The Dark and Forbidding Land

by Wesley Allison

  Saba could actually see down the tyrannosaur’s throat, when he was knocked out of the way by the heavy body of Eamon Shrubb. They both rolled onto their backs, firing almost straight up at the monster, which had skidded to a stop virtually on top of them. It reached down and bit another member of the fire team in half, though Saba couldn’t tell if it was Manring or Cornish. He emptied his clip and popped in another, his last. Just as he began firing again, he saw from the corner of his eye that Shrubb was doing the same thing. Where was their help? Why weren’t the men at the top of the hill shooting at this Kafira-cursed thing? Then the third tyrannosaurus rushed past the second and up the incline toward the other men. Saba and Shrubb both fired again and their beast finally crumpled.

  “After this one, mate!” shouted Shrubb jumping up and going after the third dinosaur.

  Saba followed. They moved up a dozen steps, shooting as they went. The creature reared up and fell back toward them. Saba jumped to the side just as the dinosaur rolled over the spot he had just occupied. Then he saw yet another tyrannosaurus at the top of the hill. It had a body in its mouth, which it tossed into the air and snatched back, swallowing it down. Saba emptied the rest of his clip, moving up as he did. Just as he fired the last of his ammunition, the beast crumpled to the ground.

  “Are there any more of these bastards?” yelled Clark, as Saba reached him.

  Saba didn’t look around for more dinosaurs. He knew others were doing that. Instead, he looked around the ground, finding the lower half of a militiaman he couldn’t identify with a partially full ammunition pouch, he reloaded his rifle. Only then did he scan the surrounding area. There were no more living tyrannosaurs. There were seven dead ones through. They had been concentrating on the two that they had tracked, and had been ambushed from both sides.

  “Alright, who’s left?” asked Amoz Croffut, reaching the top of the rise.

  He was the sole survivor of his fire team. Haarhoff was dead. Nearby, the lizzie, Tassy, was lying on the ground, hissing pitifully. The flesh from most of his back and his entire tail had been ripped off of his body. Croffut shot the lizardman in the head.

  “He would have asked for it, if he could have,” he said when Saba looked at him.

  “Yeah.” Saba felt more sorry for the lizzie than he did the Bordonian hunter.

  “There’s not much of Willy left,” said Manring, limping up to the others, his leg bent at an odd angle. “I can’t find Eamon at all. The thing must have swallowed him whole.”

  “No, no,” said Saba. “He was right next to me.”

  Running down to where he had last seen the private, Saba called out “Shrubb! Where are you?” He looked around the body of the beast that had almost rolled over him. Sticking out from beneath its side was a booted foot.

  “Eamon!”

  The foot moved.

  “Get over here! Everyone!”

  It was all the remaining seven men, some of them injured, could do to lift up the belly of the creature enough that they could pull the man out from beneath it. When his face appeared, Shrubb took a deep breath.

  “Kafira, I couldn’t breathe under there.”

  “Can you walk?” asked Saba.

  “I think so, if you can help me get up. My chest hurts like anybody’s business.”

  The group hadn’t yet returned to the furthest reach of Bay Street, when they were met by a full platoon of militiamen on their way to find them. With so many hands to help carry the injured, they were able to reach the base by dusk. The building that had been designated the company hospital became a flurry of activity, with the local acolytes Sister Auni and Brother Galen, along with Dr. Kelloran working to aid the wounded. Croffet, Clark, and Saba were the only members of the expedition with no serious injuries. Manring’s leg was broken in several places and Eamon Shrubb had a broken clavicle and four broken ribs.

  * * * * *

  Senta waited by the fire, warming herself, until the kettle whistled. She removed the kettle and took it to the kitchen, transferring the hot water to the teapot and dropping in the infuser, which she had already loaded with tea. She stood waiting, her mind dulled by the remnants of her headache, and probably by the after-effects of an adrenaline rush. At last, she took her cup and scooped three spoonfuls of sugar and poured her tea, though it was still scarcely darker than water, and sat down in the comfy chair. She had not yet taken a sip of her tea when the door opened and Zurfina came in.

  “Is there more tea?” she asked.

  Senta pointed with her teacup.

  “It’s not very dark,” said the sorceress, once she had poured hers. “Are you sure you put enough in?”

  “It’s not very dark because our tea isn’t very good,” said the girl. “One would think the world’s greatest sorceress could afford proper tea leaves instead of having to make do with the fannings.”

  “If you want better tea, order better tea,” said Zurfina. “I’m not stopping you. Surely it can be had. After all, we’re closer to Mallontah than Sumir.”

  As she took a sip, Senta felt a stinging and reached up to find dried blood caked around her nostrils. She scratched some of it off bringing tears to her eyes.

  “Tomorrow I want to show you a bit of divination.”

  “I thought you didn’t like divining.”

  “It’s not my favorite part of the arts, but it is good for your skin,” said the sorceress. “Conjuring can be… well, you’ll find out. You know you look out of sorts. Are you feeling alright?”

  “No.”

  Zurfina waited for a moment, and when no further information was forthcoming, she asked. “So what is the matter?”

  “I was almost eaten, if you must know.”

  “Oh no. Not again.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what was it this time?”

  “A tyrannosaurus.”

  “Oh my. How horribly uninteresting.”

  “No, not just one tyrannosaurus, two tyrannosaurusesuses.”

  “Now you’re just making things up.”

  “I am not!”

  “Well, in any case, it’s not much of a story. I myself was once almost eaten by a hydra…”

  “Yes, I know. With nine heads.”

  “That’s right, nine heads. Nine heads. With nine heads you’ve got a story to tell. So until you’ve been almost eaten by a hydra with nine heads, or I suppose almost been eaten by nine of those tyrannothingies, which if I’m not mistaken have only one head each, don’t try to make out that you’re all that special.”

  “I didn’t say I was special, you batty twonk! You asked me!”

  “Well, now you’re just being difficult.” She started toward the stairs. “Finish your tea and then go take a bath. You have dirt and blood all over your face.”

  * * * * *

  Eamon Shrubb suddenly loomed over the bunk where Saba had been lying all morning reading. One would never have known that he had been injured from the way he moved. He looked a bit stouter than he actually was, owing to the thick wrapping of bandages around his torso. Saba watched Eamon’s face and could read his thoughts as he decided whether to try and sit down on the next bunk, eventually opting to lean against the support pillar instead.

  “Are you sure you should be up and around already? After all, a dinosaur fell on you.”

  “Two days in bed is more than enough for me. How is your book then?”

  “Better than I thought it was going to be,” said Saba.

  “What’s it called?”

  “The Man who Loved his Gardener.”

  “Doesn’t sound very good.”

  “Well, the gardener is a woman.”

  “Oh.”

  “And she’s not really a gardener. She’s a prostitute.”

  “Are you almost done with it?”

  “Almost.”

  “I’ve never been much of a reader, but…”

  “Thinking of broadening your horizons, are you?”

  “Now would be the proper time, don’t y
ou think?” asked Eamon. “I’m on light duty for the next four weeks.”

  “What would you say to a bit of a luncheon?”

  “I generally don’t talk to my food,” replied Eamon. “Are you going to the governor’s house?”

  “I was thinking that I would.”

  “I’m going to have to bow out in that case,” said Eamon. “Don’t feel like walking that far.”

  “How about a trip down the hill to the fish and chips cart?”

  “I don’t want you to miss out.”

  “Believe me, I’m not missing anything… besides the food, I mean.”

  They walked down Seventh and One Half Avenue to the dockyards, where the food carts had been doing business for some time. Dockworkers and crewmen from the ship in port, the Vaterland, as well as some other militiamen had already procured their meals and were busy tucking in. Saba and Eamon both ordered fish and chips, but then failed to locate a place to sit down and eat. Wandering north past several large warehouses, they came to the edge of the land that had been set aside as Augustus P. Dechantagne Park.

  The land in the park was not yet prepared. None of the proposed walkways or fountains or fruit trees had been put in. But right at the edge of the still undeveloped area was a very large pile of very large wooden crates, one of which was open and sitting right next to it was a brand new park bench.

  “Look at that,” said Eamon, stepping quickly over and sitting gingerly down.

  “Think it will hold both of us?”

  “If it holds me it will hold both of us, Corporal Beanpole.”

  Saba sat down.

  “I suppose we’re the first two people to sit on a bench in the park,” he observed.

  “Actually, I am the first person to sit,” replied Eamon, before taking a big bite of golden fried fish. “You’re the second.”

  “Unless whoever unboxed this sat down on it to check it out. I would have.”

  “Why are you trying to steal my thunder? I deserve to be the first one to sit on this bench, and for that matter, you deserve to be the second one. After all, we just killed some dangerous dinosaurs. We’re like heroes.”

  “Yes,” replied Saba. “Not heroes, but like heroes. Um, speaking of the dinosaurs, thanks for that. You saved my life.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes. You pushed me out of the way just in time.”

  “Well that was lucky, wasn’t it? Are you going to eat your fish, or not?”

  “Yes, I’m going to eat it. I feel bad about Willy… the others too, but Willy was a good egg. I guess he wasn’t the main character in his book after all though.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, he said he was the main character in a book somebody would write some day about his life.”

  “Bit of an ego, eh?”

  “I suppose. I kind of envy that feeling of superiority. I sometimes feel like I’m not the main character in my own story.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, look at it. Here I am among the founders of the colony—the Dechantagnes. I’m just the son of the cook. The main character in this story would be the governor, or Yuah… um, Mrs. Dechantagne. That would be a good story. Or how about Zurfina?”

  “There are men in this colony, you know; even in the Dechantagne family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’ve just listed off the important women in the colony.”

  “Alright, there are men too.”

  “One would think you were fixated.”

  “I said alright.” Saba frowned.

  “You need to get yourself a girl, that’s what you need.”

  “Shut up,” said Saba.

  Chapter Fifteen: The Tea Party and After

  Looking back on it, Senta thought that Zurfina had done exceptionally well in providing her with a white dress. As she walked to Egeria Lusk’s house though, all she could think about was how it made her look even younger than normal. It was a white lace knee-length dress that fit over a white ankle-length underdress. She had matching white stockings and white boots, and she carried a lace parasol. She met Graham, his sister Gaylene, and their parents in front of Finkler’s Bakery, where they were waiting for Aalwijn.

  “That’s a nice dress Senta,” said Gaylene.

  She was about a head taller than her younger brother, whom she greatly resembled. They both had light brown hair and very large teeth. She was dressed in a lovely white day dress that must have just been purchased from Mrs. Bratihn’s, trimmed with yellow lace and small yellow hearts. Mrs. Dokkins, who was wearing a similar, grown up version of the dress, as always was smiling pleasantly, despite the fact that she had been unable to get her husband into the proper clothing for the occasion. Mr. Dokkins had on a clean white shirt, a pair of dungarees, and a straw hat.

  Aalwijn, in his best shrine clothes, soon joined them. He looked from one girl to the other, not sure to whom he owed his attention.

  “Come on,” said Mr. Dokkins. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Graham stuck a finger into his stiff collar and tugged. “There’s an idea.”

  They met Hero and Hertzal in front of Miss Lusk’s house. They were both dressed in their usual grey and white clothes, simple, unadorned, but well maintained.

  “Good morning,” said Hero, glancing shyly at Aalwijn, who was completely oblivious to her presence.

  “Keep moving,” said Graham.

  Egeria Lusk met them all at the step and guided them in. The front door opened into a foyer, and then led through a large arched walkway into the parlor. Both rooms were exquisitely decorated with hand-carved wooden moldings, golden drapes, and beaded chandeliers, but were sparsely furnished. In the center of the parlor sat several pieces of rattan furniture. Lawrence and Etta Bratihn and Laird and Dora Luebking were already seated, sipping tea. Mayor Korlann entered from the back, carrying a tray filled with another pot and two stacks of teacups.

  “Zeah, stop that,” demanded Miss Lusk. “The lizzies are supposed to be serving, not you.”

  “Chunny,” she called to a big lizzie following him into the room. “Keep the mayor out of the kitchen.”

  The lizzie nodded.

  “Come along with me,” she said to the new arrivals. “The Bratihns and the Luebkings have already had the tour.”

  She led them through the two-story mansion. It was more richly decorated than anything any of them had seen, and while the rooms downstairs were still mostly devoid of furniture, the upstairs was filled with antiques and finely crafted birch and cherry wood furnishings. By the time they had returned to the parlor, the rest of the guests had arrived, so Miss Lusk led the Parnorshams, the Darwins, the Wissingers, the Dechantagnes, and Professor and Mrs. Calliere on a similar excursion.

  Once everyone had been shown around and had been fed finger sandwiches and biscuits, games began. Miss Lusk had invited only couples so that they could play table games, and the games had been arranged around the room. They played draughts, dominoes, fox and geese, and boiler fancy. A good time was had by all, and in the end, they all agreed that Miss Lusk was the most skilled, defying at every turn the mayor’s apparent attempts to let the other teams win.

  Afterwards, more tea was poured and the older guests fell into small conversational groups, while the children continued playing. Iolanthe found herself with Egeria Lusk, Mrs. Bratihn, and Mrs. Luebking.

  “I do believe that Yuah is avoiding me,” said the red-haired hostess. “She hasn’t said a word to me since she arrived.”

  “Don’t take it personally,” said Iolanthe. “I believe she’s under too much stress. She’s constantly complaining of a headache.”

  “Married life will do that to you,” said Mrs. Bratihn.

  “It’s not for everyone,” agreed Mrs. Luebking.

  “Maybe I’ll send her around for another dress,” said Iolanthe. “A new dress or a new hat always makes me feel better.”

  “She’s bought quite a few dresses lately,” said Mrs. Brati
hn. “But…”

  She and Mrs. Luebking looked at one another and said at the same time. “Shoes.”

  When the two had moved on to talk with Mrs. Dokkins and Mrs. Parnorsham, Egeria took Iolanthe aside.

  “I’ve had a letter from a friend of mine in Portsmouth,” she said. “She tells me that our friend Lieutenant Staff has been promoted to Lieutenant Commander.”

  “Indeed,” replied Iolanthe coldly. “Why would you suppose that I would be interested in that?”

  “No particular reason. Just that he was on our ship. It’s always nice to hear the news about an acquaintance, even if he is only an acquaintance, and nothing more.”

  “Yes of course.” Iolanthe pursed her lips. “If you have any other news about him… or any other ships officers we may know, you may tell me.”

  Yuah and Terrence were speaking with Zossef and Magda Wissinger. Yuah knew the middle-aged couple quite well from shrine, but her husband had until now not met them. They were from Freedonia and had arrived the year before on the first ship that Iolanthe had chartered from that country.

  “Your sister is a very wonderful woman,” Mrs. Wissinger told Terrence. “She is helping many people, sending ships to help refugees escape.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “She’s always been the giving sort.”

  “Terrence is being modest,” interjected Yuah. “He’s just as much a part of it as she is. It’s a family enterprise, and it’s really his money...”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you something ever since Yuah mentioned knowing you,” Terrence interrupted. “Are you related to the writer Isaak Wissinger?”