Heights of the Depths

by Peter David

  The pain, which had been slow to come initially, began to spread through Norda’s upper body. She whimpered even more loudly and then slowly climbed out from under the bench.

  The dug was lying a few feet away. His body was twitching, and Norda went to him quickly and poked him and begged him not to go, but he did just the same. In fact, he was likely already dead by the time she touched him; it was just some after-the-fact spasming.

  Norda realized what had happened. The dug had been protecting her. He had seen that she was injured, and heedless of any danger to himself, he had attacked the creature that had thrown the invisible spear at her…

  …and he had died for his efforts.

  The pain began to subside as it gave way to a swell of anger, and that swell quickly escalated into a virtual maelstrom. The dug had sacrificed himself defending her, and the thing that had killed him was running away on the assumption that it was going to get away free and clear and that nothing could stop it.

  The creature was going to discover that it was wrong.

  With a roar that would have sounded at home in the throat of a monster roaming a primeval forest, Norda Kinklash sprinted down the aisle as fast as her legs would carry her. It should have been quickly. I should not have hesitated for even half a moment. I should have just killed it quickly and not even paused to wonder whether it should live or die. I made a mistake. It will not be a mistake I make a second time.

  There was a door at the far end of the chamber. Assuming that that was the door through which the creature had passed, she burst through it without slowing. It opened out onto a garden, and for half a heartbeat she was almost distracted by the attractive scents wafting her way. Then she remembered where she was and what her goal was, and with that recollection came the scent of the creature that she was trailing. He had run across the yard and kept going, and there was no way that he was going to get away from her. She paused only a moment for her nostrils to flare and his spoor to be brought solidly into her consciousness, and then she took off after him. (She had started thinking of “it” as a him, not realizing it was the beginning of the end of her ability to kill him.)

  He had been moving quickly, she would give him that much. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have overtaken him in no time. As it was, she was slightly slowed from blood loss. Her instinct was to climb under a rock somewhere and allow herself time to heal. But that was not an option; she could not allow the creature to get away, and there was no telling how long his spoor would remain on this surface. Instead she gave herself over to her rage, allowing it to push away any impulse to pass out or give up. It drove her forward and she hurtled down the sidewalk after her target.

  Down and around a corner, she heard another sound of a door shutting. This one was even heavier than the one back at her home. She rounded the corner and found the door immediately. The creature’s scent brought her right to it.

  There was a broad, flat upright handle on the door. Norda pulled on it and the door didn’t open. Clearly it was locked.

  Norda let out a howl of fury. Her left shoulder was starting to go numb but she shook it off. She grabbed the handle with both hands this time and pulled. The door seemed no more interested in giving way to her than it had when she first pulled on it. Norda, however, was not as easily deterred as that. Instead she leaped up onto the wall, sank her clawed toes into the brick face for additional purchase, and pulled again with all her strength. The pain in her shoulder was searing by this point, and again she shook it off, determined to let nothing distract her.

  The door continued to remain unmoving, resisting her every effort, and Norda bit down on her lower lip so tightly that she drove her fangs into them and caused a small trickle of blood to run from it. Just at the moment when her brain was screaming at her that this was getting her absolutely nowhere and if she had the slightest bit of intelligence she would just give up already, the door suddenly flew open with the sound of metal shattering. Even though it had been the result that Norda was fighting for, it still caught her off guard with the result being that she fell right off the wall, chipping the brickface as she went. Her legs hit the ground and the only thing that prevented her from lying flat on the sidewalk was the fact that she was still clutching on to the door.

  She lay there for a moment, pulling herself together, and then she scrambled to her feet and ran through the door.

  She would have been well advised to do so with far less velocity.

  Darkness swallowed her and before her eyes had the opportunity to adjust, her feet went out from under her. It was at that point that Norda realized there was a flight of stairs running off a small landing at the door, and Norda had charged right off the landing and hit the stairs without slowing. As a result she went headlong off the platform and down the stairs, tumbling end over end, losing any hope of stealth as she made a hellacious racket. She tried to reach out and grab something, anything, to slow her descent, but she was too busy being flipped around as she practically somersaulted down the stairs, which seemed to go on forever even though it actually only occupied a few seconds.

  She hit another landing and nearly skidded right off it before sinking her claws into it and halting her downward flight. Between the tumble down the stairs and the blood loss, the world was spinning around her. She paused for breath, pulling herself together, determined not to move until she had managed to sort out her own head. She didn’t know how long she remained that way, but finally she got to her feet. Her head was aching terribly, and for a moment she forgot why she was there or what was so important that she was throwing herself headlong into the exact sort of trouble that Arren would have been ever so cross with her for getting into.

  Then the pain in her shoulder stabbed her into recollection of how she had gotten there and precisely why. She remembered the noble dug that had tried to avenge her and been slain for its trouble, and that the creature that had slain her had fled here like a rat. The recollection galvanized her and focused her once more.

  By that point her eyes had adjusted quickly to the darkness. She saw a series of stairways and gratings around her, and was also aware of a distant heat from below. She found it soothing, even comforting. She liked heat. It made her want to stretch out and enjoy it, but she knew now was not the time. Furthermore she needed to proceed with caution lest she run headlong into some manner of trap. These creatures were unquestionably tricky, and possessed weapons—or at least a weapon—that was outside her familiarity and beyond her understanding.

  The metal of the stairs rattled under her as she made her way down them. This caused Norda to come to a halt. She was concerned that the noise she was making would easily alert the creature that she was on her way down. He might be lying in wait there, prepared to throw more invisible spears at her. Instead she leaped onto one of the railings and clambered down it, wrapping her hands and feet around it and keeping a sure and steady grasp upon it. At one point she nearly slipped and she steadied herself using her tail for an additional grip.

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and there was another, and still another after that. There were also other gantries and catwalks, leading off in a myriad of directions, accompanied by what she took to be signs that indicated which way was which. But she had no means of reading the signs, nor did she especially care about any possible detours because she was busy following the scent of the creature she was hunting: the creature who had killed the dug.

  The stairway came to an end and there was still no sign of her prey. She looked around and then up and then dropped to all fours again, sniffing the ground. Momentarily woozy, Norda forced her attention back to the situation at hand and then scuttled forward, back on the scent. She found a metal grating inset into the floor and it was dislodged, indicating to her that someone had just passed through it and hadn’t taken the time to restore it properly to its place. It wasn’t as if she required the visual cue, but it was still a reassurance that she was on the right track. She yanked clear the grating, sen
ding it clattering away, and dropped through.

  She landed on yet another surface and looked around, trying to get her bearings. The walls around her were flat and tiled and had lettering that read “GRAND CENTRAL TERMINAL” across them. Unable to read them, the words meant nothing to Norda. The ground beneath her feet had some manner of tracks running down it going in either direction. There were fixtures overhead where lights had once gone, but they were dark. Everything was dark. Fortunately the night vision of Mandraques was extraordinary and Norda was able to see everything quite clearly.

  There was high-pitched squealing and scuttling around her feet. Rats. She snatched one up in either hand, bit the heads off so they would stop squirming, and shoved them down her throat. She hoped that the sustenance would counter the increasing sensation of lightheadedness that she was battling.

  Then she heard something down the tunnel and, more importantly, saw it as well. There was a small spot of light that was bouncing up and down. She had never seen anything like it, but Norda was able to intuit almost instantly that it was some manner of torch. Smaller than she had ever seen, but nevertheless effective.

  And the creature was doubtless holding it.

  Yes. Yes, she could hear him. She could hear him running, and huffing and puffing, and he was obviously scared.

  She realized she was pleased about that.

  She sprinted after him, and he must have realized that she was behind him because he let out a startled yelp. Then something flashed up ahead of her, something other than the torch, and she had barely enough time to realize that it was that same black club that he had been waving at her earlier. Norda threw herself down upon the tracks and heard the invisible spear whiz over her head. The thunder came again, and repeated itself several more times. But there was no more pain inflicted upon her. The invisible spears were coming nowhere near her, and that was when Norda realized that the creature had to see her clearly in order to hurl the spear accurately. It would not find her of its own accord; its dissimilarity from standard weaponry ended with the fact that it could not be seen.

  Then she heard a brand new noise. It was a faint empty “click” sound, followed by the boy shouting something that she thought might be a profanity.

  Not spears. Not spears at all. Arrows. It throws invisible arrows, and the quiver is empty.

  With a roar designed to freeze the creature where he stood, Norda leaped to her feet and sprinted in the darkness. She could see the creature, but he could not see her. He knew she was coming, though, and he ran desperately, frantically, as Norda closed the gap with distance-eating leaps.

  The creature yanked open a door inset into the wall and ran through it. He tried to slam it behind him, but Norda had gotten there too quickly. She caught the door and her mouth opened wide as she roared her fury, and the creature screamed. Suddenly there was a knife in his hand, and Norda may not have understood everything that the invisible arrows entailed, but she comprehended knives readily enough. She slapped it out of his hand, sending it flying into the darkness, and leaped upon him. He went down under her, falling backwards, and there was another flight of stairs. This time Norda leaped clear, though, and the creature tried to grab at a support but missed. He fell down the stairs, much as Norda had, but whereas she had fallen silently, the creature yelped and howled and cried out every single bump and thud of the way.

  How easily these creatures are hurt, thought Norda, even as she gripped the railings and slid down them with confidence.

  The creature was lying there at the bottom of the metal stairs. The air was thick with heat and steam, which Norda was enjoying more and more with each passing moment. The creature, however, didn’t appear to be enjoying it at all. His face was covered with beaded water and his mouth was twisted in what seemed a grimace of pain. She noticed that his right leg was bent at an odd shape; then again, she couldn’t be certain just how flexible this species was. Perhaps it wasn’t so odd after all.

  Then she saw him looking in horror at the leg and crying out, and she realized that, no, that wasn’t a proper direction for it.

  It was as if he didn’t know where to look first: at the leg or at her.

  New wetness began to appear on his face, dribbling down from his eyes. His lower lip was trembling and from the darkness he glowered at her. His torch, a single beam of light, was lying several feet away. He must have dropped it when he had tumbled down the stairs.

  He seemed so young. Lying there helpless, distressed, without his unseen arrows to inflict destruction and death, he appeared to her as nothing more than a terrified child.

  Then she remembered that she was going to kill him.

  “I’m going to kill you,” she said, except it didn’t sound particularly vengeful or threatening when she said it aloud. Instead she sounded almost apologetic about it, as if she felt badly that she was going to ruin his day.

  His chin seemed to stiffen and he tilted it back as if daring her to strike it. “If you’re gonna do it, monster…then do it.” His voice was quavering as he spoke but he was clearly trying to muster reserves of bravery.

  Still, Norda was taken aback by his word choice. “I’m not a monster,” she said, sounding more defensive than she had intended. “You’re the monster. You killed dug.”

  He wiped the wetness away from his eyes. “Who’s Doug?”

  “The dug. The one in my home.”

  “The…dog? The one who was attacking me?”

  “Yes! You killed him!”

  “Because he was attacking me! I didn’t want him to tear my throat out!”

  “And you tried to kill me!”

  “Because you were attacking me! And how the hell are you speaking English?”

  “I don’t know what ‘English’ is. You’re speaking Firedraque. And I was attacking you,” she said angrily, “because you were in my home!”

  “That wasn’t a home! That was a church! And if we’re going to get into people being in other people’s home, then let’s remember that this was our damned planet before you freak shows got here!”

  “It’s called the Damned World,” said Norda archly, “which shows how much you know.”

  “It’s called Earth, which is how much you know.”

  Her eyes narrowed in anger. She could not say that she appreciated the way he was talking to her, not one bit. The problem would easily be solved if she simply ripped his vocal cords from his throat. She drew back her claws and prepared to do just that. Sensing what she was about to do, the boy closed his eyes tightly and braced himself.

  The clawed hand froze in midair as she fully processed what he had just said.

  “Your world?”

  “Yeah! My world! Which you and the other monsters took over!”

  “I didn’t take anything over,” said Norda. “I was hatched here.”

  “I was born here, too,” he said defiantly. “Except your kind runs around up there, and me and my family and the others, we’re—”

  Suddenly he seemed to realize that he was saying things he shouldn’t have said. He clamped his mouth shut for a moment to regroup and then said firmly, “So kill me, already, bitch. Just do it.”

  “Are you a Mort?”

  “A what?”

  “A Mort.”

  “My name’s not Mort! I’m a human being! A goddamned human being! The people that you and yours tried to hunt into extinction!”

  “I’ve never hunted any…” She paused and tried to handle the unfamiliar words. “Hooman beans. I’ve never hunted any of your kind. Or any kind.”

  “Yeah? Then what are you doing down here?”

  “I was hunting you. Oh.” She shrugged. “Well…you are my first.” She smiled brightly. “Aren’t you excited for me?”

  He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment. “Are you stupid?”

  “I am Norda.”

  “I don’t care! I don’t care what you are or who you are! Stop screwing around and just do it! Just goddamn kill me already!” He tried to si
t up as if he were about to lunge at her and then he screamed so loudly that she had to cover her ear holes to ward it off. He fell back, clutching at his leg and sobbing openly this time. “Dammit! Goddamnit!”

  “You have a god?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t know. I just…wonder if you do. And if your god is the same as mine. And if it is, then maybe we should not be killing each other.”

  He stared at her, bleary eyed. “You are so weird…” he said with a tone of wonderment. He looked as if he wanted to say something else. His voice suddenly trailed off, and then his head slumped back as his eyes rolled up into the top of his head.

  “Hooman?”

  He said nothing.

  “Hooman Bean?”

  This time when he did not reply, she poked at him experimentally to see if it generated any response. None was forthcoming. “Hooman Bean!” she said more insistently, this time poking him so hard that she might well have left a bruise. When she wasn’t able to prompt any further movement from him, her fractured mind raced, trying to determine what she should do. She ran through the options in her head.

  She could kill him.

  She could eat him.

  She could kill him, then eat him. Or she could kill him and bring him back home to be supplies.

  Or she could just leave him lying there and hope that others like him found him.

  Or she could bring him to others like him.

  Of all the possibilities that filtered through her mind, that last was the one that she considered the most intriguing.

  She had not forgotten that, until very recently, she had been driven by an overwhelming desire to slay this creature, this Hooman Bean. But Norda’s nature made her unable to cling to such ideas for terribly long. She remembered the “why” of what she had wanted to do, but minutes had passed—minutes that, for Norda, were like unto an eternity—and the fury that had driven her had already dissipated. She was a being entirely of the moment, and for the moment, she saw only a poor, injured creature, and she felt some degree of pity for him for reasons she could not fathom.