loomed close, I could see, above

  the tree line, broad sheets of rock with thick plants growing erratically between them. I would be dashed against those rocks any moment now, yet somehow any fate seemed better than this terror.

  But no! The taloned feet clutched my waist, and the massive wings thrashed against the chill wind. I hung sideways, barely clearing the rocks, and a hideous chant of croaks and groans over a muffled thudding floated through the frigid air.

  The giant hawk carried me over the sharp rock ledge of the mountaintop where I saw a swarm of shapeless non-human things bouncing up and down in aimless fashion. Terrible to hear and even more terrible to see, the creatures were as formless as jellyfish, their long tentaclelike arms striking the lava rock of the mountaintop with every bounce. Each thing bobbed to its own time so that the thudding never paused or stopped.

  The huge claws of the bird released my waist, its beak opened, and I fell into the center of the ghastly mass. Lying still on the jagged lava, a freezing wind swept over me. I shook with the chill, but the trembling that seized me when I opened my eyes and saw the formless faces clustered above me was worse. Lidless eyes under hairy brows peered at me, and pale straggly beards trailed from the nonhuman blobs. Smacking colorless lips, the creatures made greedy sucking sounds that congealed my blood.