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Even though the grass was generally above Hanomer’s head, his hearing, sense of smell, and intuition still made him the best scout. With Hanomer up ahead, and Dave and Arlana covering their advance on the right and left respectively, Chartrand, Larsen, Tandor, and Al made their way across the grassland in a southeasterly direction. Reaching the edge of the escarpment without incident, they hid a bread-crumb transmitter in a large bush with a note indicating their direction, then began following the rough trail, which bordered the cliff edge in a southeasterly direction.
Dave knew they were in even more danger on the edge of the escarpment than on the grasslands. The low hills and short grass, interspersed with bushes, meant Hanomer’s keen eyes provided not nearly as much protection as before. Without sufficient warning, the group was in danger of being surprised by Bigelow and his company’s return. To counteract this danger, Dave and Arlana took turns joining Hanomer in scouting well ahead of the party. Hanomer’s woodcraft was such that he could hide almost anywhere, while Dave and Arlana’s living cloaks made them almost impossible to see, even in open terrain.
The scouts saw the occasional herd of pachydons in the distance, but only once did the party take cover over the precipice edge as the bulls charged. Eventually, the trail began to turn due east and the escarpment changed. The first terrace stopped, and the escarpment cliff descended into the depths as one unbroken wall, sinking straight past a bank of clouds that they could see a thousand meters below the edge.
Off to the east a series of higher hills appeared on the horizon, hazy in the distance, with even higher hills behind them. The short grass and scrub brush gradually gave way to a mixture of meadows and trees with the copses growing larger the further they progressed. The meadows they encountered were crossed by small creeks that disappeared over the edge of the precipice, dissolving into mist as the water plunged hundreds of meters into the cloud-shrouded depths of Sheol.
The trail began to climb the first forest-covered hill. Rock—jutting out like giant raisins in a pastry—broke the contour of the hill. Cliffs twenty or more paces high redirected the trail into an irregular switch back. The path entered an upward-sloping narrow crack between two large cliff faces and emerged at the top of the first hill. The crest was composed of bare rock with small depressions that were filled with soil and small yellow flowers. By unspoken consent, they stopped to catch their breath and to have a meal in the sunshine. Looking ahead, Dave saw the trail plunge back into the trees and emerge on the next hill, which was both higher than the one they were on, and bare of trees. The hill ahead reminded Dave of the back of a monk’s crown-shaven head.
Linder pointed into the sky far to the east. “What’s that?”
Dave and Arlana both shielded their eyes. “They look like bats,” said Dave.
“Very large bats, given the distance,” added Arlana. “Their wing span must be twenty to thirty paces.”
“What are they?” Dave asked, looking at Tandor.
“I can’t say for sure. We know the wizards make many weird and terrible monsters with their experiments. That’s why we don’t come here.”
“They could be really large given the high air pressure here,” said Al. “Tandor didn’t you say that dragons were not able to fly to the higher terraces because they were too large?”
“I don’t think they can be dragons,” said Tandor. “There are, however, flying creatures that are smaller and lighter than dragons called vuls, which, although mainly carrion eaters, can kill large animals. It’s my guess you are probably seeing those.”
“But they are still very large,” said Arlana shading her eyes.
“Back home,” said Al, “the largest flying creature is the California Condor. It has a wing span of up to three meters. But here, with perhaps three times the air pressure, much larger creatures could fly because the accessible wing loading would be higher. Those things could be big enough to carry off a man, so we had better be careful.”
Chartrand gave Al one of his indulgent looks that said, “Too much information, Professor.”
“Yeah,” said Dave, “we need a break. But let’s not stop here where we’re exposed and easily seen. Why not move under the shelter of the trees? We should be safe there. I don’t like the look of those bats or birds, regardless of the—err fascinating speculation about their wing loading.”
They repacked their knapsacks and moved into the trees. The shade was more ominous and less pleasant than the sunlit open crest. A gloomy mood seemed to seize everyone. They ate hurriedly, and then followed the trail into the valley. At the bottom, a small river blocked their path. The trail appeared to cross the river at a ford, but the waters were swollen from recent rains and no one wanted to attempt the crossing there. Dave headed upstream with Arlana while Al headed downstream with the others looking for a better place to cross.
Suddenly a terrible smell assaulted Dave; a smell of carrion and death, and he heard a squeal of terror off to their right. Looking in the direction of the noise, he saw nothing; the trees were sixty to ninety centimeters diameter with an undergrowth of bushes, which limited visibility. Glancing back at Arlana, he signaled for her to wait. She shook her head vigorously. Sighing, Dave crept through the trees cautiously. The stench grew stronger, and the squealing was replaced by loud, anxious barking. An armoured monstrosity, the size of a small cow with a spiked tail, came into view. With its back claws on the half-eaten carcass of a pony-sized animal, the monster was digging vigorously into the bank. The barking, filled with terror and growing more frantic, came from under the bank.
Dave stepped onto a twig with a loud snap. The monster backed out of the shallow depression it was digging, and turned to face him. It was grey, with a thick, rhinoceros-like hide, its head resembling that of a crocodile. It squinted at Dave, narrowing its small red eyes, then moved cautiously toward him, each step snapping twigs in the undergrowth. Its stolid, unhurried approach unnerved him. As it cleared the hillside, its spiked tail swung back and forth in a wide arc, scything through branches as if warding off an attack from the rear. Dave and Arlana both fired projectiles. The bolt and arrow stuck in the neck and shoulder of the creature, but did not penetrate deeply. The creature’s eyes seemed to blaze at the wounds, and it increased its speed to a lope, crushing even moderate-sized branches in its charge. It still gave no cry. Dave whipped out Gram while he and Arlana split up, forcing the monster to face one of them. The creature turned toward Arlana. Its forelegs were long, powerful, and clawed. Dave waited for the tail to flash by, then rushed in and hacked at it. The sword cut deeply, severing the appendage. The monster bellowed in rage as black blood spurted out of the stump, as the monster turned towards Dave.
Dave backed up. The creature’s long, clawed paw struck out, gashing Dave’s living cloak. Dave stumbled backwards in surprise at the creature’s reach, but stopped his fall by steadying himself against a tree. Another claw lashed out. But Dave was ready, and sliced the forearm off with a clean stroke.
The monster hissed. It was visibly weakening from the loss of blood. Arlana rushed in and hacked furiously at the monster’s flank, making only a few shallow cuts in its armoured hide. But at last, the monster stopped moving. Teetering for a moment, it toppled over. The blood flowing from its wounds stopped.
Dave cautiously stepped around the carcass and walked to the den. A grey pup was whimpering inside. Dave spoke calmly, but the pup would not come out of its hiding place. Dave took some food from his pack and held it out. The pup slowly emerged, nosing at the dried meat. Dave rubbed the pup around the neck, as it munched on the food, then he looked back at Arlana. She was examining the carcass in front of the den. “You know what that is don’t you? It’s a lup. When it grows up it will be a killer. You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking are you?”
“Look at him Arlana. I can feel his thoughts when I stroke him. He’s hungry and scared. He’ll starve if we leave him.”
“Husband, I will say this in the most loving way I can. Taking a lup as a pet is one of the most stupid—perhaps the most stupid thing you have ever done. He’s going to grow up to be a killer. How do you know you’ll be able to control him? He and his kind are products of the Bent Ones, or their forbearers anyway. In the state of mind you’re in, you’ll only realize you’ve made a mistake when your ‘pet’ kills someone. How will you feel then? How can you even take that chance? Our histories tell us the ancient Bent Ones warped and blended wolves and humans to make creatures like him. When they did so, they unleashed a great evil on the world. Creation of the lupi was a big mistake.”
Dave felt stubbornness well up inside him. I know she’s probably right. But I just can’t let the little fella starve.
“You may be right, Arlana, but how do we know that this mistaken creation can’t be redeemed? After all, I’m also a bent creation, in a way. If I can be redeemed, maybe this little fella can be too. We can’t know if that’s possible unless we try. We can always destroy him if we have to. Shouldn’t we at least give him a chance? Shouldn’t we try to mend before we destroy?”
“You don’t even know if the other lup parent is dead. What if he comes to waylay us? Lupi are smart and deadly. He could track us for miles.”
Dave didn’t answer, but picked up and caressed the little lup.
Arlana threw up her hands in exasperation, then pursed her lips. Dave carried the lup in his arms as they retraced their steps back through the woods, found the river, and continued their search upstream. Just ahead, the river rushed through a narrow cut in the rock. A massive tree had fallen across the river. Dave gave the pup to Arlana and climbed out on the fallen tree. He began lopping off branches with Gram. When he reached the other side, he came back and said, “I think this will do. Let’s tell the others.”
When Arlana and Dave rejoined the group, the others were pleased to hear about the fallen tree, but were as displeased by the prospect of a lup whelp in their company as Arlana had been. Still Dave would not relent, so they gave up arguing. Dave announced he would name the lup “Horatio.”
Dave placed the pup into the top of his pack so that it could peep out, and they resumed their journey.
The group crossed the fast-flowing river using the huge fallen tree. Rejoining the trail, they climbed the next hill. Avoiding the open glades, they kept to the woods, looking up frequently for the winged creatures they had seen.
After twenty minutes, as they were approaching another open glade, Dave, who was leading, heard a hiss like a steam engine. He put up his fist and everyone stopped. Creeping forward to the edge of the glade, Dave saw a large form with folded, bat-like wings crouching over a mound in the middle of the glade. The mound looked like a partly eaten antelope. The harsh cries of other flyers rang from above as the winged monstrosity tore at the flesh of the antelope, looking into the air after each bite to see if anything would challenge its kill. The vul’s body was the size of a cow, but long and thin. It ended in a snake-like neck, terminated with a head the size of an elongated basketball with a rounded mouth filled with razor-like teeth. Its wings served as a second set of legs, with claws at the wing joint. Its hind legs were long, and ended in huge claws, which were embedded in the flesh of its prey and had been used to kill the animal, judging by the deep talon rips in the antelope’s hide.
When the vul saw the group, it gave out a shriek and a hiss, unfolded its wings and carried its prey into the upper reaches of a tall tree where it resumed its meal.
“Wow,” said Al, “I don’t much like the look of that.” It could certainly kill us and carry us away if we were caught in the open.” Al decided to leave a breadcrumb transmitter at the site. He tied the device to a tree on the crest, along with a note about the vuls.
The band returned to the trail and followed it down a gentle slope. Soon the trail bent to the right around a rock outcropping. Al crept out onto the ledge to have a clear view ahead, outside the cover of the trees.
When he returned he said, “It looks like we have another valley ahead and then the trail switches back and forth to climb a large cliff. The cliff is an effective barrier and stretches many kilometers to either side. Once we reach the cliffs it looks as if we won’t have any trees for cover until we get to the top.”
When they reached the valley, they startled a deer, which ran away from them in panic down a game trail. As the deer passed under an arch that was formed by two trees whose branches met over the trail, they heard a series of twangs, as if several bow strings had been released. They watched as the deer lifted high into the air.
“What was that?” asked Larsen, fear tinging his voice.
“I think that tree just killed the deer,” said Chartrand.
Al picked up a small branch and approached the still carcass of the deer hanging about two meters above the trail. Its body was pierced by five or six barbed thorns, each at least sixty centimeters long. Working from a distance, Al used the branch to lift the broad green leaves from the left stem of the arch tree, uncovering an arsenal of thorns. Each of the tree’s branches was secured by a vine-like fiber attached to the tree’s trunk. Al touched the thorns, but nothing happened.
“Al,” said Dave, “look at those vines that stretch from trunk to trunk just above the trail.”
Al used his branch to touch one of the vines. The vine snapped immediately, shooting two thorns into the path before retracting upwards.
What have we gotten ourselves into? thought Dave. Even the plants are killers. We haven’t been nearly careful enough.
“More work of the Mutandi wizards,” said Tandor. “They will always find ways to kill people through their infernal creations. Luckily, there usually be only few of each kind, or so our knowledge teaches. It wouldn’t do to meet a thicket of these arch trees.”