Atalanta and the Arcadian Beast

by Jane Yolen

  As the day wore on, the rain grew heavier, until by afternoon they were surrounded by a cold, dank haze. Atalanta realized that it would be hard enough to find one another in this weather, let alone an elusive and deadly animal.

  Orion’s voice sounded through the trees, calling the hunting party together, and slowly they gathered in a small clearing, damp and disheartened.

  A flash of lightning ripped across the sky, followed by a long, slow rumble of thunder.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” said Orion. “We’d best find shelter and resume when the rain eases off.”

  “The wet earth will at least show up any fresh tracks after the rain stops,” said Evenor with what sounded like faint hope in his voice.

  “Like these you mean?” Melanion was crouched at the edge of the clearing, poking in the sodden grass with his finger. Orion reached him in two strides and squatted beside him.

  “Some sort of large animal has been here all right,” Orion said. “Though it’s hard to say what.”

  Hierax knelt down and ran his fingers over the grass but offered no guesses.

  Atalanta didn’t look at the tracks. Instead she’d been examining a nearby tree. “Look at these grooves in the bark here,” she called.

  Evenor joined her. “Claw marks.”

  Orion got up and went over to examine the marks through narrowed eyes. “Bear?”

  “Look how big they are, and how high,” Atalanta pointed out.

  Some of the scratches were higher than the top of Orion’s head.

  “An animal’s been sharpening its claws here, a big one,” said Orion. “Could be bear.”

  Hierax and Aricaeus, too, examined the marks. The hunter smiled. “There’s fresh mud smeared on the bark from the pads of its paws.”

  “That means it was just here a short time ago,” said Evenor.

  A sense of imminent danger sent a prickling sensation down the back of Atalanta’s neck. She turned in a slow circle, her spear clenched tight, her ears alert for any sound of movement in the gloom. All she could hear was the rain beating on the foliage and the tense breathing of her companions. All thought of shelter was forgotten now. Each of the hunters held their weapons ready.

  “Do you think it knows we’re here?” Ancaeus asked anxiously, shifting his axe nervously from hand to hand.

  Orion shook his head. “This is an animal, not a fiend. Let’s see if these tracks lead anywhere. And friends, let’s be silent about it.” He held up his hand and motioned them behind him while he scrutinized the ground.

  Step by careful step, he followed the wet tracks, bent over in concentration.

  All of a sudden he stood up and spat to one side. “Pah! The tracks give out after only a short way. All of you, make a tight circle around these tracks and then slowly spread out to check the rest of the clearing.”

  As they began to move into the circle, Orion added, “Stay alert.”

  Atalanta wiped a wet strand of hair from her face and cried out a single word, “Wings!”

  Everyone stopped, turned, looked at her.

  Orion smacked a hand to his head. “Of course! I’m so used to tracking large animals on the ground, I’d forgotten…”

  At that very moment there was a blast of lightning. It lit the clearing and silhouetted a huge winged shape that swooped down out of the storm-torn sky. A hideous roar shook the air as the mantiger crashed into the middle of the hunters, its wings and paws and snaky tail striking out in every direction.

  Caught unawares by the suddenness of the attack, the hunters were sent flying like dice tossed from a cup.

  Atalanta was struck across the face by a slash from the snake tail and went sprawling onto her back. She was saved from further injury by her pack. Even dazed, she had the presence of mind to roll away, out of reach of the beast’s claws. Over and over she rolled until she bumped painfully into a tree, bruising her ribs.

  Another roar rang in her ears, drowning out the cries of her companions. Groggily she forced herself to her feet and looked around for her spear.

  Melanion staggered toward her, a wide gash in his head. Atalanta grabbed him to keep him from falling over.

  “Where’s your spear?” she asked urgently.

  “Lost it,” he croaked, face screwing up in pain.

  “Banged my head on a rock.”

  Atalanta wiped the raindrops from her eyes as another lightning flash illuminated the scene. She saw the monstrous shape of the mantiger crouching over Ancaeus who was sprawled on his back in the grass, eyes wide with panic. He had his axe in his right hand.

  Atalanta tried to move toward the fallen prince, but Melanion was still leaning on her and the added weight made her slip on the wet earth and collapse to her knees.

  By now Ancaeus had pushed himself up on his left elbow and lashed out with his weapon. The blade whooshed through empty air, missing the mantiger completely. Before he could attempt another blow, a massive paw slammed his arm to the ground and pinned it there, the claws going right through the muscle.

  He screamed.

  Hierax rushed out of the gloom, limping, and drove his spear at the creature’s flank, but a wing swept up and batted the weapon out of his hands.

  “Don’t fear, my prince!” Hierax shouted, drawing his knife. Before he could strike, the monster rounded on him, seizing him in its yawning mouth. Still pinning Ancaeus under its paws, the mantiger shook Hierax like a cat with a rat, till his neck cracked. Then the beast flung the lifeless body to the ground.

  It was then that Orion charged, yelling a war cry as he came at the beast with his first spear.

  The mantiger twisted with astonishing speed. Pulling its claws out of Ancaeus’ arm, it grabbed the shaft of Orion’s spear between its teeth. With a jerk of its huge maned head, it tried to rip the weapon out of Orion’s grasp, but the huntsman held on fast. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, his muscles swelling as he tried to lever the spear away. He swatted at the beast with the second spear, for he hadn’t the distance to throw it.

  Scrambling about on her hands and knees, Atalanta groped for her own spear, wondering all the while where Evenor had gone to. Beside her, Melanion was crawling, trying to shake the pain from his injured head.

  The mantiger pushed toward Orion, lashing out at him with its claws, and Orion managed to dodge the blow by less than an inch, losing the second spear in consequence. Then the beast flung back its head and the spear was wrenched from Orion’s hand. He was thrown back, colliding with a boulder.

  The mantiger spat out the spear as though it were a piece of straw and let out an awful roar. Step-by-step it began to advance on Orion, snarling its victory.

  At last Atalanta’s fingers closed around a shaft of a spear, one of Orion’s. She jumped to her feet and threw it. But she wasn’t used to its length or heft, and it struck the beast on the shoulder and glanced off harmlessly.

  Still, for a split second, the mantiger was distracted and that was all the time Orion needed to yank out his long hunting knife. He struck out at the beast with a wide swing of his arm. The blade only cut through its heavy mane as it drew back with a growl.

  Evenor suddenly appeared from behind a bush where he’d been hurled in the initial attack. Blood gushed from a wound in his arm, but he rushed to Orion’s side and for a moment held the mantiger at bay with his spear.

  “Get the prince away!” Orion ordered the others as he scrambled up. Then he and Evenor slashed and jabbed desperately to hold off the ferocious creature that was slowly forcing them back.

  Now Melanion was on his feet and, together with Atalanta, he hurried to his uncle and grabbed him under his arms. Heaving Ancaeus to his feet, they dragged him into the trees. As soon as they did so, the mantiger whirled about, left its pursuit of Evenor and Orion, and bounded after them.

  Atalanta looked back over her shoulder and saw the mantiger getting ready to leap.

  Suddenly from out of the darkness, a wild, shaggy shape threw itself at the mantiger.
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  “Urso!” Atalanta cried. “Don’t! Stop!”

  But he wasn’t hers to command. Bear and mantiger were of a size and they fought viciously, rolling over and over in the wet grass.

  “Go!” Orion shouted at Atalanta and Melanion. “Get the prince away from here.”

  Atalanta hesitated a moment. How could she leave her bear? She felt for her bow and arrows. Miraculously they were not damaged. But in this light, the chances of hitting the bear rather than the mantiger were great. She didn’t know what to do.

  Melanion was dragging his uncle by himself now, and they were nearly into the trees.

  Think, Atalanta, think, she told herself. There was nothing she could do for Urso at the moment. She had to help with Ancaeus. She ran over and grabbed his other arm.

  “More men,” the prince was mumbling to himself as his feet trailed across the ground. “Should have brought more men.”

  “Over that way,” said Melanion. “There are some rocks there. We can barricade ourselves in if necessary.”

  In a few minutes they’d reached a cleft in the rocks with a broad stony overhang extending above. This formed a small shelter at the foot of a crag that soared above them as a sheer wall. They stepped over an enormous fallen tree to get into the cleft.

  Then they laid the prince on the ground and looked out through the gap in the rocks.

  “Listen!” said Melanion. “I think I hear something coming!”

  Atalanta listened. She heard deep breathing and the sound of little rocks scattering away from heavy feet. Setting an arrow to her bow, she crept out till she could see over the tree but not be seen and watched the wet foliage shaking violently. Whatever was coming up those rocks, she was ready to shoot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  NIGHT

  LOWERING HER BOW, ATALANTA gave a sigh of relief. The noisemaker was Orion, with Evenor close on his heels. Both men had grazes and cuts all over their arms and legs. Evenor’s tunic was torn almost in two and blood was trickling down his leg as well as his arm. But somehow both men still had their packs and their weapons.

  “Thank the gods you found us!” Melanion exclaimed.

  “Two of you dragging a wounded, bleeding man,” said Orion as the hunters squeezed through the cleft. “You weren’t difficult to track. Even at dusk and in the rain.” He glanced around. “You did well to find a defensible position.”

  “It was Melanion who found it,” said Atalanta.

  Orion grunted approval. “That overhang will not only shelter us from the rain, but will also keep the mantiger from attacking from above.”

  “And the gap can be easily defended,” Evenor added.

  “What about Urso?” Atalanta asked anxiously. “What happened to him?”

  Orion looked puzzled.

  “The bear,” Evenor explained to Orion, then turned to answer Atalanta. “He was badly scratched and bitten, but when I glanced back, he was running off into the trees and the mantiger didn’t seem to be going after him.”

  “You know this bear?” Orion asked, his eyebrows making mountains of surprise.

  She nodded. “Of course he ran off. He only came to protect me.”

  “And a good thing, too,” said Evenor. “Without his help, I doubt any of us would have escaped.”

  “We need no help from an animal,” said Orion with a scowl as he gathered what little dry tinder was about. He added some larger branches from the fallen tree. Then he made a quick fire, sparking it with an extra spear point against his whetstone.

  When the fire was going, he knelt over Ancaeus, who was curled up into a ball and moaning. Roughly pulling the man’s arms away, he examined the prince’s injuries.

  “You’ll live,” Orion said, “but you’ll be no more use to us on this hunt.”

  He took out his sleeping roll and cut it into strips with his knife. Then he used the strips of cloth to bind up the prince’s more serious wounds and, with what was left, he bandaged Melanion’s head.

  “Perhaps my uncle was right,” said Melanion gloomily. “Maybe we should have brought more men along.”

  “More men, more dead,” Atalanta said.

  Orion stood up and stretched his great muscles. “The girl is right. We would have fallen all over one another in that small space.” He was silent for a moment, then said with brooding determination, “The beast took us by surprise. Tomorrow we’ll surprise it. First thing in the morning we’ll dig a pit, set snares, lay out bait. It won’t find us napping this time.”

  “A pit?” Atalanta couldn’t believe it and shook her head. “A pit won’t be any use against a flying creature.”

  “That thing may have wings,” Orion explained slowly, “but it’s still big and heavy. It takes time and effort to get aloft at that size. You’ve seen its tracks. It walks more than it flies.”

  “But Atalanta has the right of it,” Melanion said, glancing her way. “Even if it falls into the pit, it will fly right out.”

  Evenor understood first. “It won’t have room to stretch its wings.”

  Nodding, Orion added, “And we must make sure it doesn’t live long enough to try.”

  Ancaeus groaned. “Waste of time. That thing can’t be killed by normal means.”

  Atalanta was inclined to agree with him. The one thing that kept bothering her, though, was why the beast had attacked them at all. That hadn’t been its way before. It had killed her father when he threw a spear at it, and maimed Goryx when he’d bumbled into it. But now it had changed its hunting pattern, which was strange indeed. And if it had attacked once, it would do it again. She couldn’t see it waiting for them to dig a pit. The question was—who was it after? And why?

  Ancaeus groaned again. “We’re all dead, I tell you.”

  But Orion had had enough of Ancaeus. “Has the last of your feeble courage ebbed away, Prince?”

  “Courage has nothing to do with it,” Ancaeus said, trying to sit up and failing. “Don’t you understand? This is the will of the gods.”

  There was a long silence in the cave until Atalanta stood and went over to stand next to the fallen prince. “You know why the beast is here, don’t you?”

  Already pale from loss of blood, Ancaeus turned pure white and averted his face from the others. He groaned as if in great pain. “My brother angered the gods. He told me that the beast won’t disappear until it has been bought off with our family’s blood.”

  Only your own blood can save the kingdom now, the words of her dream.

  “I thought the beast seemed to be going for you,” said Evenor.

  “That’s why Hierax was watching over me,” Ancaeus said. “Iasus ordered him to.”

  Orion reached over and pulled the wounded prince to his knees. “It’s time for the whole story, Ancaeus. We’ve been battling half blind. Tell us everything you know.”

  Ancaeus groaned again and closed his eyes. “More than a dozen years ago,” he began, “Queen Clymene fell pregnant. Iasus was overjoyed and awaited the birth of the son who would inherit the kingdom. When instead the child was a girl, he raged against the gods and sent Hierax to put the child out on the mountain, saying, ‘Let the gods save her or let her die. Her fate isn’t in my hands but theirs.’ He told the queen the child had been stillborn and, indeed, that was the story everyone heard, but the gods knew the truth.”

  Hierax! Atalanta thought, her whole body cold. Had he hung the ring around her neck so that if she survived she might one day reclaim what was hers?

  Melanion had been keeping a watch out the front of the cave, but now crept closer. “This isn’t a story I know, Uncle.”

  “It was hardly a tale the king wanted told,” the prince said. “But Clymene wept for so many days, that Iasus’ heart was softened and he sent me along with Hierax to retrieve the child. When we got there, no trace remained of the infant, but there were bear tracks all around the spot. Obviously she’d been killed and dragged off.”

  Now Atalanta felt hot and then cold and then hot again.


  “Uncle, that’s an awful story,” said Melanion. “A girl child abandoned by a distraught father. But—it all happened years ago. What has this to do with what’s going on now?”

  Orion had taken to pacing in the small space. “Yes,” he growled, “what has it to do with the mantiger?”

  Ancaeus sank back against the wall. “What is time to the gods? They laugh at our calculations.”

  “Go on, go on,” Orion said, losing patience with the prince.

  Ancaeus wiped a hand across his mouth before continuing. Then, clearing his throat, he said, “For the next thirteen years, Iasus’ efforts to produce a son came to nothing.”

  “The beast,” Orion snarled. “Tell us of the beast.”

  Ancaeus nodded. “I am getting there. The story is unfolding. Iasus prayed to all the gods, but still Clymene remained barren. Then one day a stranger arrived at the palace, a traveler from Phoenicia in the East, an oily and disreputable creature I thought, but Iasus was taken by him. The man said he was a priest of the dread Astarte, a goddess of fertility and childbirth. He told Iasus that if he built a shrine…”

  “Arrrrrr!” Orion bent, picked up a small rock, and hurled it angrily at the wall. “I have seen this shrine. And the ruined statue of Astarte.”

  “It was Artemis who smashed it,” Atalanta said, the words seeming to come out of her mouth on their own.

  They all turned to her, staring.

  “How do you know that?” Melanion asked.

  “I…I dreamed it,” she said.

  “Dreams—pah!” Orion spit to one side.

  “But my brother had a dream, too,” Ancaeus said. “Artemis came to him and told him that because he had worshiped a foreign god, the whole kingdom would be punished. She said only his blood…”

  “…could save the kingdom,” Atalanta finished for him. She leaned toward him. “That was in my dream, too.”

  “But what does it mean?” Melanion asked.

  “Iasus thought the dream was quite clear,” Ancaeus told them. He was sweating now, for the fire had quite warmed up the cave. “He said it meant that only one of his kin can kill the beast. So he sent me to do it, having no closer blood relative. But I have feared all along that Artemis really meant that the beast can only be destroyed once Iasus and all his blood are slain.”