Firestone Page 11

  Shantae inched closer to the peryton, her breath heavy. “Throw the rope!”

  Sephonei pinched her boots to Shantae’s sides and steadied herself. Taking a deep breath, she tossed the rope. It sailed through the air and landed on the tip of one of the peryton’s huge antlers. The peryton made a sound like a ship horn but louder. It shook its head, throwing the rope to the ground.

  Sephonei recoiled the rope as quickly as she could while Shantae charged closer to the peryton, each powerful step releasing a wave of tension through Shantae’s body. Sephonei lifted the rope again, hoping she wouldn’t miss a second time. She leaned forward to get a better angle, then aimed and released. The rope hit the peryton on the hind and slipped to the ground.

  “I can’t keep this pace much longer,” Shantae huffed. “Give me the rope.”

  Sephonei gathered the rope and gave it to Shantae. She heard the crack of splitting wood behind her.

  “It got past me! Run!” Abil screamed.

  Sephonei turned and saw the dragaodon burst through the underbrush. It split a small tree in half, bark scattering in every direction. The thing moved with speed and purpose. It scuttled low to the ground as its powerful legs tore at the earth. Its hollow, soulless, black eyes targeted only the peryton; its forked tongue flicking the air as it barreled closer to Sephonei.

  Sandara charged behind the dragaodon, getting as close as she could. Abil gripped the wooden handle of the crossbow and fired. The arrow bounced off the ridged, rainbow-hued hide of the creature. It was a monster—an unstoppable monster.

  Sephonei looked forward as they burst through the forest’s edge to a clearing. The full moon cast its reflection on her, and she was blinded. Shantae spun the lasso and threw it at the peryton. Success. She pulled the lasso tight around the antler and held on tight…

  The peryton didn’t slow. It bucked and charged while Shantae held it—she dug her powerful legs into the ground and jerked forward. The unbridled power of the huge peryton was too much. She lurched again. Sephonei, blinking to adjust to the light, didn’t see what was happening. She was flung from Shantae’s back and landed flat on the ground—the impact stole her breath.

  Searing pain shot through her. She couldn’t catch her breath and gasped for air. She turned to her hands and knees and coughed violently as she tried to stifle the pain in her chest.

  Ku-aya and Semessa burst into the clearing from the other side and charged towards the dragaodon.

  Ku-aya yelled, “Get up! Get out of the way! What are you doin’? Move!”

  The dragaodon crashed through the clearing followed by Abil and Sandara.

  Everyone was in the clearing now. The peryton dragged Shantae behind Sephonei. Sandara and Abil charged behind the dragaodon, and Semessa and Ku-aya flanked the dragaodon from the other side of the clearing. It was pandemonium.

  Sephonei caught her breath and stood. The thunder of footsteps jarred her—there were so many large creatures barreling towards her. She didn’t know what to do. It was too late to get out of the way, too late to run. So, she stood and watched it all.

  Sandara side-checked the dragaodon; Abil rose to his feet, wobbled, and leaped onto the dragaodon’s back. He gripped a clump of its thick, orange mane. It was odd to see a reptile with a mane; it framed the reptile’s face and coated its neck and shoulders. Being so low to the ground, the bottom of the mane must have been a gnarly mess.

  The dragaodon focused now on its rider. It twisted and reared, bucked and screeched. It shook its head violently, not slowing its pursuit. It snapped and swung its tail, knocking Sandara to the ground in a thunderous crash.

  Sephonei looked to Ku-aya, who flanked the dragaodon but was too far away to do anything. Ku-aya reached out to Sephonei and yelled something Sephonei couldn’t hear. She was stunned from the fall and everything was a blur. The dragaodon was now so close, the putrid scent of its breath assaulting the air around Sephonei. Its body coiled and tensed as it bucked and heaved—Abil swore as he lost his grip. He somersaulted awkwardly as he hit the ground in front of Sephonei, contents from his quiver and holster spilling to the ground.

  Abil grimaced in pain, sprawled before her. The dragaodon charged them and reared, its razor-sharp claws extended hungrily. Lines of color morphed and shimmered as the moonlight struck the ribbed flesh of the creature. Sephonei imagined how she could capture the way the light hit the dragaodon; her charcoal stick might not do it justice. Before she consciously decided to move, she reached back, grabbed her lute, and sang.

  The dragaodon’s body quivered, and it bucked away. It made eye contact with Sephonei, then its eyes glazed over, and it sauntered over to her; its tongue flicked lazily as if to taste the air. Sephonei realized what was happening and kept her tune. The great lizard stood inches from her face, eyes glazed as its tongue flicked absently. Its head was at eye-level with her own. The odor of rotting flesh engulfed Sephonei—she gagged and stepped back.

  No sounds broke the trance. All movement had ceased. All eyes and focus were on Sephonei. Everyone was bewitched by the lute, all held in place by her song. The aura of her music danced in the moonlight. Sephonei almost lost her rhythm when she saw the rainbow-colored aura dance from the lute; it engulfed the auras of the captive crowd.

  Sephonei couldn’t play the lute forever. How was she going to get out of this situation? If she stopped playing, the dragaodon would attack. She cautiously glanced all around her in search of a plan—a way out. Under her feet, Abil was sprawled with a blank look on his face, and drool escaped the corner of his mouth. Maybe she should stop playing, just long enough for the dragaodon to eat Abil. She shook her head at herself.

  Spilled vials and jars of liquid that must have fallen from Abil’s satchel surrounded him. Maybe he had something that could help. She knew Abil had special oils for hunting and protection. He would dip his bolts in the oils to make them more effective. Maybe there was a dragaodon oil. Did that even exist? It was her only option.

  Without halting her strumming or her singing, she scanned the scattered items for anything that could help. Each vial and jar had a symbol on it, probably to indicate what effect it had or what it was. Sephonei didn’t recognize any of the symbols. Her eye moved to one jar that had two bones forming a cross on it. An acrid green liquid filled the jar. She could smell the potency of it from where she stood—or maybe it was the breath of the dragaodon.

  She bent to pick up the jar. Her satchel strap slipped and swung from her shoulders, knocking the lute from her hands.

  Sounds of struggle erupted, breaking the silence. It was as if time had stopped, then started again: Ku-aya yelled at Sephonei and charged ahead; the peryton struggled to break free from Shantae’s hold; Abil shot up to his feet, cried out, then stumbled back and fell. Before he fell, he shot off an arrow at the dragaodon—it bounced off the hide of the creature, and the great lizard reared to strike. Sephonei fell back and lost sight of the jar with the crossbones. She reached out and blindly searched, until her hand closed around a vial. She threw it at the monster.

  The vial exploded off the creature’s skin. A loud whistle and a puff of chalky smoke erupted, followed by splayed shards of glass. The creature stood tall on its hind legs; its body stiffened, and it let out a high-pitched screech.

  The creature’s skin crackled and sizzled. A chalky, white texture spread from the site of impact, encasing the lizard’s body in a matter of seconds. It clawed at the air fruitlessly then froze, its maw pointed to the sky, and its tongue caught in a chalky stone suspension. Whatever was in the vial had turned the dragaodon to stone.

  Ku-aya and the sebtaurs circled the creature and all looked to Sephonei. Ku-aya was the first to speak. “How…? How’d you do that?”

  ROEG

  Great Plains

  R

  oeg hurried to keep up with the old man. Unn was relentless as he walked. Ookum and Tsisa argued about whose hair was more red. Yesterday it had been whose footpads were the harde
st, and the day before that they tried to measure who was taller. It had ended with Ookum being tossed to the ground. Unn had to break them up when Tsisa locked her arms around Ookum’s neck.

  They walked from early morn to nightfall before they made camp as they crossed the Great Plains. Unn knew all the best stops to make camp; he said he had made the journey to the Gnomish Hills once before.

  Roeg caught up to Unn. “You said there’s a fire demon. I… I’ve been dreaming of fire.”

  An inquisitive look crossed Unn’s face. “What do you see?”

  Roeg thought about it for a long while before he answered. “I see firewater. My vision is blurred, and I move slow. Something…” Roeg clasped his throat, “Something holds me then throws me in the firewater.”

  Unn stopped and looked at Roeg, pursing his lips and wrinkling his already-wrinkled face. “What else? Do you hear a voice?”

  Roeg furled his brow and nodded. “A deep voice that isn’t really a voice. It sounds like when the storms come, and the light flashes from the Great Above. It tells me that I have something of his and that he wants it back.”

  Unn nodded and continued to walk, slowly. “The fire demon calls to you through the stone. That is how the Great Mother speaks to me as well. Although I don’t have a stone like you. Don’t fear the dreams—they show you the way. Learn from them. See the pictures in your mind, hear the voices, remember them, and use them when the time comes.”

  Roeg nodded absently and looked into the distance. “How much farther? I’ve seen the mountains in the distance since yesterday, but they are not getting any closer.”

  Unn laughed. “Those are the Gnomish Hills. They don’t get larger until you are right in front of them. It is a trick the Great Plains plays on your eyes. The plains are so flat and so wide that you can see far into the distance. But because they are so big, you have to walk and walk before you are close.”

  Unn looked to Roeg, “Remember Ookum our first day on the plains?” He chuckled. “That is called plains sickness. It happens when someone is used to the coast. The big mountains, the trees—you are surrounded by many large things on the coast. Here in the plains, well, you feel so alone, like nothing is holding you in place, and you could just float away.”

  The first day of the trek, Ookum had broken down. He lost sight of the coastal mountains, the hills, and the Whitewoods, and he couldn’t hear the rush of the sea. In its place was the open plains, an occasional outline of a shadowed tree in the distance, and the sound of wind rustling the tall grasses. He ran to Unn and begged to turn around. He said he was sick and would die. Unn was worried at first; he had made Ookum some tea from a plant he said would calm him. When Ookum became calm, Unn had realized the only thing wrong was that Ookum missed the village.

  Thundering footpads approached, and Roeg braced himself. Tsisa shot by and skidded to a stop beside Unn. “My water pouch is dry.” She lifted her pouch for Unn to see.

  Ookum walked beside Roeg and clicked, “Mine too.”

  Roeg looked to his hide pouch. “I have a sip left. We need to find water.”

  Unn grunted in acknowledgment and pointed to a grouping of hills and trees in the distance. They looked much closer than the mountains where the gnomes lived.

  Unn turned and headed toward them. Roeg tipped his water pouch and a single drop fell to his tongue.

  Roeg looked at the Great Fire above—it peeked over the hills to the west. The sky would be dark soon. He followed Unn up the low hills that bumped up in the flats of the plains, to a ridge where they looked down at the sunken waterhole. When Unn had said “waterhole,” Roeg had thought of the waterhole by the village. The village waterhole was only big enough for several younglings to swim, jump, and play in.

  This waterhole was different. It spanned almost as far as Roeg could see. Lowland hills made a ring around the sunken waterhole, and green woods wrapped around the far side of the hills. Many herds of land-beasts surrounded the waterhole. There were mainly grass-eaters, but Roeg spied several large meat-eaters.

  When a land-beast ventured too far into the water, the water-dwellers would come to life and drag the land-beast under. Several large, two-horned buffalo were too slow, and the water-dwellers feasted. A great frenzy of torn flesh and blood painted the waters.

  Unn hid behind a large rock. “There is the waterhole.” He pointed and grunt-clicked to indicate distance.

  Roeg knelt beside the old man. Ookum and Tsisa jostled for space, settling when Ookum found a new spot.

  Roeg poked his head around the rock. “How are we going to get water?”

  Unn looked to the Great Above in a plea for answers. “There are more beasts than the last time I was here. More water too.”

  “We could go down and chase them away.” Tsisa offered with a low growl.

  Ookum pointed to the far side of the waterhole. “Look. There are huge onehorn’rs over there!”

  Tsisa growled, “I’m not scared of no onehorn’rs. They can’t be worse than tusksnort’rs.”

  Ookum puffed out his chest. “Krukk said one time at the Great Hunt, there were onehorn’rs, and they charged at them and wouldn’t stop. Not like when a mammoth charges—mammoths will stop if you spook them.”

  Tsisa gripped her spear and stamped it on the ground. “I’m thirsty. I will get us water.”

  The onehorn’rs looked fierce. They each had one large horn on their woolly snouts. It was hard to tell from so far away, but the horns looked to stand taller than Unn. They were covered in thick matts of tangled, brown wool. The beasts were aggressive, fighting and charging at each other in a large group.

  Roeg scanned the shoreline. He saw great mammoths, large twohorn’rs, and several packs of the laughing spotted dogs. One pack growled as they tore into a mammoth carcass. Roeg shivered.

  “We can’t just charge down there,” Unn said as he looked at Tsisa. “We need to sneak down.”

  “How are we going to sneak?” Ookum clicked.

  Unn got up and walked toward a large tree that stood alone on the small hill opposite the waterhole. He clicked for the trio to follow.

  Once the group reached the tree, Unn grunt-clicked, “Up that tree are leaves. Those leaves will hide our smell, if we rub them on our bodies. I saw a place at the waterhole where we could sneak and get water undetected.”

  Unn looked at Roeg. “With those long legs of yours, climbing this tree should be easy.” He laughed. “Go up and throw down some leaves.”

  Roeg looked up at the tree. He had seen these types of trees in the distance. He usually noticed them in the early light of day or when the Great Fire above set. They stood out on the horizon. This tree had one tall trunk that spread as it rose to the Great Above, splaying its green leaves wide.

  “I am not sure I can make it that high—even the longneck’rs can’t reach that high. Maybe there is a shorter tree?”

  Unn looked all around and click-grunted, “Do you see any other trees like this?”

  Roeg scanned the landscape, but there were no other trees like this tree nearby. Unn pointed to the top of the tree and gestured with his chin, adding a low grunt for effect. He turned and walked over to an area where the grasses were a little shorter, dropping his staff and sitting down. He plucked a blade of grass, held it between his palms, and blew. A song of grass and wind hummed from the old man.

  Unn tossed the grass, and it sailed in the wind. He looked at Roeg. “I played to give you strength.” He chuckled, rolled to his back, and tucked his hands behind his head. Wearing a wide grin, he closed his eyes and hummed the same grass song.

  Roeg walked to the tree and climbed the trunk until a he could reach a low branch, then he pulled himself up. The first half was easy. His long legs were made to climb. It was when the large trunk broke off into smaller limbs that it became tricky. Sharp spikes grew from the thin branches, making it hard to maintain grip and position his feet.

  Ookum called from below, “Don’t
fall! There are too many thorns. Maybe my sling’r can help?” He stretched his sling’r and shot at the thorns, barely missing Roeg. Roeg lost his balance and fell, landing on the branch below. Before he fell farther, he gripped the branch tightly and secured himself.

  Tsisa hit her brother in the arm and grunted, “Don’t do that.”

  She grabbed the stone end of her spear and stretched the knobby wooden end to Roeg. “Here, grab this.”

  As she stretched and poked the end of the spear at Roeg, it hit him in the face.

  He looked down and yelled, “Stop helping!”

  Ookum laughed at Tsisa. She dropped the spear and lunged at her brother. They wrestled in the grass as Roeg got his footing. He flinched as something stung his arm. Then he felt another sting and another. He swatted at his arms, then his legs, and eventually at his whole body. He saw little red bugs with huge pinchers crawling all over his skin. He reached for leaves as quickly as he could and threw them to the ground.

  “How’s it going up there?” Unn chuckled without looking up.

  Roeg slapped at one last pinch’r and fell, landing with a thud. Other than having the wind knocked out of him and several bites and stings, he was okay.

  Unn stood and stretched. He walked to the pile of leaves and picked up a handful, then stuck them in his mouth and chewed. When he was satisfied, he spit the gob into his hands and rubbed it over his body. Using his chin, he pointed to the leaves and grunted for the other three to follow.

  Covered in the green slime from the thorn tree, Unn led Roeg, Tsisa, and Ookum down to the waterhole. “This side has fewer land-beasts. We can get water more easily.”

  “My eyes sting,” Ookum complained as he rubbed his eyes.

  “You were supposed to leave a space around your eyes, Ookum,” Tsisa whispered loudly.