by Simon Hawke
As the thrax crouched across the fire from her, its long, sucker-tipped fingers extended and waggling obscenely, the puckered mouth of the vile creature twitched with thirst. Ryana knew that there was only once chance to escape death, or a fate even worse than death, and that was to strike a mortal blow while the thrax was still solidified. Her crossbow was out of reach, on the other side of the fire. Her sword was still in its leather scabbard, beside the rucksack where she had left it. She had only her knives. Moving quickly, she reached down and drew one of the blades from the top of her high moccasin and, in one smooth motion, hurled it at the creature. The thrax immediately shifted into shadow form and the blade passed through it harmlessly, striking one of the thick trunks of the pagafa tree, where it stuck. The vile shadow solidified once more as the thrax crouched, preparing to leap.
Without taking her eyes off the creature, Ryana quickly reached down and drew her other boot knife. She held the long stiletto blade out before her and crouched slightly, feet spread wide apart. The thrax saw the second blade and hesitated. In that instant of momentary hesitation, Ryana reached out with the power of her mind, and, with psionic force, flung the burning branches in the fire directly at the thrax’s face. Instinctively, the thrax recoiled and raised its hands, and Ryana lunged toward the creature. But the beast recovered quickly, much more quickly than she had anticipated, and as she stabbed out with her blade, it passed through shadow.
The shadow leapt back, away from her, and the thrax solidified once more, more wary this time, circling and watching her intently. It feinted toward her once or twice, attempting to bait her into throwing the knife, but Ryana already knew that would not work. Instead, she drew another knife, the large, wide-bladed one in the sheath fastened to her belt. These blades were the only weapons she had left—along with her psionic power and her ingenuity. The thrax knew now that she was not an easy victim, a solitary woman who would fall prey to her own fear. But the creature was thirsty, and she was the only drink for miles around.
They circled warily, neither committing to an attack. The thrax tried to bait her into throwing one of her weapons, but she resisted the temptation. She, meanwhile, remained alert for any opportunity to strike, but each time she made a move toward the deadly creature, it shifted into shadow once again and faded back, attempting to lose itself in the other shadows and come around behind her. Ryana could not allow her vigilance to relax even for an instant. That instant would be fatal.
She knew she could not keep it up. Sooner or later, the thrax would fool her and slither around in shadow form behind her, or else its thirst would drive it into a direct frontal attack, in shadow form, enveloping her and passing through her, wrapping its shadowy appendages around her, and then solidifying into death.
Even as she thought of it, the thrax shifted into shadow and leapt toward her. Instead of recoiling, as it had expected, Ryana lunged to meet it, passing through the creature in its shadow state before it could solidify its grasp around her. She fought the gorge rising in her throat as she forced her way through the shadow, feeling its foul chill permeate her. Once beyond it, she turned to face the thrax again as it solidified, too late to trap her, but ready for another try. How long could she keep this up? Time favored the thrax. She was tired, and the creature knew it. One slip, one misstep, and it would be all over.
Their positions now were almost identical to what they were when the thrax had first attacked. The crossbow was still out of her reach, as was the sword, and she could spare no time to grab for them.
But she was villichi, schooled in the Way, and it was only that, if anything, that gave her the advantage. As she watched the thrax, not taking her gaze from it for a second, she reached out with the power of her mind, focusing upon the knife she had thrown earlier, now embedded in the pagafa tree. Slowly, it began to pull free behind the thrax. As she felt it coming loose, she kept her focus on the knife, and at the same time threw one of the other blades she held. The thrax quickly shifted into shadow form and the blade passed through it harmlessly. As it solidified again, Ryana quickly threw her second knife, purely by reflex, all the while keeping her psionic focus on the knife that she was working free from the pagafa trunk.
The thrax shifted into shadow form once more, and the second knife passed through it, and now, seeing her weaponless, the creature solidified once more, ready to leap. Behind it, the knife in the pagafa tree pulled free, pivoted around its axis, and flew forward, directed by psionic force, squarely into the creature’s back, between its shoulder blades.
The thrax howled and shifted into shadow once again. The blade that had stuck in its back dropped to the ground, but in that instant, Ryana threw her focus to her sword, lying at the foot of the pagafa tree, beside her rucksack. The iron blade leapt from its scabbard and flew across the fire hilt-first, directly into Ryana’s outstretched hand.
As the thrax solidified and leapt, Ryana quickly sidestepped and brought her sword down in a sweeping arc, decapitating the creature with one blow. It fell to the ground, dark blood bubbling up out of its neck, and its severed head rolled toward the fire. The long and oily hair burst into flame, and the odor of charred flesh assailed Ryana’s nostrils. She backed away and retched.
Suddenly, she felt that tingling sensation at the back of her neck again and spun around, her sword held ready before her. The Ranger stood there, watching her with a dispassionate gaze. She sighed with enormous relief and, exhausted, lowered her sword.
The Ranger stepped forward and looked down at the decapitated corpse of the creature, its blood staining the sand. “Thrax,” he said simply. Then he looked at her and nodded with approval. Without another word, he went over to the fire, where the thrax’s head was burning, its charred flesh sending out a nauseating odor as it was consumed. The Ranger tossed on some more wood. He sat down, cross-legged, on the ground, lowered his head onto his chest, and slept. A moment later, the head came up again and Sorak gazed at her.
“You seem to have had a busy night,” he said. “You can sleep now, if you like. I will keep watch until dawn.”
“When did you come back?” she asked, still breathing heavily from her exertions.
“I only awoke just this moment,” Sorak said.
“I meant the Ranger,” she said.
“Ah. One moment, I will ask him.” His face took on a distant, preoccupied expression for a moment, then his attention focused on her once again. “It seems he arrived a few moments before you killed the thrax,” he said.
“And it did not occur to him to help?” she asked with astonishment.
“You seemed to have the situation well in hand,” said Sorak. “He did not wish to interfere with your kill.”
“With my kill?” she said, with disbelief. “I was fighting for my life!”
“Successfully, it would appear,” said Sorak, with a glance toward the thrax’s headless body.
“Damn you, Sorak! You could have helped me!”
“Ryana,” he said apologetically, “forgive me, but I slept through the whole thing.”
Her shoulders slumped as she sighed and tossed her sword down on the ground beside him. “Right,” she said, with a grimace. “Of course.”
“You are angry with me.”
“No,” she said, with resignation, “but I would certainly like to give the Ranger a piece of my mind!”
“Go ahead, if it will make you feel better,” Sorak said. “He will hear you.”
She sank down to the ground beside him. “Oh, what’s the point?” she said. “Doubtless, it would only puzzle him.”
“I fear that’s true,” said Sorak. “But still, if it would help…”
“Just go and get my knives,” she said, curling up on the ground and wrapping her cloak around her. “I’m tired, and all I want to do is sleep.”
She pillowed her head upon her rucksack and closed her eyes. She could not remember when she had ever felt so thoroughly exhausted. The next thing she knew, it was dawn.
Chapt
er Three
With Sorak keeping watch, the rest of the night passed uneventfully, and Ryana awoke shortly after sunrise, feeling more rested but still tired and sore. When she opened her eyes and sat up, she saw that the body of the thrax was gone, and for a moment, the alarming thought occurred to her that one of Sorak’s more carnivorous personalities had eaten it.
“I dragged it off into those scrub bushes over there last night,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I did not think it would be a very pleasant sight for you to see first thing in the morning. The scavenger beetles were already at it.”
She sighed inwardly with relief.
“You cried out in your sleep last night,” he said.
She nodded, repressing a shudder. “I dreamt about the thrax. It was not a very pleasant dream.”
“Understandable, considering the circumstances,” Sorak said. “Still, how many people can boast of vanquishing a thrax single-handedly? You acquitted yourself well, little sister. Tamura would be proud of you.”
She thought of their weapons training instructor back at the convent and was grateful now that Tamura had been such a relentless taskmaster. Ryana had cursed her on more than one occasion. Now, she blessed her. If not for Tamura’s training, it would have been her corpse that would now be lying in the bushes.
“We still have a long way to go,” said Sorak, gathering his things. He looked remarkably fresh, and Ryana envied him not only his amazing elfling powers of endurance, but also his ability to duck under and sleep while one of his other personalities took control of his body. She would not wish to trade places with him, but she was forced to admit that there were certain unique advantages to his condition.
“How far do you think we have come?” she asked him.
“I would estimate a little more than halfway to the spring,” he said. “The thrax would not have wandered very far from the trail. They like to stay within striking distance of the caravan routes and keep watch for vulnerable stragglers. I think that we should reach the trail before midday. The traveling should be easier after that.”
“Well, I’m all for that,” she said, gathering her belongings.
“I retrieved your knives last night, as you requested,” said Sorak, with a smile, recalling her curt command to him to get her knives. He handed her the blades.
“Thank you.”
“I had to do some searching to find this one,” he said, as he gave her back one of the stilettos. “I was surprised to see how far it flew. You have a strong arm.”
“Fear induces strength,” she said wryly.
“Were you afraid?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
“But you did not let your fear paralyze you,” he replied. “That is good. You have learned well. Few things can be more frightening than a thrax.”
“Well, whatever those few things are, I can do without meeting them,” she said.
They shouldered their packs and headed east, toward the rising sun, moving at a steady, yet comfortable pace. Ryana was in excellent physical condition, yet still her legs felt sore from walking all the previous day. The fight with the thrax had taken a lot out of her, as well. She felt the effects not only of the previous night’s exertions, but of the stress, too. She noticed Sorak slowing his pace slightly, so as not to make her work to keep up. I’m slowing him down, she thought. He could easily make twice the time or more by running. Yet he knew that if he did so, she would never be able to keep pace with him.
“I am sorry that I cannot move faster,” she said, feeling woefully inadequate.
“There is no hurry,” Sorak replied. “No one is chasing us. We have all the time in the world to reach Nibenay. For that matter, we do not even know what we are supposed to do when we get there.”
“Try to make contact with the Veiled Alliance,” she said. “That seems the obvious course.”
“Perhaps, but it will not be easy,” he said. “Strangers are always looked upon with suspicion in the cities. I remember how it was in Tyr. Neither of us have ever been to Nibenay, and unlike Tyr, Nibenay is still ruled by a defiler. The templars of the Shadow King will control all the power in the city, and they will have many informants. We shall have to be very circumspect in our inquiries.”
“We know the necessary signals for making contact with the Veiled Alliance,” said Ryana.
“Yes, but the templars doubtless know them, too. I fear that will not be enough. Long before we are aware of the Alliance in Nibenay, they shall be aware of us, which means that the templars will probably be aware of us, as well. In a city ruled by a defiler, the Veiled Alliance will want to take our measure carefully before attempting to make contact with us. We shall have to prove ourselves to them somehow.”
“Then we shall simply have to judge our opportunities as they arise,” Ryana replied. “Making any further plans at this point would serve little purpose. Remember, we still have to get there in one piece.”
Sorak grinned. “After seeing how you dealt with that thrax, I have few worries on that score.”
“I would have fewer worries still if we did not have so far to walk,” Ryana said dryly.
“Would you prefer to ride?” asked Sorak.
She glanced at him with surprise. He was always so serious, it seemed out of character for him to tease her.
“You have not been paying very close attention,” Sorak explained. He indicated the ground in front of them. “I had thought you would be more observant.”
She looked down where he pointed. “Kank spoor,” she said.
“We have been following it for the past hour,” Sorak said. “There is a small herd of kank somewhere just ahead of us. This spoor is fresh. They should be within sight before too long.”
“How many do think there are?” she said.
“Judging from the spoor, I should say at least a dozen or more,” Sorak said.
“We have seen no signs of any herdsman’s camp,” she said.
“No, which means these kanks are wild,” he replied. “They have all kept fairly close together while they have been on the move, so it is not a foraging party. They have broken off from a larger herd to form a hive and are searching for a place to build it.”
“That means they have a brood queen,” said Ryana.
“Yes, a young one, I should think, as the herd is still quite small.”
“So the soldiers will be quite aggressive,” she said. She glanced at him dubiously. “Do you think that you can handle them?”
“I could not, but Screech may be able to.”
“May?” she said uneasily.
Sorak shrugged. “Screech has never faced wild kanks before,” he said, “only tame ones raised by herdsmen.”
“And he has never faced wild soldier kanks defending a young brood queen,” Ryana added. “Do you think he will be up to the task?”
“There is only one way to find out,” said Sorak. “Kanks do not move very quickly.”
“Neither do I, compared to you,” she said.
“Would you rather walk?”
She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “Villichi priestesses always walk when they take pilgrimages. But then, I am no longer a priestess. It would be nice to ride to Nibenay.”
“Well, then we shall have to see what Screech can do,” said Sorak.
Within a short while, they topped a small rise and came within sight of the kanks. They heard them first. The clicking of their large mandibles made sounds like sticks being struck together. There were perhaps thirteen or fourteen of the creatures, spread out over a small area, their shiny, black, chitinous exoskeletons gleaming darkly in the sun. Ordinarily, kanks were docile insects, which was fortunate because of their very large size. Adults grew up to eight feet in length and stood as much as four feet high, weighing between three and four hundred pounds. Their segmented bodies consisted of a large, triangular-shaped head, an oval thorax and a round, bulbous abdomen, all of which were covered with a hard, chitinous exoskeleton. Their six multiple-jointe
d legs sprouted from the thorax, and each leg ended in a strong claw, which allowed the kank to grip uneven surfaces or prey.
Kanks were omnivorous creatures, but they generally did not attack people. They foraged for their food, or else subsisted on small desert mammals and reptiles. The exception was when they were on the move to establish a new hive and had a brood queen with them. In an established colony, the brood queen stayed in the hive, tended to by the food-producing kanks, who always remained in or near the hive, and by the soldiers, whose task it was to bring forage to the hive and provide protection to the food producers and the queen. A young brood queen was generally about the same size as the soldiers, who were smaller than the food producers and had larger pincers. Once the hive had been established, however the brood queen took her permanent place in her nest in the large, central chamber of the hive, where she was fed constantly until she reached maturity and grew to almost three times her original size. She then started laying eggs, in batches of twenty to fifty, and she continued laying eggs in cycles until the day she died, functioning as nothing more than a reproductive machine.
The food producers nourished the hatchlings with a green honey they manufactured in melon-sized globules covered with a thick membrane that grew out of their abdomens. Kank honey was very sweet and nourishing, and was regarded as a major food source in the cities and villages of Athas, one of the reasons kanks were raised by herdsmen on the tablelands. Kanks raised in this fashion could also be trained as beasts of burden, and commanded a good price in the city marketplaces. Herdsmen also sold their exoskeletons for use in the manufacture of inexpensive armor. Kank armor was functional, but too brittle to stand up to a lot of damage, and had to be frequently replaced. For these reasons, kanks had become a vital part of the economy of Athas.