Nearby, piled on some large smooth rocks, were the skinned remains of the Arzat’s kills. He sniffed carefully, relieved that none of the human carcasses matched Alex’s distinct scent. There was still a chance.
Mot followed the horse tracks down the canyon. Amongst them, he discovered the vague outline of another Arzat track that ran counter to all of the others. Perhaps one of them had turned and been able to escape, he thought.
He followed the shallow marks in the ground and stopped when he spotted blood. Mot bent down and flicked. It was definitely Arzat blood and the scent matched the tracks. Good, he thought. If this Arzat has truly escaped, he might still lead me to his clan or at least to the other Arzat who has taken Alex.
The tracks led up a shallow embankment and back into the trees. The horses had followed. The blood would make the Arzat much easier to track. If he continued to bleed, he would also become weak and easier to catch. Perhaps, Mot worried, even for the humans.
He paused and looked back up the ravine. From his new vantage point, he could clearly see the hunters’ mistake. Whoever had been leading them had made a very bad decision. Mot shook his head. The canyon was the perfect place for an attack from above.
Too bad for the hunters, he mused. Whatever their fears might have been, their worst one had just occurred. They will never be burned and therefore never have the chance to meet their Great Creator.
He looked once more at the sky, which was now almost completely clear of clouds. High above, magically floating on the air, Mot noticed the same dark creatures hovering that he had seen earlier when he killed the buffalo. The skin on his neck grew tight as he imagined what was about to occur.
Mot wished he could properly dispose of the bodies, but there was no time. He still hadn’t found the Arzat who had taken Alex, and since he hadn’t found her dead, he could only hope that she was still alive. She is very smart and very clever, he reassured himself. Perhaps . . .
He gripped his killing stick tightly and ran into the forest.
CHAPTER 34
TRACKER
Abraham squeezed his legs, urging Socrates on as he charged up a steep embankment. The horse was blowing hard and doing his best to please his master, but Abraham knew he must soon slow the pace or he’d kill his prized stallion. It was mid-day and they had not stopped since they had left the scene of the massacre except to occasionally water the horses.
All of the other animals were struggling as well, most more so than Socrates. Even Moses, who was on foot and who never seemed to tire from anything, showed signs of fatigue. Abraham could sense that the other warriors were beginning to question the ferocity of his pursuit. Their own mounts were just as precious to them as Socrates was to their leader. The higher they climbed, the thinner the air was becoming, making matters worse.
Finally, the group reached a small plateau and Abraham raised his hand. “We will stop and let the horses blow,” he said. Abraham looked to his tracker. “Moses, will you still be able to find the reptile if we slow the pace?” It was a rhetorical question. None of the warriors, least of all Abraham, doubted Moses’s ability to stay on the lizard’s trail. It was said that he had the nose of a dog and the legs of a deer. His fierce reputation as a tracker was unquestioned and envied by all. If Moses could not eventually find the beast, then it was not to be found.
Moses was studying the ground, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his own breath. He looked up at Abraham with his dark, droopy eyes and cracked a half smile, and then turned and loped off into the woods as if it were his first run of the day. He rarely spoke a single word more than was necessary.
Abraham released his reins and dismounted, giving his horse a good pat as he did so. There was no need to tie Socrates. The horse was so well trained that even if the animal did wander, Abraham could call him back with a single sharp whistle. The other warriors were not as confident with their own mounts and either kept their reins in their hands or tied them to tree branches.
He called the men into a circle and squatted. “Listen. I know some of you must be wondering why I am pushing so hard in pursuit of this lizard,” Abraham said, his eyes making contact with every one of them, “but I believe my daughter is still alive. If you ask me why, I would not be able to tell you. I feel it in my heart, and I must find her if she is to be found. Regardless, if they have captured one of our own and left them alive, it is my intention to attempt a rescue. Either way, given the opportunity, I intend to render justice.”
His men were silent, many of them gazing at the ground.
“We only worry about the animals,” one of the warriors, a big man named Remos, finally said.
“None of you need continue. You may turn now and return to the tribe,” Abraham replied, more quickly than was warranted. These were good men and Abraham had known them all of their lives. They were brave. They were warriors. He knew that they would gladly follow him into the afterworld if he asked.
Abraham turned and tried to get a look at where Moses had gone. He finally spotted him, much higher up the ridgeline, squatting and looking back down at the group. “We will rest the animals and lead them from here,” he said, not taking his eyes off their tracker. Of all of them, Abraham knew that Moses was the most keen on finding out where the lizard was heading. Moses had his own history with the reptiles.
For his own part, Abraham had had very little experience with the beasts. During the better part of his childhood and even as a young adult, the strange reptilians had always been more of a scary myth than a reality. For generations, the tribal leaders had simply counseled avoidance as one would a bear or a large cat. Since any actual encounter with the giant lizards was even more rare, it had seemed as if they could coexist.
Then had come the day when they had found the remains of a tribal hunting party. Moses had never been the same since. Given the opportunity, Abraham knew that Moses would not stop until all of the lizard men were eradicated. Now, after seeing what had just occurred in Maria’s camp, Abraham couldn’t say that he didn’t feel the same.
He stood and gestured toward Moses. The tracker turned and almost immediately disappeared into the trees. He would leave signs for Abraham to follow.
CHAPTER 35
TA’AR
Mek struggled up the last hill that stood between him and home, breathing heavily, his legs weak.
Normally, this part of the trip would be easy, but he had lost a considerable amount of blood and his wound had continued to gush. His arm burned and was becoming increasingly inflamed. The pain was so severe that Mek began to wonder if there had been some sort of poison on the tip of the shaft that had wounded him. He wanted to remove it, but he feared that doing so would cause even more bleeding.
To make matters worse, despite his best efforts, the umans and their very swift arsas had managed to stay on his trail. Mek had doubled back a few times, crossed water, and had used every other Arzat trick he knew to throw the smooth-skins off his scent, but he could tell that they were still with him. It was unnerving. He had never imagined the umans could be so capable.
As he neared the caves and his close pursuit by the smooth-skins continued, Mek was faced with a very unpleasant decision. Should he continue on and warn the clan or try now to lead the umans away?
Mek knew almost certainly what the Elders would say in this case—that Mek should go anywhere besides the caves. But that would also mean that he would die. His bleeding hadn’t stopped, and he was desperate to get the help of the Healers. If he continued on, away from the caves, he knew he was going to eventually bleed out, and sooner or later, he would be forced to stop and surrender to the umans. The thought made him shudder. He had already seen that they could be as unmerciful as any angry Arzat.
They will torture me, he thought. Besides, he reasoned, if I do not return home, who will ever know what happened to our hunting party? Who will recount the incredible story? Who will warn the clan? Mek knew it was possible that Za’at might make it back, but it is also possible
that he too had already been intercepted by the umans and cut down. Mek shuddered, remembering the carnage of the uman attack. No, he thought, better to risk the wrath of the Elders.
Before this morning, no Arzat would have had any idea that the smooth-skins could be so clever and so brutal. None had ever guessed that they were such . . . excellent hunters. No, he thought, these umans were not just some other inferior predatory animal to be laughed at, occasionally slaughtered and eaten, or otherwise largely ignored. They were quite dangerous and extremely deadly!
He stopped and squatted, placing his hands flat to the earth. For a moment, there was a glimmer of hope. Mek felt nothing. Then, as he waited, the footfalls of the umans’ arsas began ringing through his fingers again, faint at first, then stronger. As he continued to monitor the ground, he watched a small river of blood track down his arm and run into the soil.
Mek looked up at the sky and cursed the Great Creator, then prayed. Eventually, he focused his attention back to the two dismal choices before him. He was on an old Arzat trail, one branch leading up the hill to home and one branch breaking off and away from it.
Mek struggled to his feet and headed towards the caves.
* * *
“What do you mean, the umans are almost upon us?” Ta’ar demanded, the tone of his voice burning the air around Mek’s face as if he were breathing fire.
Ta’ar was the most feared of all of the Elders. Though clan law dictated that the council was to be attended by at least five Elder Arzats and ruled by their majority, Ta’ar was essentially in charge and had the final say in most matters regarding the governance of their Morza Clan.
He was eight by five seasons old, calloused and wrinkled, his rough skin slightly loosened by age around his thighs and mid-section. Nonetheless, Ta’ar was very large even for an Arzat male. He still looked fit enough to rip apart anyone that might question his authority or directly challenge him, and his killing stick matched his size. No one, so far as Mek knew, had been stupid enough to find out if he could still use it.
Mek had burst into the caves only moments before, obviously wounded and blabbering as if he were out of his Arzat mind, and Ta’ar had been immediately summoned along with the four other Elders. News of the young hunter’s arrival traveled fast and most of the cave’s entire population of males also headed for the Great Chamber. The females had been ordered out. Only the most senior female was ever allowed to stay during council, in the rare case that her opinion might be required, but even she had been dismissed.
Now Ta’ar squatted, facing the young Arzat who had returned from a hunting expedition without the seven other Arzats who had gone out with him. Two Healers were also present, examining Mek’s wound and attempting to stanch the fresh flow of blood they had caused by removing the strange uman shaft that had been buried in his arm. The moment they seemed to have some success, Ta’ar ordered them away, anxious to get the full story from the young Arzat. When one of the Healers didn’t move fast enough for Ta’ar’s pleasure, his ass received a painful prod from the blunt end of the Elder’s killing stick.
“What do you mean, Mek?” Ta’ar asked again, eyeballing the curious smooth-skin weapon, which was still caked with Mek’s blood. It looked like a child’s plaything.
“I . . . I . . . we . . . we were ambushed early this morning, Ta’ar, son of Ra’ak.” Mek knew that his responses likely meant whether he would live or he would die, despite his wound.
“Arzats ambushed by umans?” the old Arzat asked incredulously. “Why, I have never heard of such a thing—never! They live in the lands far past the evening light of Qu’aa several het from here. You would have to have purposely set out to find them in order for them to have done so.”
Ta’ar suddenly remembered that Za’at had been in charge of the hunt and the scales on the back of his neck rose.
“Perhaps we should let Mek tell the story,” Na’a, one of the other Elders offered.
Na’a was technically the most senior of the Elders. So senior in fact, that he no longer held much power. He was weak and his mind occasionally wandered due to the eight by eight seasons he had spent on this earth. Na’a was due to be voted off the Council soon and eventually assisted into the Great Void, but his time had not quite yet come. In the meantime, Ta’ar annoyed him. If only I were a few seasons younger, he thought, blocking.
“Go ahead Mek,” Ta’ar said, waving his free hand in the air. “But do not try my patience with such nonsense.” He focused his attention back to the young hunter before him and his outlandish story.
Umans attacking and killing Arzats? Impossible, he thought, blocking.
Mek recounted the events that had led to his present predicament as quickly as possible using a strange mix of spoken words and telepathy. He was careful to block anything that might have incriminated his own actions—particularly his decision to return to the caves.
“So,” Ta’ar asked when Mek was through, “you just stumbled upon these umans and decided to attack them?”
“Well . . . Za’at said . . .”
“Za’at said . . . Za’at said . . .” Ta’ar interrupted, practically screaming. “Where exactly is Za’at?” His eyes bored into the young Arzat. Mek realized that Ta’ar was trying to access his mind completely, which in his weakened state was getting harder and harder to defend against.
“As I have said, Elder Ta’ar, the last time I saw Za’at he had gone off to try to find the female uman who had killed Ack.”
“And where again are these smooth-skins who attacked you?”
“Perhaps two or three torches away, perhaps less,” Mek said, expecting Ta’ar to thrust his killing stick into him at any moment. “I did everything I knew to throw them off my trail. They are excellent trackers.”
Mek was right. Ta’ar was furious with him for leading the smooth-skins to the caves, but even Ta’ar was not sure how he actually felt about Mek’s ultimate decision to return to them. Had Mek not come back, neither he nor the Council would be aware of the precious information about the umans that Mek had just delivered.
Ta’ar himself had killed a few of the smooth-skins in his days as a hunter, but he had mostly avoided any contact. The umans were a known nuisance, but nothing more. So long as they stayed far away and didn’t make it a habit of hunting in the Arzat’s territory, they could be tolerated. Now, it appeared, they had suddenly become much more than that. They had become a threat to the entire clan.
“How many?” Ta’ar asked, fearing the answer.
“I could not determine that exactly, Elder Ta’ar. I didn’t see them during the attack and have been running from them since. I felt the ground many times, but their animals . . . I would say many. Perhaps eight by four or five of them.”
Ta’ar waived over another Arzat who had been standing just out of earshot. His name was Sa’te, and he was one of Ta’ar’s favorite sons. Sa’te was an excellent hunter and had just returned from a very successful foray of which he had also been leader—bringing back two full-sized ungos without incident.
“Sa’te,” Ta’ar said quietly, “assemble all of the hunters here at once. I will meet with them shortly. Then, go quickly and see if you can find the smooth-skins Mek is talking about and determine their numbers and their actual whereabouts.”
Sa’te had a personal issue with Za’at, so he had been delighted when he had returned to find that his hunting party was the first back to the caves and more so because he had returned before Za’at. Since then, all of the other hunting parties besides Za’at’s had also made their way home and all with successful kills.
Sa’te smiled inwardly. The fact that the smooth-skins were so close to the caves worried him not in the least. He loved a good fight and the umans were a perfect target. Eight by four, eight by five, eight by eight by eight of them! We will exterminate them and roast them for dinner. With any luck, it will be Sa’te, son of the great Hunter Ta’ar, who slays the greatest number of them, he thought gleefully.
As Ta’
ar had ordered, Sa’te sent a summons throughout the caves for the hunters to assemble and hurried out, secretly hoping to find the umans very close by.
CHAPTER 36
THE CLIFF
Za’at’s left shoulder was still burning, but the bleeding had miraculously stopped and the wound had already formed a dark scab. In his right hand, he carried the head of the beast that had almost killed him, reluctantly leaving the rest of the animal’s carcass for the scavengers. Had he been able, he would have skinned the beast and brought the entire hide as well. Za’at had never heard of an Arzat killing one of the great kootas. Now, he had done so single-handedly and held at least some of the proof in his good hand.
He looked back at the strange smooth-skin female that had saved him, still amazed by his entire encounter with her and particularly with her ability to directly communicate with him. She was trailing behind and breathing hard but obviously doing her best to keep pace.
Za’at welcomed the excuse to travel more slowly than usual. Though he was feeling better, the battle with the koota and the resultant loss of blood had weakened him. Hauling the dead beast’s large and rather heavy head with his one good arm wasn’t making progress any easier, but he was determined to get his incredible trophy to the caves.
No matter, Za’at thought, as the terrain became more and more familiar. They were getting close. Soon he would be home regardless.
Any trepidation that he had about the Elders earlier was gone. Za’at, son of the Great Hunter Qua, was now coming back not only with the head of one of the Arzat’s most feared predators, but with a live smooth-skin and the knowledge of how to create fire! By now, he thought, Ba’a and the other hunters were sure to have returned with the bounty of their very unusual hunt! He imagined that the entire clan was buzzing with prospect of uman flesh for dinner.
IN NATURA: a science fiction novel (ARZAT SERIES Book 2) Page 22