Bhyr

by Penelope Fletcher

  What I really wanted was coconut oil to deal with the dry skin developing from the severe conditions. There was dust in my hair. I bent over to give it a rigorous shake then redid my simple braid. ‘Water, more fruit, leaves, roots….’ I muttered to myself as I wrapped and tied myself into the pink and white ensemble that acted as camouflage in the harshness of Vøtkyr’s landscape. I remembered Bhyr crafting it for me with painstaking care. It gave me a much needed mental boost.

  I was loved, I was missed, and I wasn’t alone despite my present circumstances.

  ‘Avoid tuskbeast spoor…cross frozen water slowly….’

  I repeated my list as a mantra and left the shelter at a brisk walk. The pace helped keep my mind off my mate.

  I’d never needed someone before, never cared enough to miss a romantic partner the way I missed Bhyr. I missed his citrus and spice scent. I missed the throaty clicks that reminded me he was close, and his raspy, buzzing laughter. I missed how his eyes narrowed as he smiled, and his mouth widened without curving. I missed his weird, morbid sense of humour.

  I just plain missed him.

  It wasn’t long before the sensation of being hunted returned. A laughing whoop sent chills across my scalp. I stooped, shuffling to the mound of earth the sound drifted over.

  The pitch of the scrubby hill changed to a climb, getting steeper until I scrabbled up a slope a few degrees shy of a cliff face. I scuttled back. The drop beyond ended in a ravine.

  Dots scurried around a larger smudge below. A pack of yowling creatures hunted a tuskbeast. They nipped at its legs, then dived for its throat when it stumbled, taking it down with a thump I felt as a tremor through the ground.

  They swarmed their kill and ripped into it with savage claws and fangs.

  Swallowing, I inched back.

  The hairs on my arms and nape stood on end under my clothes. If I stumbled across that pack, I was a goner.

  The dangers of my situation were suddenly all I could think about. Once I’d frightened myself half to death with a dozen gruesome imaginings, I skated down the hill and started back towards my cave.

  I wanted safety more than anything else at that moment.

  The rustle of a bush and light crunching of snow pulled me to a standstill. I turned my head slowly, slightly, and spotted one of the creatures from below. It sniffed at the ground then raised its head and growled. It was the size of a coyote, only stockier with long, thick hind legs for pouncing and tawny scales.

  It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t terrifying.

  ‘Bhyr, if you’re going to rescue me now is the time.’

  Alas, he failed to appear.

  Head cocking, its shiny eyes blinked. Feathered ears rotated back and forth. They reminded me of a curious wolf pup debating whether to be naughty or nice.

  Moving fast, too scared to go slow and avoid startling the beastie, I dropped into a squat and pulled out my knife.

  It lowered into a hunting crouch, tail high and stiff. Its growls intensified into a snarl that exposed needle thin fangs.

  ‘Um, nice beastie?’

  It lunged for me, jaws gaping wide like a crocodile.

  39

  Indira

  I dove into a snowdrift and landed on my arm.

  I grunted, the air knocked from my lungs.

  Something barred the way.

  Wriggling around in my pocket of air, I scraped away the icy slush. Tangled tree roots shoved through the frozen soil blocking my escape. I jerked backwards as a drooling maw punched through the snow and snapped shut an inch from my face. I flailed the knife and caught it across its snot-smeared nose.

  The creature recoiled, its paw batting the bleeding gash.

  Shoving the blade between my teeth, I dug through the packed snow, following the rough bark of the roots.

  Go away, go away.

  I lashed out a foot to the side to collapse the tunnel behind me, hoping to scare it off.

  Lacking the intelligence to think strategically and cut me off on the other side, the beastie burrowed in my wake. Its disembodied mouth chomped at the air, eager to steal a bite.

  I broke free of the snowdrift into daylight and scrambled away on all fours.

  The crackle of claws on brittle ice warned me as the beast climbed out behind me. It gathered itself to pounce. The moment it left the ground, teeth glinting, paws outstretched to rend my flesh to ribbons, I squealed.

  I rolled onto my back, hitched both feet to my chest, then popped them straight, kicking it dead centre in its chest. I felt the give of bone through the soles of my boots.

  It landed on its side with a pained yelp. It rolled onto its front and thrashed backwards, trembling and whining.

  I lurched into a squat, taking the knife from between my teeth to brandish it threateningly. ‘Yah! Yah!’ I opened my arms and stomped my foot. That about covered everything I’d seen on television to scare a wild animal.

  It flinched but held its ground, vicious snarls rumbling from its muzzle.

  Remembering how blood made everything slippery, I adjusted my hold on my weapon. ‘Don’t make me do this.’ Choppy breaths sawed at my airway. ‘Just go away.’

  It threw back its head and howled to summon its pack.

  I skidded in and lodged my knife into its leathery jugular. The haunting sound died. It weakly swiped a paw at my middle, but missed, rolling eyeballs glassy with pain. I dragged the blade across its throat, cringing when it sank deeper into giving flesh before ripping free. Viscous blood drenched my mitten and saturated the ground. The musky smell of wild animal and metallic blood combined until I swallowed to wash away the stench polluting my mouth.

  It tripped over its feet, scrambled, and then keeled over, paws twitching. The rounded bulge of its abdomen heaved as it laboured to breathe, bubbles popping at the yawning wound across its throat. It suffered. I’d nicked instead of severed a main artery.

  It took too long to die.

  I wasn’t a hunter. I was a scared woman with a knife.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Its eyes dimmed.

  Panting, I kept my knife clutched in my mitten and minced closer. I prodded it with the rounded toe of my boot. Very dead. I frowned, bending over double to get a better look.

  Bloody and limp, it seemed familiar.

  I sheathed my knife. I removed my sodden mittens and tucked them into my belt for washing later, and then turned with a sad sigh.

  ‘Oh, come on.’ I hissed.

  Standing thirty feet from me was a mammoth-sized tuskbeast. I swore, recalling where I’d seen the coyote creature before. It had lain mangled in the maw of the last tuskbeast I’d stumbled onto.

  While I struggled to beat back a surge of aggravation, it cocked its antlered head.

  I risked a toe to heel step.

  Breathing wet and heavy through its muzzle, it snuffled after the blood-scent wafting off my kill and chuffed.

  I took another step backwards–careful to make no sudden movements and avoid eye contact–which took me past the creature corpse.

  The tuskbeast grumbled, hoof pawing the ground.

  ‘It’s all yours.’ I spun on my heel, spraying snow.

  Adrenaline lent me the grace of a goat as I clambered up onto the closest boulders on the rise, careful not to fling myself too far and avoid falling off the edge.

  The thunder of hooves reached the ground I’d stood on moments before.

  I climbed faster, then flattened and clung to the gritty surface like a spider as a head on collision rattled the world.

  The tuskbeast bellowed its victory then trotted off to enjoy its stolen meal.

  Breaking out into giggles, I shook my head at my antics.

  To think, I’d needed a big strong alien to rescue me last time. ‘I don’t need no man.’

  Beneath me, the boulder shuddered. I dropped the laughter. ‘Shit.’ I stretched my legs to shift my weight, but it was too late. I fell. It went from bright to black in an instant, as if I blinked and forg
ot to open my eyes. The muscles in my throat seized. I couldn’t even scream. I flung out my arms, and my grasping fingers scraped against seamless rock.

  My palm slid against something gangly like a vine, and my hand snapped closed.

  I jerked to a stop.

  The weight of my body hung off the one arm and pain exploded in my shoulder.

  My other hand latched onto my “rope” as the boulder shattered at the bottom.

  It sent a whoosh of stale air whistling past my face.

  ‘You’re fine. It’s fine.’

  The vine I’d grabbed snarl-hissed in my ear. Spittle splattered my face, the smooth surface I held writhing like maggots beneath my palms.

  I squawked and let go.

  I had no time to scream before I hit the floor.

  My body crumpled.

  The back of my head smacked against something, and I lay propped against the wall, dizzy and breathless, struggling to suck air into locked lungs. My heart pounded so hard, it hurt. I groaned. It felt as if my joints had popped from their sockets. The shock of the fall faded, and I gasped a full breath, blinking frightened tears. I couldn’t feel below my waist. My pulse skittered, and my eyeballs wheeled looking for help that wouldn’t come.

  Sensation returned to my legs with a prickling ache that started at my toes then radiated across my hips. My feet jerked then scraped across grit as I straightened them. Next came my arms. I curled into a seated position, easing my neck straight from its bent angle. I shook. Nothing felt broken. I shook, and shook, my mind replaying the fall. Each inch of my skin would be bruised, but I was alive. It was a miracle that had a sob ripping past my teeth.

  Gathering my scattered wits, I took the time to check myself over, running my hands over my limbs. I tried to stand and the floor slanted.

  I clung to the wall.

  My stomach flipped.

  Feeling a violent surge rush up my throat, I doubled over in time to be noisily sick on the ground instead of my front. I fumbled for my waterskin. I swilled a mouthful of water over my tongue and gums, spat, then wiped my mouth, shuffling several steps in the opposite direction of my vomit.

  My shaking eased, yet the sensation of the floor pitching and heaving under me didn’t abate. It was pitch black and I couldn’t see. I wasn’t sure if that helped. I felt better when I scrunched my eyes closed and focused on my breathing, but staggering around in the dark wasn’t an option.

  An indeterminate amount time passed, and I fished around in my pouch for the last hot rock. It was no bigger than a marble. I knocked it against the wall. I extended my arm above my head and turned a slow circle, waving the light.

  A mountain crevice.

  Well, double shit.

  The hot rock grew scorching. I slipped on a blood-soaked mitten as a buffer between my ravaged skin and its heat. I studied the wall behind me. It was craggy enough there would be foot and hand holds to climb back out. What worried me was there was no light coming from above. It suggested the boulders had shifted together and closed off the hole I’d fallen through. I also thought of the hissing vine.

  Where there was one, there might be more.

  I cringed, and dropped my head to look around my immediate surroundings.

  The floor carried on several yards, and then sheared off.

  I pushed out a palm and slid a foot forward. I wobbled. I crept forward until my toe landed over the edge. ‘Easy, easy.’ I swayed like a drunk at the precipice. My depth perception was off. I backed up and knelt, bringing the hot rock forward.

  The true bottom of the crevice was a couple of meters down. Better yet, the light kissed the rounded edges of a fissure in the far wall.

  Water gargled.

  An underground river could lead outside.

  ‘Okay.’ I had one option. ‘Down into the deep we go.’

  I rolled the hot rock in dust then tucked it back into my pouch, praying it didn’t set me on fire. I clumsily swung my legs over the ledge. Gravity did most of the work. I stretched my arms as far as they would go. I dropped the last foot.

  ‘Ha.’ I landed on my feet, crouched, but stumbled to the side as my head swam. ‘Ugh.’ I took out the hot rock and trudged on until I reached the crack. It was thin and short.

  Eyeing its awkward dimensions, I ducked, but my butt stuck out. I did a front leg split, sucked in my belly and wriggled to get through it.

  Had my head not been splitting in two, it would have been easy. As it was, it felt like I performed a gymnastic extravaganza at the Olympics.

  The fissure wasn’t what I expected. I knelt inside a cramped pocket of rock. I could hear the water, except the sound came from beyond a very small and dark tunnel.

  When I was calm, safe, and in an environment I knew well, my claustrophobia was mild. I was stressed, hurt, and surrounded by danger. I did not want to go inside that hole.

  Get it over with.

  I gritted my teeth and crawled through, feeing my guts shrivel. I pushed the hot rock ahead of me to light the way, using it as a focus point. A cobweb dragged over my nose and cheek. I imagined a tarantula skittering over my face. Screeching, my arms jerked towards my face as I tried to stand. I hit my head–again. Thinking I’d just go backwards, frantic, I ended up wedging myself awkwardly and unable to move. I slapped at the walls, trapped on all sides. The darkness crushed me beneath its weight. ‘It’s not real. It’s not real.’ I stopped and my limbs turned to noodles. The air felt as thick as cement. I lay there hyperventilating and watching the walls close around me.

  Ringing filled my ears and heat crawled along the edges of my jaw followed by a strange tingle. I fainted. Teeth chattering brought me around.

  It’s so cold.

  Solid rock sticky with mildew entombed me. I started moving again, flailing and flopping along the ground as my limbs refused to support me. The opening widened. I crawled the last few feet then collapsed into a snotty, shivery puddle. It took me a long time to stop crying.

  Seriously.

  Fuck that tunnel.

  Out on the other side, the air was fresher, and there was indeed water. A knee-deep stream ran along a culvert and widened into a lake before thinning again into a larger river. I sat on the bank, groaning like an old woman, and peered into the water.

  It was clear. The silty bottom speckled with pebbles and shiny flecks of metal.

  I scooped up a handful and sniffed it. A faint trace of minerals teased my nose. I took a sip and followed it with a larger one to quench the thirst that snuck up on me.

  I filled my bladder to the brim, then splashed the water on my dirty face. The chill wetness helped clear my head from stuffed to a bit foggy.

  Perkier, I looked around.

  The water reflected the soft illumination and bounced it around. Bioluminescent mushrooms sprouted from the walls. Their glow revealed the ceiling, and highlighted the silhouettes of its dark-dwelling denizens that hung over the underground lake. They resembled albino bats, only with longer ears, and feathered wings attached to serpentine bodies. Their thousands of glaring eyes closed at my attention. They bunched together, retreating into the darker shadows in a rustling wave. They shat. The guano dripped into the lake.

  I felt less happy about drinking the water.

  Stalagmites twice my height gave the impression I sat in a stone jungle, while the smaller formations grew no higher than my ankle in some places, a deadly lawn of sharp-edged spikes. The stream must have been much larger at some point, because the cavern was colossal. It narrowed some distance away.

  Sighing, I lay down, too sore and dispirited to carry on. I napped on the bank, soothed by the rushing sound of water.

  I had a concussion.

  Someone should have checked on me ever so often to make sure I was fine.

  Once again, I thought how being alone truly sucked.

  I dreamed of Bhyr.

  40

  Bhyr

  Bhyr understood bureaucracy. Every leader had to suffer the numbing boredom of it.
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  He would never, however, understand the mindset of the Godai and their insistence on detailing the particulars of every registered member and every submitted complaint.

  ‘Defendant for Enquiry 1228937150552 has confirmed his identity.’ The monotone voice of the Premier grated on his nerves. If the alien did not possess the ability to reach through spacetime and turn his brain to mush in his skull, Bhyr would have cut the transmission spans ago. ‘It is our understanding Unregistered Planet 2276549 was noted as vulnerable and added to the Protected List in Resolved Enquiry 122390654756, Petitioner, She, Lumen of the Stars, human Ambassador of the Registered Planet formerly known to its inhabitants as Rä, and a native of the Unregistered Protected Planet 2276549, informally known to its inhabitants as Earth.’

  ‘Was that a question?’ Bhyr asked in all seriousness.

  ‘Negative. A statement of fact to establish a chain of events for this council to deliberate.’ The Premier gurgled. ‘Defendant Hel Bhyr, First of the Azteka Horde and leader of Registered Planet Vøtkyr, we will list charges and you will plead guilty or not guilty to these accusations brought against you by the Verak of Registered Planet Vayhalun and the Rä of Registered Planet Rök. Do you understand?’

  ‘I do,’ Bhyr replied.

  ‘The complaint states the Registered Species known as Azteka invaded Category One Protected Planet 2276549.’ The Premier paused. ‘Is this correct?’

  Bhyr rubbed his skull ridges. ‘Yes.’

  ‘How do you plead?’

  ‘Guilty.’

  The Premier made an ominous chirring sound. ‘Acknowledged. The complaint states the Registered Species known as Azteka poached a primitive yet Sentient indigenous species of Category One Protected Planet 2276549 informally known as humans. Is this correct?’

  Shame washed over him. He hated this–all his mistakes laid bare for the universe to judge and condemn. ‘It is.’

  ‘How do you plead?’

  ‘Guilty.’ There was no point in lying. Admitting he was at fault was the beginning of putting things right.