Children of the Plains

by Paul B. Thompson

  Scales gritted between her teeth. The snake’s pliant bones resisted, then broke under the pressure. Hissing furiously, the snake’s body coiled and flailed. Nianki pushed her right hand out and grabbed the angry serpent. A flickering sensation against her left eye was the viper’s tongue, lashing in vain. Nianki ground her jaws together, into the meat of the snake. Its struggles diminished. She pulled with her hand against the grip of her own teeth and the viper’s head came off. She held on until she was sure it was dead, then she spat it out.

  All through her silent battle, the hubbub outside had grown louder. Triumphant cries gave way to screams and obvious maledictions. Nianki heard running and the unmistakable sounds of falling. They must have found her shirt – and the hornets’ nest.

  Weary, she lowered her head to the lichen-coated wood. She remained in the log until well after the round patch of blue sky at the open end had changed first to purple, then to black.

  At last Nianki crawled out. Listening carefully for prowling elves, she stretched her cramped body. All she heard was the normal nightly chorus of frogs and crickets. She saw the pale splotch of her shirt lying on the ground. Shivering from the cool night air, she retrieved it and quickly put it on.

  Nianki pulled from the hollow tree the long carcass of the snake she’d killed. Properly dried, viper meat was good to eat. She slung the dead snake over her shoulder and, with the stars as her guide, began the trek away from the elves’ country.

  As she walked, the words of the old man at the seashore came back to her. Powerful in spirit, but difficult to deal with. In her opinion, the elves were a difficulty, but not insurmountable. They seemed less dangerous than the vile beasts that had taken her family, and yet...

  She grasped the cold smooth body of the dead snake. There were things in the wilderness a good hunter couldn’t ignore, things that wouldn’t leave you alone even if you were quiet and still.

  Plainsmen were leaving the south to escape the elves. Nianki would go, too. Her mother’s people would be gone anyway. There was no help for her to be had, no hands to rely on but her own.

  So be it.

  Chapter 6

  Squeezing through the large upper opening in the cave wall, Duranix dropped four smoldering goat carcasses on the floor. In his true shape, he filled the great cave to an alarming degree. Amero ducked and dodged the dragon’s feet and tail, yet still managed to catch a stunning blow from one of Duranix’s wingtips. Seeing his discomfort, Duranix resumed human form.

  Amero picked himself up from the cave floor, grumbling, “It’s like being a mouse in a bear’s den.”

  “I see I’ll have to remain small for you.”

  “Is it hard for you to stay in your man-shape?”

  “It’s confining, but there are some advantages. Being human muffles my senses somewhat, which makes it easier to be around you.”

  Amero touched a steaming haunch. He snatched his fingers back and blew on them. “What do you mean?”

  Duranix wrenched off a charred goat leg. The sizzling meat didn’t burn him at all. “Humans smell bad. Odors stick to that soft skin of yours. While I’m in human form, the smell doesn’t bother me as much.”

  Amero could smell nothing but burned goat flesh. He asked the dragon why the animals were so seared.

  “I take them down with bolts of lightning,” Duranix explained. “That way I don’t have to chase them so long. Also, seared meat is more digestible than raw.”

  Though his skepticism was evident, when the goat cooled Amero tried cooked meat for the first time. At first it tasted dirty, as if it had been dropped on the ground, but under the charred crust the meat was tender and tasted less burned. To his surprise, Amero found himself enjoying the dragon’s fare.

  Human-sized or not, Duranix had the appetite of his larger form. He ate three of the goats and most of the fourth, leaving Amero to snatch what he could in between. When Duranix was done, only a few bones remained. His stomach ought to have been bulging alarmingly, but he looked no different than before. Amero gathered up the leftover bones and put them on the pile at the rear of the cave.

  When he returned, he found Duranix at the lower opening, gazing out. His usual breezy manner was suddenly subdued. “What troubles you?” Amero asked.

  “The yevi have entered the plain in strength,” said the dragon. “Though they try to hide from me, I counted more than a hundred between the western forest and the fork of the Plains River. I can only assume even more are roaming the regions I didn’t inspect.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It means hard times for you humans. The yevi will sweep your small hunting bands from the plain before winter sets in.” Duranix turned to regard his young friend. “The destruction of your family will be repeated many times.”

  Amero knew what that meant. His sleep was still troubled by nightmares of his family’s destruction. In his dreams, he had to watch helplessly, unable to move, as Oto, Kinar, Nianki, and Menni were torn apart by ravening yevi.

  He said urgently, “Can’t you stop them?”

  Duranix clasped his hands behind his back. “I am only one. They are many.”

  “Why is this happening?” Amero demanded, pacing up and down behind Duranix. “Where do the yevi come from?”

  “They come from the depths of the great marsh that lies on the far side of the western forest. There Sthenn plots to displace free creatures, like you humans, with his own minions. He’s a green dragon, my elder by a thousand years, and a clever, vicious character. He’s tried to kill me before. When I was but a hatchling, he brought down an avalanche on our nest, killing my two clutchmates and grievously wounding my mother.”

  For the first time Amero felt a common bond with his fantastic protector. Both of them had lost their families, and both, ultimately, to the same villain.

  “Why did Sthenn try to kill you?” Amero asked. “Why does he try to wipe out the plainsfolk?”

  Duranix turned away from the dark door. For a moment, Amero saw his eyes gleam in the dim light.

  “You’ve lived long enough to know the world is made up of competing forces. Red ants fight the black ants. Wolves bring down a deer and are chased away from their kill by panthers. Men, ogres, and centaurs rove the plains and mountains, trying to stay ahead of hunger, disease, and one another. Do you understand?”

  Amero nodded mutely.

  “Even dragons must compete, boy. Sthenn wants this land. I’m not sure why. There isn’t much here. It isn’t rich by dragon standards. Maybe he wants it only because I have it. Who knows? But I will not let him have it, not one tree, not one peak. I would fight your Great Spirits themselves to keep what is mine.”

  Amero was silent, not fully understanding what had been said. Duranix pulled some of the dry boughs from the boy’s bed and piled them in the center of the cave. He pointed one hand at the pile and a tiny flare of lightning crackled forth, igniting the tinder. Soon the boughs were blazing brightly.

  Amero had seen fire in the wild before, but he knew it as a faceless enemy, burning trees, consuming food, terrifying game. When Duranix started the fire the boy kept well back.

  “Why are you skulking back there?” the dragon asked. “Come closer. Fire is something to respect, not fear. It’s either good or bad, depending how you use it.”

  Amero approached the flames warily. The heat felt pleasant on his face. Duranix’s cave was chilly by night, and the fire dispelled both the somber shadows and the clinging cold.

  “How do we stop the yevi?” he asked, staring at the flames.

  “‘We?’” said Duranix. He smiled, showing lots of teeth. “‘We’ shall try to stop the spread of the yevi packs, somehow. I don’t think Sthenn will come out to fight me, dragon to dragon. If we defeat the yevi, that will be enough for the time being.”

  Again, Amero didn’t quite grasp every word, but he knew enough to believe Duranix could be a powerful ally to his people. But the plainsmen were scattered. How to let his people know? And what t
o do once Amero found them? Most, faced with Duranix in his natural shape, would react like Genta and his sons – they would want to kill the “monster.” There had to be a way to let the hunters and plainsmen know that Duranix was actually their friend.

  “No, boy, I’m not,” the dragon said, once more hearing Amero’s thoughts. “I don’t love your kind. You’re smelly, quarrelsome, and violent.”

  Amero opened his mouth to protest, but Duranix waved away the unspoken words.

  “But, tiresome as you are, I prefer humans to Sthenn’s mindless beasts. You at least can choose to be good or evil, and that makes you greater in spirit than all the yevi Sthenn commands.” He tossed a dry branch on the fire. It blazed up, the flames casting weird shadows on the arching walls. “It puts you in advance of us dragons, too, in some ways.”

  Amero regarded him quizzically, disbelieving. Did he have a power the dragon didn’t possess? If he did, what about other men and women? Would their collective strength be great enough to resist Sthenn?

  This time Duranix did not respond to his unspoken question. Still in human form, the dragon had ascended to his broad stone bed and fallen deeply asleep. Eating did that, he’d explained earlier.

  Amero watched the glowing embers of the dying fire for a long time. The fire fascinated him. He pushed a dry fir bough into the ashes and watched it catch light. As each needle flamed, it spread its fire to its neighbor, until they were all ablaze. Once burned, the fir bough fell rapidly to ash, crumbled, and disappeared. What if the yevi were like the fire, and the plainsfolk their kindling? If the plains people didn’t band together, would they be consumed until nothing remained but smoke in the air and dust on the ground?

  *

  “There must be an easier way,” Amero said. He was standing inside the cave mouth, hundreds of paces above the foaming falls. He’d just asked Duranix how he was supposed to get down, and the dragon’s first response was, “Jump.”

  “I’ll carry you,” Duranix said patiently.

  “Well, yes, but —” He dug his toe into one of the shallow grooves in the cave floor. “Could you cut handholds in the rock for me?”

  Fearlessly Duranix leaned out, bracing himself casually with one hand. “Do you really want to climb up and down a sheer cliff face?”

  He didn’t, but Amero hated being so dependent on the dragon. “I’ll think of something else,” he muttered.

  Duranix wrapped an arm around Amero’s chest and leaped through the waterfall. The brief shock of cold water was followed by a prolonged sensation of falling. Amero felt Duranix’s arm transform from human to dragon. The great creature spread his wings, and with a snap, their downward plunge ceased.

  Amero opened his eyes. They were gliding across the lake of the falls, a long triangle of water whose sharp end curled west and narrowed to become the Six Canyons River, a tributary of the mighty Plains River. Above them the sky was dotted with dull white clouds. The enormous shadow of the dragon raced over the placid surface of the lake, growing larger and faster as Duranix lost altitude. Beating his wings rapidly, the dragon slowed and lowered his hind legs. He landed lightly on a sandy hillock on the north side of the river.

  With some effort, Duranix writhed and shrank into human form. He was red-faced and panting by the time he resumed his borrowed shape.

  When Amero looked at him quizzically, the dragon said, “Going from large to small is work. From small to large is... liberating.”

  Since searching by air failed to turn up many of the roving yevi, Duranix had resolved to return to the plain on foot. At ground level he could pick up individual tracks, scents, and spoor of the yevi. He could see far when aloft, but the dragon could also be seen from far away. Tracking the hunting packs on the ground was a slower method but promised better results. He set off at a rapid pace that soon had Amero floundering to keep up.

  “Wait – wait,” the boy gasped, staggering through the waist-high grass. “Don’t go so fast!”

  “There’s a lot of ground to cover. The faster I go, the sooner it will be done.”

  “I can’t keep up! Remember, I’m only a human!” Duranix slackened his pace reluctantly, making no secret of his disdain for Amero’s weakness.

  The land below the mountains was terraced by flattened hills that widened and lowered as the pair headed west. Clumps of highland pines and cedars thinned until solitary ones stood out like lonely sentinels on the horizon. Striding along with no attempt at stealth, Duranix scattered herds of wild oxen ahead of them and flushed coveys of pigeons from the tall grass.

  The boy and the human-shaped dragon made rapid progress. By midday the mountains were only a smudge at their backs. Duranix agreed to a respite when he reached a wide, flat boulder in the midst of the plain. Amero went scouting for water while the dragon perched comfortably atop the sun-baked stone, soaking up the heat like a basking lizard.

  A small stream, choked with grass, ran down a gully a few dozen paces from Duranix’s sunning spot. Amero parted the grass and dipped out a few handfuls of water. It was poor stuff compared to the waterfall, tasting tepid and weedy. He lifted his head and looked downstream. A fallen twig, boldly white against the green grass, lay half in the water not far away. Wood that white had to be birch, he thought, rising to his knees, but birch didn’t grow on the high plains —

  On closer inspection, the “twig” proved to be the arm bone of a human child a girl, judging by the scraps of clothing left on the skeleton. Rain had washed away the smell of decay, but the ferocious bite marks on the girl’s bones were ample evidence of what had caused her death.

  Amero recoiled in horror and opened his mouth to summon Duranix. Before he could form the words in his throat, Duranix was beside him.

  “I heard your shock,” said the dragon. He knelt by the pathetic remains. “Yevi?”

  “Probably. A panther would eat the marrow from the long bones as well as the flesh, and a bear would carry a kill back to its den.”

  Duranix snapped an arm bone in two and sniffed the marrow inside. Amero grimaced.

  “Dead no more than four days,” said Duranix. “What the yevi left, the scavengers finished.”

  “She must have had a family,” Amero said sadly. “I wonder what happened to them?”

  Duranix stood up. “No trees nearby to hide in, and no caves. I’d say they were killed.” He swept the horizon with his powerful senses, trying to locate any living humans or yevi in the vicinity.

  His search was interrupted when Amero dropped to his knees and began to dig. With his bare hands he tore up tough lumps of prairie grass. Worms and grubs fled into the earth as quickly as he exposed them. He clawed angrily at the root-infested soil.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The girl must be buried, else her spirit cannot rest,” Amero replied, without slackening.

  “Is that true?”

  “I believe it.”

  Duranix went down on one knee. With two sweeps of his hand, he doubled the depth of the hole Amero had started. When the hole was elbow deep, Amero gently placed the dry bones in it. Some of them were missing, but when all the bones present were placed in the hole, Amero said, “Rest now. May your ancestors greet you with joy.”

  Duranix cocked his head curiously at the boy’s words but said nothing as Amero pushed the dirt back and pressed clumps of sod in place.

  “There are no large beasts within range of my senses,” Duranix said. “The girl’s tracks show she was running from south to north when the yevi caught her. A child that young wouldn’t be on her own, so we should go south to look for others in her party.”

  Amero sadly agreed, and they resumed their march.

  The land grew flatter, and Duranix began to outpace Amero once more. The boy trudged along, beset by late autumn heat, buzzing flies, and the thoughts churning in his mind.

  The child had been perhaps six or seven – older than his brother Menni, but far too young to meet the fate that had found her. He mourned her, though he’d never
known her.

  See how the one lags behind. His mind wanders.

  Amero heard the voice in his head, a thin whisper, like the crackling of a dry reed. He looked left and right, ahead and behind. The only thing he saw was Duranix, striding along far in front of him.

  Quiet! It hears you!

  Never! Two-legged beasts have no ears to hear us.

  Amero thumped his forehead with the heel of this hand. Who was whispering?

  Let him draw a few more paces back, and he will be ours!

  What of the other?

  He is too coarse to hear us, and we will be swift. Spread out, brothers.

  Sweat popped out on Amero’s face, sweat brought on not by the trek but by sudden enlightenment. He was hearing the voices of yevi! They were near, close enough to see him and Duranix. Where were they? Why didn’t the dragon hear them, too?

  He feared to slow down too much or to call to Duranix, in case it precipitated their attack. What could he do?

  He had a weapon.

  The sharpened dragon scale was still shoved into the waist of his loincloth. It rode on his right hip, hard and inflexible. Head down, still shuffling his tired feet, Amero drew the scale. He hadn’t yet made a handle for it, but the curved edge was keen enough to cut through the toughest hides in Duranix’s cave. He let the tool dangle loosely from his hand.

  Duranix! Duranix, if you can hear me, help! Yevi are stalking me! he thought as forcefully as he could. The tall figure of his human-disguised friend drew ahead, widening the gap between them.

  Grass stems wavered against the prevailing breeze. Something was creeping up on him from both sides. Beads of sweat chilling on his skin, Amero kept his eyes locked on the path ahead, not daring to look right or left. In his mind’s eye he imagined three of the gray killers crawling on their hollow bellies through the grass – one behind, one on each side. He gripped the dragon scale tighter. Now, over the hiss of wind in the grass and his own footsteps, he could hear the movements of the yevi clearly. Amero whirled, the sharp scale held horizontally at arm’s length.