Dinotopia - Dinotopia Lost

by Alan Dean Foster

  He waited while Chaz translated. All that growling and grunting must put a terrific strain on the throat, Will reflected as he listened admiringly to the Protoceratops’s eloquent efforts. He tried to remain poised as the tyrannosaurs exchanged seismic rumblings of their own.

  At last the male lowered his head and nudged Will’s chest with his snout—gently, so as not to knock the human down. Will stumbled backward a few steps but didn’t fall and quickly gathered himself.

  “What’s the problem?” he whispered anxiously to Chaz. Keelk held her ground nervously, watching the tyrannosaurs’ every move and saying nothing.

  Chaz hastened to inquire. “Crookeye says that he doesn’t see why they need our help. He doesn’t see what we can do for them. He says ... he says he doesn’t understand why they shouldn’t make a quick snack of us and be on their way.”

  “A fair question.” My, but it is hot here, Will thought. And not giving any indication of cooling off anytime soon. “Go on; translate that.”

  Looking as though he’d already resigned himself to spending the evening in the stomach of a distant relation but not knowing what else to do, Chaz complied with his friend’s request. Will continued.

  “Tell them that without us they wouldn’t have any idea of what’s happened to their daughter. Tell them that no matter how big and strong they are, there are some things we can do that they can’t. Humans understand tools better than any dinosaur, and if it becomes necessary to parley with these intruders, they’ll need the services of a translator. As for Keelk, if it wasn’t for her, none of us would be here.” As an afterthought he added, “Tell them also that there’s hardly enough meat on the three of us put together to put a dent in their appetites. I’m bony enough myself to stick in their throats.”

  “Anyone who thinks tyrannosaurs have a sense of humor is more than a little crazy.” Despite his uncertainties, Chaz translated Will’s response exactly as given.

  “Tell them also,” Will added when the Protoceratops had finished, “that no matter what they think, we’ll be of much more help to them alive than digested.”

  It was just as well that the tyrannosaurs could not smile. Such a display of teeth would not have been reassuring. But in response to Chaz’s speech they both straightened slightly. To maintain eye contact, Will was forced to tilt his head back until his neck throbbed. It was like watching a pair of tall buildings converse.

  Shethorn growled down at him. Will wanted to cover his nose but didn’t dare, afraid that the tyrannosaurs might recognize the gesture.

  “She says that they’ve had dealings with humans before but that they’ve never encountered one like you. Our boldness in entering the Rainy Basin without any kind of armored escort has impressed them.” The Protoceratops lowered his voice slightly. “I’ve always heard that the big carnosaurs respect courage. That doesn’t mean that they’re averse to consuming the courageous.”

  “What else did they say?” Will prompted his friend.

  Chaz sucked in a deep breath. “They said that if we can really help them find their daughter, then they will be forever in our debt and*that even if you never pass this way again you will be able to number at least three of their kind among your friends.”

  “Excellent.” Will gazed evenly back into feral yellow eyes as the male tyrannosaur continued to growl softly.

  “They also say,” Chaz continued, “that if we’re wrong about all this and we lead them down a false trail and as a consequence anything bad happens to their daughter, they’ll hold us personally responsible.”

  “Tell them that I understand, and I accept the condition.” “It doesn’t matter anyway,” the Protoceratops mumbled to himself. “It’s not like we have anything to lose.”

  “No, it isn’t. Their daughter’s name is Prettykill?”

  Chaz translated and listened closely to the rumbling response. “Yes. They’re very fond of her and they miss her very much.”

  “Tell them that Keelk misses her family as much as they miss their daughter. So they have something else in common besides both being bipeds. Tell them that we have to move quietly. We don’t want to do anything to startle or alarm these humans. If they’re the kind of people I think they are,

  they won’t hesitate to maim or kill their captives if they think it’ll be to their benefit.”

  The Protoceratops's translation sparked a savage snarl from the mother tyrannosaur that chilled Will’s blood. It was completely terrifying even though it wasn’t directed at him. Keelk’s head drew back almost to her shoulders and Chaz was visibly shaken. He could almost feel sorry for Prettykill’s captors. To envision oneself the target of such unimaginable fury was almost inconceivable.

  “They’re also impressed with Keelk’s boldness,” Chaz added.

  “So am I.” Will’s gaze shifted from one tyrannosaur to the other. “What do you think, Chaz? Can they be trusted?”

  “Do we have a choice?”

  “I mean, what happens if they wake up in the middle of the night and feel the urge for a quick meal? I’ve heard that carnosaurs have short memories.”

  The frilled head turned toward him and its owner managed to sound slightly superior. “That won’t happen. There’s a lot you don’t know, Will, because you haven’t lived here long enough. The meat-eaters have their own rough code of ethics. They won’t eat someone they’ve made a compact with. They might grow irritable or angry or impatient, but they won’t forget. They’ve given their word. You needn’t worry about waking up in someone’s belly.”

  “Then we’re safe.” Will finally summoned a smile.

  “Not entirely.” The ever-cautious Protoceratops corrected him even as he translated for Keelk. “These are Tyrannosaurus rexes we’re dealing with here. We’d best hope that nothing untoward has happened to their daughter.”

  “If anything has, it’s not our fault.”

  “That won’t matter to them,” Chaz replied knowingly. “However, you have managed to convince them that we need each other. So everything is indeed all right... for now.” The Protoceratops turned to the male, who was grumbling impatiently at him.

  “Crookeye says that they’ll do the tracking. Their sense of smell is better even than a struthie’s.”

  “Perfectly agreeable.” Will took a step forward. “We should formalize it.”

  “Formalize it?” Chaz succeeded in frowning with his voice.

  “You know. The usual gesture of agreement?”

  “Ah, you mean this?” The Protoceratops raised a forefoot and Will placed his palm firmly against the flat pad.

  Following the demonstration and Chaz’s growling explanation, Will approached Shethorn. With not a little trepidation he extended his hand, palm outward. Grunting, the female bent low and turned slightly to her right in order to keep an eye the human. Reaching out with a powerful forearm, she touched the base of the twin claws to his soft human hand.

  At the contact a shiver of excitement ran through Will. For all he knew, this might be the first time in Dinotopian history such an exchange had taken place. Fie sensed the enormous lower jaw hovering just above his head. The touch concluded, he stepped back.

  Crookeye was snarling insistently at an uneasy Keelk and Chaz hurried to reassure her. “Breathe deep. He just wants all the information you have on these humans who have so outraged common convention.”

  Keelk nodded reluctantly, her respiration slowing. Through Chaz she began to relay everything she could remember about her captivity. The two tyrannosaurs listened closely. Aside from the unnerving intensity of their stares they betrayed no reaction.

  When Keelk had finished, each of them touched a snout to the ground in front of her. Separating, they began to sweep the soil with their sensitive nostrils, their great heads swinging from side to side as they searched for any hint of their daughter’s presence ... or that of unidentified humans. Will watched in fascination.

  Nearly ten minutes later Shethorn straightened, growled gently, and gestured with bot
h head and right forearm to the southeast.

  “That’s the way,” the Protoceratops declared.

  “You didn’t have to translate that,” Will admonished him. Chaz simply gave his human companion a look.

  As they carefully traced the faint scent trail through the rain forest, the tyrannosaurs stopped frequently to sniff the ground, bushes, and anything that might retain a lingering odor. Occasionally they would engage in brief, grunting conversations

  Chaz would not bother to translate. Then they would resume tracking.

  These brief pauses were welcomed by Will and his friends, who could not begin to match the effortless, earth-spanning strides of their new companions. It was a struggle even for Keelk to keep up, and Chaz was having a seriously difficult time of it.

  At least they didn’t have to worry about trying to follow a marked path. The tyrannosaurs made their own road. As the old Dinotopian saying went, “Where does a tyrannosaur go? Anywhere it wants to.”

  Despite their best efforts they eventually fell behind, Will doing his best to help Chaz, and Keelk having to slow down to remain with them. Shethorn looked back and growled impatiently.

  “Look, I’m sorry!” Will was panting hard, and poor Chaz was nearly done. “We can’t go any faster.” It occurred to him that he’d just spoken sharply to an always irritable tyrannosaur, but he was so tired he didn’t care.

  Crookeye rumbled at his mate, then spoke to Chaz. The Protoceratops was grateful for the opportunity to translate. It meant he didn’t have to run.

  “They’re saying—let me catch my breath, Will—they’re saying that they recognize that we are having trouble keeping up with them, but that you said yourself time was of the essence.”

  “I know, but what do they expect us to do? Fly? A skybax rider needs his skybax.”

  “They are willing to sacrifice dignity in order to expedite matters.”

  Will frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

  Chaz nodded at Shethorn, who was kneeling and lowering her head. “They want us to ride.”

  “Ride? Ride them?” He’d thought riding Cirrus, his skybax, was the greatest thrill anyone could have. And any of the larger dinosaurian citizens of civilized Dinotopia were quite happy, under most circumstances, to provide helpful humans with individual transportation. Many carried saddles and harnesses specifically designed for the purpose.

  But to ride a Tyrannosaurus rex ...

  Crookeye had crouched down alongside his mate. Now he growled his impatience.

  “They want us to get on with it,” Chaz elaborated.

  “I can see that. Tell them ... tell them that we’ll give it a try.” He started toward Crookeye while Keelk advanced tentatively on the waiting Shethorn.

  Even crouched low, the two tyrannosaurs presented a difficult proposition. How was he supposed to mount? Keelk had sharp claws on her hands and feet with which to climb and grip. Will was good in trees, but there were no convenient branches here. No place to put his foot....

  Crookeye’s jaws parted slightly and he gave Will a slight, encouraging nod. Trying to avoid looking down at those six-inch teeth, Will put one foot on the edge of the lower jaw and gripped the horny projection above the tyrannosaur’s right eye with his left hand. Kicking off and pulling, he found that he could swing his other leg up and over. It wasn’t very different from mounting a horse, which he’d done as a child in America. The only different was that he was seating himself across a head instead of a back.

  That, and the fact that his current mount could have any horse for breakfast.

  He saw that Keelk had chosen a position on Shethorn’s neck, just behind her head. With her claws and talons the struthie could just hang on, maintaining a strong grip without penetrating the thick therapodian skin. Having no such built-in hooks, Will would have to find a way to sit.

  Crossing his legs beneath him, he balanced himself near the center of the skull, which was more than broad enough to provide an adequate seat. The horny projections above each eye made serviceable handles. Thus positioned, he rapped the top of the skull with the palm of one hand.

  Instantly he found himself rocketing skyward as Crookeye stood up. From his new perch fifteen feet above the ground, the forest looked very different. A brachiosaur rider would have an even more expansive view, but not the same feeling of absolutely invulnerability. It was a heady sensation even though he knew nothing in Dinotopia (or anywhere else on earth, for that matter) would dare confront his mount.

  Easy, he reminded himself. He’d been granted a unique privilege. It could just as quickly be withdrawn.

  Looking to his right, he saw that Keelk was comfortably attached to Shethorn’s neck. But Chaz presented a problem. The stumpy Protoceratops possessed neither Will’s simian agility nor the struthie’s natural gripping apparatus.

  The impatient tyrannosaurs solved the dilemma themselves. Bending down, Shethorn gripped the reluctant translator behind his forelegs and lifted him easily. A tyrannosaur’s arms are stubby but very powerful, and she had no trouble holding him. Though reasonably comfortable, Chaz found the actual position, hanging as he was with backside dangling toward the ground like that of a human infant, highly unbecoming.

  “Relax.” Will fought to suppress a grin. “No one’s going to see you. And if they did, they wouldn’t laugh. Shethorn might think they were laughing at her, and I don’t know anybody who’d take that chance.”

  “This is most undignified.” Chaz was not mollified.

  Will worked to keep his balance as Crookeye started forward. So smooth was the tyrannosaurs’ stride that there was very little up-and-down motion. The slight side-to-side jostling was not uncomfortable, and he soon got the hang of rolling with each step. Before long they were racing instead of walking through the forest. Buttressing roots, thick vines, depressions and rises, small creeks and ponds flew past beneath him.

  Let’s see a brachiosaur rider do this! Will thought ebulliently. The combined feeling of speed and security was positively intoxicating.

  As they raced through the rain forest, the two tyrannosaurs paused from time to time to perform their scent checks, but the pace of the pursuit picked up exponentially. Not only that, but since he no longer had to exert himself, Will could relax, let his leg muscles recuperate, and enjoy the sights that were flashing past. It was a unique and probably unprecedented way to explore the Rainy Basin.

  He’d expected more bouncing, but the only time he was nearly jolted from his perch was when the tyrannosaurs unexpectedly cleared a deep creek in a single jump. The landing on the far side of the stream, cushioned as it was, still nearly sent him flying, and only a last-minute grasp of the eye horn on his right kept him from taking a serious tumble. Thereafter, he paid more attention to his riding and less to passing scenery.

  He’d seen pictures of Arabians riding their camels. His situation was more analogous to that of a Hindu mahout, perched grandly upon his pachyderm’s supercilious brow. Gaining confidence with each successive giant stride, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and pushed out his lower lip, disappointed no skillful daguerreotypist was present to permanently immortalize his pose.

  Nor did he lack for entertainment, as Chaz maintained a running commentary on the ignominy of his position.

  Birds and the smaller inhabitants of the forest understory fled from his approach, screeching and screaming as they rushed to get out of the way. Though under complete control, to anything in their path the two sprinting tyrannosaurs must have given the appearance of a pair of runaway locomotives.

  Rain forest sped past on either side, a kaleidoscope of brilliant flowers anfl colorful bromeliads and darting insects. While he noted each of them in passing, he was more concerned with the occasional low branch that loomed suddenly out of the oncoming verdure. More than once he was forced to duck low, feeling the leaves and branches stroke his hair in passing.

  Beneath him the great organic engine that was Crookeye thundered along effortlessly, coveri
ng huge chunks of forest with each stride. Occasionally Shethorn paced her mate, other times she fell in behind.

  A pack of half a dozen ceratosaurs was working on the half-consumed carcass of a recently deceased protosauropod when the searchers burst upon them. Instinctively the ceratosaurs turned to defend their food, only to flee at the sight of the onrushing tyrannosaurs. Disdaining the carcass, Crookeye and Shethorn rumbled past, leaving the baffled ceratosaurs to emerge from hiding only after their much larger cousins had passed.

  If there was any drawback to the extraordinary experience, other than the unfortunate insects that occasionally splattered against his face and chest, it was that Will could not escape the fetor of the tyrannosaur’s breath. Not that he was about to venture any criticism. Only a most unwise person would criticize a tyrannosaur to its face. A late, unwise person, Will decided.

  From time to time he would lean to his right and peer down at a saucer-sized yellow eye, which would roll up to look back at him. He always smiled and offered words of encouragement, wondering as he did so if they had any effect.

  As to one discovery there was no doubt, however. Like most dinosaurs, the tyrannosaurs loved music, and Will’s early musical education had not been neglected. It developed that Crookeye and Shethorn were particularly fond of Liszt, Berlioz, and traditional marches.

  Most unexpectedly, Will had found another use for his skill at whistling.

  XV

  “these humans are crazy!” Tryll whispered.

  “I know.” Shremaza did her best to calm her daughter. “We can only hope that Keelk will bring help, or that the opportunity to escape will come also to the rest of us.”

  The four struthies were tied to two trees. As always, their captors had fed and watered them conscientiously. Damaged goods, as Blackstrap so calmly put it, never fetched as high a price as those that had been well cared for.

  Having seen to their more docile prisoners, the pirates proceeded to the far more delicate task of feeding their most difficult captive. With great caution the thick hawser line that secured the young tyrannosaur’s jaws was unwound. It was the first time since its capture that they had ventured to feed it, and everyone was being more than usually cautious.