“We’ll need torches,” one hunter said.
The lead Angara outside the cave stared silently for a moment, then held his hands out as if beseeching some unseen god overhead.
“AAAAAH!” he growled. “I’M GOING TO GUT THESE SLAVES AND EAT THEIR LUNGS!”
After a moment of annoyed head shaking, he stepped forward toward his fellows, daintily trying to avoid the mud. He stopped about ten paces from the others, looking at the device in his hand, then slipped, and sunk into the mud up to his shins. He dropped his arms and turned his eyes skyward, again.
“Hasha be merciful,” he said, and shook his head. “I’M REALLY HATING YOU RIGHT NOW, SLAVES!”
Then he looked again at the thing in his hands, and up, again, quickly, searching the cave.
“According to this, they’re right here,” he said.
The other two looked at one another confused.
“Are you on ‘close’?” The other asked.
“Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m on ‘close’! They should be standing right here!”
Nala leaped out from under her grass mat before she was supposed to, screamed, and ran the third Angara through with her spear tip. He howled, grabbed the wooden shaft, jerked it from her hand, and charged after her. That’s when she looked my way and cried out.
“BRANDON! HELP!”
The lead Angara followed her glance and finally noticed me, buried in the mud along the wall of the cave right beside him. As I’d hoped, he was startled enough to freeze for the moment it took me to wrench loose my spear and run it through his stomach. He spasmed back with my plunge, but his expression of shocked horror never changed. He tried futilely to raise his axe, but blood spurted from his mouth, and his body began to go limp.
Moving quickly, I snagged the device and the axe from his hands before he could drop them, placed a foot against his chest and tried to shove him off my spear. But his weight folded in on me, and I couldn’t get the thing loose. So I kicked him away and raced for the Angara now menacing Nala, axe raised. The third Angara, partially rooted in the mud, saw me coming and raised his own weapon to deflect mine. The axes clanged, sparking in the dim light, and unfortunately for him my blade caromed directly into his face. He was dead before he realized what had happened.
Spear lodged in one Angara, axe lodged in the other, I had no remaining weapons so I just grabbed Nala’s hand, and ran for the cave’s exit. I heard the panther man gathering himself behind me, and terrifyingly found myself struggling through the wet muck floor of the cave. Nala screamed when she realized that she, too, was virtually trapped.
I turned to look over my shoulder, and saw the remaining Angara struggling our way, Nala’s spear still impaling him. The wood of her weapon snagged on a sodden root, jerked his torso downward, and snapped. The Angara screamed, but shrugged it off and kept moving, straining in our direction, fury gouging his face into a mask of animalistic rage. If we didn’t get free of this sticky, wet earth around our ankles and shins, he was going to reach us and, as promised, eat our lungs.
“Shit!” I snarled, trying to work myself loose. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“BRANDON!” Nala yelled.
Trying to think quickly, I leaned forward and pulled myself with my arms.
“Crawl, Nala!” I said.
Crawling turned out to be much faster than running, and as the Angara got closer, he, too, leaned forward and pulled himself with both hands and legs. The three of us struggled, digging toes and clawing fingers, and before long I’d yanked myself free, pulling Nala up beside me just ahead of the Angara’s reach, and together we exploded from the mouth of the cave, just beyond the grasp of our unceasing pursuer.
Shoving Nala from the cave, I heard her shriek and fall from the force of my push, but I didn’t care. I grabbed a vine that dangled near the opening, and pulled for all I was worth. From the overhang above, hundreds of pounds of loose stone dropped between me and the panther man hunter, crushing him in the process. The cave wasn’t completely sealed, but the opening that remained was too small for any man, or Angara, to squirm through.
My little scheme had worked almost as well as I’d planned.
“Dammit, Brandon!” Nala yelled. “I was almost killed!”
“You jumped out too soon!” I said.
“They weren’t going any further into the cave! I had to go!”
“I wanted to avoid killing them if possible!”
“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to kill an Angara!” she said, shaking her head. We’d argued about it for quite a while before hiding ourselves.
I thought momentarily of Kiga, and shook my head.
“Never mind,” I told her. “It’s done.”
I turned my attention to the device in my hand that would hopefully take me straight to Nova.
“I’ve got what we needed,” I said.
“What you needed! It’s not going to do me any damn good!”
Ignoring her, I turned and headed back the way we’d come, looking for a place to sit so I could figure out how to work my little, prehistoric GPS.
A fallen tree ahead and to my right formed a rather neat little bench, so I sat there and began studying the rounded, metallic, silver box. Nala situated herself behind me, leaning over for a good look, and perching her breasts awkwardly atop my shoulders.
The thing seemed pretty rudimentary. A small, radar-like screen showed a purple dot in the middle that I assumed was me. Two small knobs on either side of the screen, and a couple buttons were the only controls. Hoping I wouldn’t break it in some way, I twisted one of the knobs. My purple dot moved quickly to one side. Not wanting to lose the only marker I could see, I turned the knob back, to re-center my light.
Twisting the second knob made my dot shrink, and I began to see outlines of the coastline before me, with indications of the mountains behind. Ah, okay. So this was how to get a wider perspective. But how to find Nova? There were other dots on the device, including a blue one not far from me. Could there be other hunters out searching for…
“What are those lights?” Nala asked, mesmerized, and covering the device with her hand to shade out the blinding noonday sun, her lips very close to my ear. “They glow like the spots on a vishanti fish.”
Goosebumps rose on my flesh, and not from Nala’s contact. The blue dot was moving fast toward my purple dot, and nearly on top of it.
A spear suddenly exploded through Nala’s chest, between her breasts, clipping my shoulder. Startled, she looked down at the wooden shaft, the blood, and began to shake, staring at me, pleadingly.
“Brandon,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Nala?”
“It hurts…”
She fell to the ground, and lay very still, her eyes staring emptily up at me.
* * *
DEATH AND THE SEA
* * *
I turned just in time to see the Angara from the cave, face split wide from the impact of the axe that was still lodged there, swinging a club down on a collision course with my skull. I dove and the thing splintered the redwood log I had been sitting on. If it had connected with my head, much of my upper torso would be nothing more than a moist spray of red. Leaping to my feet I backed away as the panther man expertly yanked his weapon from my former position, made a quick check down at Nala, deduced that she was no threat, and hurled his immense body right at me with shocking speed.
“Don’t leave me…” Nala pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Angara swung, I ducked, cudgel once again impacting wood instead of my face, as another, only slightly smaller tree shattered and fell. I danced aside a third time as the weapon rushed back around, scraped my face and embedded itself on its downward arc in the soft, damp, moss covered earth. The stone club became tangled in the detritus, and was stuck just long enough to allow me to roll free and run.
I knew that once he’d loosened his weapon the Angara would be back on me, and wasn’t likely to miss many mor
e times. I searched frantically for a weapon, or a hole to dive into, but there was nothing.
Arcing back around to where he’d first attacked us, I dropped beside Nala, and turned her head gently to look up at me. Her eyes were still open, her mouth moving, but making no sound. Checking on my enemy, I saw the Angara pull his club-head free and turn back my way.
Lifting Nala, relieved that she was lighter than she looked, I ran—sprinting and leaping with a speed I never knew I had. I was nearly to the beach when I saw what at first glance seemed to be another downed tree, but after a second and third glance turned out to be an upturned canoe partially hidden in the thick foliage.
Hearing the Angara frighteningly close behind me, I angled toward the canoe, hoping to use it as a temporary shield. I thought I felt the panther man’s weapon graze the back of my head, just as I leaped forward, beneath the handmade boat.
Nala screamed from the pain of the spear through her chest—the same one she’d shoved through the Angara in the cave—as it bent and twisted with my dive.
Not waiting for the Angara to smash through the canoe and pulp me, I stood up from underneath and lifted my cover, shoving the boat in his direction, apparently just as he was about to strike. The stunned Angara was caught off guard as I had shortened the arc of his swing enough that he had no strength in it, the blow bounced harmlessly off the canoe, and I could see his feet—very close to mine—stumble backwards.
His ankles tangled in some roots or vines, and he fell over into a thicket of low scrub with the now upright canoe on top of him. Not knowing what else to do, I jumped on the canoe, and him, pining the panther man atop his chest, then leaned over to punch him—repeatedly and hard—on either side of his split open face. He screamed, horribly. Then I grabbed the axe handle, pressed my foot onto his screaming mouth and yanked the blade free.
For a moment he seemed to go limp, so I took the moment to return to Nala, lift her, and lay her inside the little boat. Shoving with all I had I forced it and her in a line toward the sandy beach, hoping to escape on the water.
“Hey!” Someone yelled. But I didn’t care enough to slow down and see who.
“HEY!” The voice repeated, as the little skiff hit ocean, skipped across some gentle waves, and I threw myself in. Grabbing hold of a crude paddle lodged under the rough-cut seat, I dragged it ferociously through the crystalline sea.
Finally I turned to see who was calling.
Further down the shore a huge, incredibly tall, brown-skinned man was running rapidly toward me, arms waving, anger etching his face.
“STOP!” He insisted, as he reached the edge of the sand where I had entered the sea. “STOP!”
I didn’t.
But I did slow my rowing enough to point warningly behind him. Surprised, and confused, he did as I suggested, just in time to see the enormous Angara, flesh falling away from the center of his face, charging out of the trees and right for him.
The brown man screamed.
When he turned back to me his face had changed completely from angry to terrified, his eyes so wide he looked like a cartoon drawing of… well… a man in fear for his life.
He tossed aside the weapon and a string of small rodents he must have captured, and with a massive leap dove into the waters to swim after me. The Angara threw his club at one of us, but overthrew—at least I think he did—and the damn thing only grazed my shoulder as it clanked against the bow of the boat behind me, and bounced into the sea beyond.
“Bran… don,” Nala said. “Are… you… there?”
“I’m here, Nala,” I said.
Keeping an eye on the events behind us, I reached a hand down and rubbed her thigh, comfortingly. As I did, she grabbed my fingers tightly, desperately.
Behind us, weapon spent, the enormous panther man followed the brown man whose boat I was probably stealing into the transparent waves and began to swim awkwardly, frenziedly, but still very quickly in our direction. I didn’t want to abandon the poor brown-skinned man, but I recognized that if he caught us Nala and I might both be in serious trouble, so I grasped the paddle again, intending to urge the awkward, wobbly little craft away from him, further out onto the surface of the bowl-shaped sea. But Nala refused to let go of my fingers, and given her state, I didn’t want to force them free.
At best I was only able to make slow progress with one arm, especially in an unfamiliar little skiff that bobbed stubbornly in every direction but the one I wanted to go. A glance over my shoulder showed me that the brown man was rapidly closing the gap, his mighty strokes assuring he would overtake us in no time. Even with both hands free I could never outdistance him.
With Nala still clamped to my hand, I set the paddle aside and waited for the boat’s owner. We were about a hundred yards from shore when it became clear that the poorly swimming but powerful Angara would reach my pursuer before he reached us, probably within a few dozen strokes. I debated rowing back to help him, knowing he’d probably just throw me out of his boat and into the angry arms of the still thrashing panther man.
“Aaah, damn my conscience,” I said to no one.
I forced my fingers free of Nala’s grasp, and bent to the grandfather of all paddles, forcing it to row me back in the direction of the brown giant, as the enormous panther man gained and gained.
I was close enough, now, that the brown giant’s hand was reaching upward for the stern when suddenly a sleek, sinuous body burst from the depths in a violent surge. The brown man saw it too, and the look of horror and certain death that erupted across his face told me I wasn’t going to have to worry about him, or the Angara for much longer.
The thing was probably a plesiosaur, but I barely remember most of the dinosaurs I loved as a kid, so I couldn’t swear to it. Whatever it was, it had a long neck with a giant mouth at the end, filled with rows of glistening teeth.
The head arced and plunged down toward the brown giant and as it was about to engulf the poor man in its razor filled jaws I surprised even myself by slamming its head aside with the paddle. I knocked the thing just far enough off course that the head narrowly missed the brown giant, but still almost dragged him under with the force of its dive.
The man turned pleading eyes my way, and in them I saw surprise, fear, and… gratitude. I stunned us both by reaching out a hand to lift him aboard. He responded quickly, not questioning my motives, gripping my fingers tightly and pulling with everything he had. Obviously skilled at struggling in and out of boats on an unstable sea, the brown man was inside and beside me in seconds. But neither of us felt anything like safe. He glanced briefly at the still breathing Nala, then at me again, then over the edge of the boat at the prehistoric threat.
The plesiosaur circled the tiny canoe, under and around, the length of the monster easily fifteen or twenty feet. I saw no chance for us if it registered in that tiny, dinosaur brain how easy it would be to capsize us.
We both stood, now, the brown man and I, each carefully following the submerged, circling beast as it flew through the depths. I held out the paddle before me like a sword, keeping it between me and the hungry beast that should have died millions of years ago.
My companion’s brown hand pointed, and I knew what he was indicating.
“It’s picking up speed,” he said, unnecessarily.
We watched as it moved faster and faster in a circle around us, then suddenly it dove, deep beneath the clear, blue-tinged waters. We could still see it, far below near the seabed, increasing velocity with each stroke of its massive flippers. Then—to our complete horror—it turned sharply and headed straight back up, directly at us.
“GET DOWN!” I shouted, and we both did, just moments before the thing exploded from the waters beside us, sailing inches above the boat, mouth open wide, right where we’d been standing.
Instinctively I swung the paddle and slammed it into something I didn’t see because I was hunkered down beside Nala’s body on the floor of our flimsy, hand carved, death trap. The boat jerked, and nearly
capsized, water splashed on the opposite side of us, and I felt waves coming over the edge of the canoe. One of the plesiosaur’s fins must have smacked against the canoe, nearly tipping us, and we took on several gallons of water before righting ourselves.
Nervously, the brown man and I raised our heads and peeked around in search of our attacker. Neither of us saw anything until its snake-like neck burst from under the surface again right beside us, and nearly snapped the brown man’s head off his shoulders. As it was he’d been nipped, and I saw blood spread across his cheek. I took another swing and slammed my makeshift weapon into the monstrous thing’s eye, it screeched and withdrew, but instead of dropping again beneath the waves, it simply arched its neck higher, one eye bleeding and glazed, mouth wide and hissing.
Recovering quickly, it shot its head down sharply, snapping at me. I swung again to deflect it, narrowly missing as it learned my game, and avoided my swings. Clear of my reach, it again arched its neck high and away, returning almost instantly after my weapon had past it. It arched in and out like that, striking repeatedly, tearing at my arms and shoulders; it could reach me easily, and I couldn’t connect in any meaningful way.
Then suddenly, the head stopped hissing, and it turned its attention toward shore.
No, not toward shore, toward the Angara.
The massive panther man had long ago stopped swimming, and now tread water about ten yards behind us, just absorbing the insanity that had played out before him. But now the plesiosaur had him in its sights, and he knew it. His eyes widened, he looked around trying to gauge if he had time to reach the shore, realized he didn’t, turned back to us and screamed.
And the plesiosaur dove. It’s entire body snaked furiously beneath the roiling surface of the ocean, heading straight for the Angara.
“COME ON!” I yelled, not even realizing what I was doing.
“What are you saying?” the brown man asked. “That’s an Angara, the servants of the Grigori!”
“I know. COME ON!” I repeated, waving my hands, and the Angara did.
The Hollow World: (Pangea, Book 1) Page 20