“Do not worry,” said Eargon Fooz when she realized our concern. “My people keep the paths clear of the killer plants. As long as you stay with me, you will be safe.”
I wanted to ask Maktel how far he thought we would have gotten without Eargon Fooz’s guidance, but decided against it. We didn’t need any more tension right now. Besides, he would probably claim she was making those comments about the path just to lull us into a false sense of security.
“Listen!” said Linnsy suddenly. “What’s that?”
“Waterfall,” replied Eargon Fooz once I had translated the question.
She should have said big waterfall, since when we finally saw it, far off to our left, we realized that it was several hundred feet high.
“It’s beautiful!” cried Linnsy. “Can we go closer?”
“That would be pleasant,” said Eargon Fooz, “but probably not wise under the circumstances. Right now it is important that we keep moving.”
Though she didn’t say it out loud, I knew our guide was concerned about Tim. I glanced at him, feeling a little guilty that I had not been paying closer attention to him. The green, veiny things on his arm were thicker, and getting brighter. His face, in contrast, was getting pale. He looked as if he were in pain.
“I’m all right,” he said when I asked him about it. But a few minutes later, when Eargon Fooz offered him a ride, he took it gratefully.
I was more glad than ever that she was with us when we reached the place where we had to cross the river. It was wild and white with froth as it smashed and splashed around enormous boulders. It was also about forty feet below us, since it traveled through a channel it had carved out over the centuries. It would have been nice if there had been a bridge across this chasm.
Alas, there was not—unless you’re willing to count a single log no wider than my head as a bridge.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” said Maktel when he realized our guide expected us to cross on this.
Eargon Fooz, clearly not willing to take his fearful reaction as speaking for the entire group, looked at Linnsy and me. Tim was still on her back; I could tell she was planning on carrying him across no matter what the rest of us decided. “Such a crossing is not something we can do with ease or confidence,” I said apologetically.
“All right. Then I will have to carry all of you,” she replied. “Wait here while I take your friend across.”
Eargon Fooz was a large being, her own body much wider than the log, and I was terrified for both her and Tim when I saw her leap onto it. But she moved with a delicate grace and was soon standing on the far side.
“Are you sure you don’t want to cross on your own?” she called back.
I looked at the bridge, then down at the smashing, roaring water. I knew that if I had no other choice, I would be willing to attempt the crossing. I also knew that, since I did have a choice, I would be insane to try it on my own.
“Please come and get us!” I called.
Tim crawled off her back, and she recrossed the bridge quickly and deftly. One by one she carried us across. I was the last to go, and I kept my eyes closed for about half the trip. I only opened them when I heard the others start to scream.
“Hold on!” ordered Eargon Fooz. She began to run. I flung my arms around her neck and held on as if I were trying to become a veccir with her. The Veeblax clutched my own neck with equal fervor.
Eargon Fooz’s sudden burst of speed caused the log to shift beneath us. I cried out in alarm, but Eargon Fooz was nimble, and the shifting bridge didn’t seem to bother her at all.
Or maybe she simply didn’t fear death.
I was feeling enough fear for both of us, terrified by the sight of the raging water that swept along below us, and also terrified by the frantic cries of my friends.
CHAPTER 10 [TIM]
IT’S NOT EASY TURNING GREEN
After Eargon Fooz had put me down and gone back for the others, I sat and stared at my arm. I felt sick with fear—not the stomach-lurching fear you feel when some sudden horrible thing happens, but the slow fear that comes when you sense lurking doom.
I was so involved in wondering if I was turning into a plant that I scarcely looked up when Eargon Fooz came back with Linnsy. But when she dropped off Maktel, he interrupted my thoughts by sitting down next to me and saying, “How are you feeling, Tim?”
He sounded really concerned. Trying not to show how much this surprised me, I said, “A little woozy, I guess, but not bad other than that. Except—” I stopped, then decided to take a chance. “Except I’m scared.”
“I would be too,” said Maktel quietly. “Well, actually, I am scared. But I’d be even more scared if…” He glanced down at my arm but didn’t say anything else.
I looked at him in surprise. Maybe he wasn’t a complete creep after all. I didn’t have time to think about that, because suddenly I felt a set of tiny claws digging into my neck. Springing to my feet, I heard a screech—and then cries of horror from Linnsy and Maktel.
Each of them was fighting off five or six little creatures that had swarmed onto them. The creatures, about the size of my hand, were covered with orange-yellow fur. They had enormous eyes and would have been very cute if not for their pointed, pushed-up noses. Well, that and their needle-sharp claws and teeth.
Suddenly the creature that had jumped onto my neck made a sound that I can only think indicated disgust. It leaped away and landed on Linnsy, who was desperately trying to swat away the ones already climbing over her. The little beasts clung to her, squealing in outrage, as if they were astonished that she would dare try to get rid of them.
I had been feeling weak and sick, but the sight of my friends being attacked brought on a surge of energy.
“You let go of her!” I cried as I grabbed one of the creatures attacking Linnsy. I wrenched it away. I was terrified by its snapping teeth and wondered if I would catch yet another alien disease if it bit me. But I couldn’t let it get Linnsy.
At first the thing struggled to get away from me. Then, suddenly, it went limp. I hurled the wretched thing into the bushes and snatched two more from Linnsy’s legs. They reacted the same way the first one had, struggling, then falling still. I flung them away but was horrified to see still more of the little monsters leaping out from the trees.
Maktel was batting at the ones on his legs, shrieking for help. I pulled two away from him. Same reaction.
Then another two dozen of the little beasts reached us. They leaped for Maktel and Linnsy, who stumbled and fell to the ground. I threw myself down and began plucking the monsters away, without time to wonder why I seemed to be immune to them.
Suddenly Eargon Fooz came galloping up. Pleskit was clinging to her back, looking terrified. Eargon Fooz threw back her head and made a sound unlike any I had ever heard—a high-pitched squeal that seemed to slice right through my head.
The creatures stopped as if frozen.
Eargon Fooz repeated the horrible sound.
The creatures scrambled off Linnsy and Maktel and began to back away, crawling slowly, never taking their eyes off Eargon Fooz. “Krimlikzl,” she said in disgust. I wondered if that was what the creatures were called, or if it was some swear word on this planet.
I began examining the pouch that held the oog-slama, suddenly terrified that the Veeblax-to-be might have been damaged in the fight.
Eargon Fooz continued to speak.
Pleskit translated:
“She says that the creatures are called krimlikzl. They are stupid and dangerous, and all the more dangerous because they are stupid. They are actually a tribe. They have a truce with Eargon Fooz’s people and are not supposed to attack them, or anyone under their protection.”
“What were they after?” asked Linnsy nervously. “Were they going to eat us?”
Pleskit translated the question for Eargon Fooz, listened to her answer, then said, “They were going to feed us to their babies. That’s why they didn’t bite you. They were saving you for late
r.”
“That’s gross!” cried Linnsy.
“Why didn’t they attack Tim?” asked Maktel. “They seemed almost afraid of him.”
Eargon Fooz hesitated. When she finally spoke, her answer filled me with fear, and a sense of doom.
“There is something in his body they do not like.”
What was this plant poison doing to me?
Though I had wanted to travel to other planets for as long as I can remember, wanted it so much that it kept me awake some nights, so much that I could feel it almost like an ache, that desire was nothing compared to how much I now longed to be back home, to see my mother, to let her take care of me.
To feel safe again.
What I did feel, suddenly, was exhausted, as if the battle had used up my entire supply of energy for the day. I groaned and felt myself begin to sway.
“Help him onto my back,” said Eargon Fooz.
I felt myself boosted up. I wrapped my arms around her long neck and leaned forward, trying to stay alert enough not to fall off as she moved into the jungle again.
Though none of them said anything, I noticed that Linnsy, Pleskit, and even Maktel were careful to make sure that at least one of them was never more than a few feet away from me.
At first this was a little annoying. But as the day went on, and I felt worse and worse, I began to appreciate their concern.
* * *
Several hours later, as the sky was beginning to grow dark, we came to Eargon Fooz’s village. It consisted of about thirty or forty circular houses, each about forty feet across and topped by a thick roof of leaves.
When we reached the edge of the village, a group of five creatures that looked like small versions of Eargon Fooz burst out of one of the houses and galloped over to surround us. They began chattering excitedly in what seemed to be yet another language. Eargon Fooz laughed and embraced them one by one, kissing each on his or her forehead.
“That’s so sweet,” whispered Linnsy, who was standing close beside me. (I was still clinging to Eargon Fooz’s back, of course.)
After a few minutes Eargon Fooz turned and said something to Pleskit, speaking in Standard Galactic.
“They are her children,” he translated—which was pretty much what I had figured.
Other villagers came out to greet Eargon Fooz, and to learn about us strangers. She answered a few questions—at least, I assume that was what she was doing—then pressed through the crowd.
“She wants us to meet her Significant Elders,” explained Pleskit.
These turned out to be the five oldest members of the tribe. They were gathered in the largest of the circular buildings, which was decorated inside with beautiful weavings made from vines and stems.
They looked startled when Eargon Fooz brought us in to see them, but they listened carefully as she told them our story. Then she pushed me forward so they could look at my arm.
They studied it carefully, shaking their heads in a way I didn’t like. After murmuring among themselves for a while, they spoke to Eargon Fooz, who translated what they said into Standard Galactic for Pleskit and Maktel, who then translated it again for Linnsy and me.
“They say you must go to the Worms of Wisdom,” said Pleskit.
“What are they?” I asked nervously.
Pleskit translated my question for the Elders. Their answer was not entirely satisfactory: “You’ll see when you get there.”
* * *
We couldn’t leave until morning, so that night the villagers had a feast in our honor. I would say that it was a vegetarian feast, but even though it seemed as if everything we ate came from plants, on this world the dividing line between plants and animals seemed pretty iffy. Some of the stuff smelled so bad, I couldn’t even try it. I noticed this did not stop Maktel, who ate a little of everything.
“Look at Maktel,” whispered Pleskit.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, thinking Pleskit was embarrassed because our companion was being such a pig. I’m glad I didn’t say that, because Pleskit’s next words were, “I wish I could eat that way.”
“Why?” I asked in surprise.
Pleskit seemed startled by the question. “Well, it is a very important skill for a diplomat. Sharing food is probably the most basic way that peoples connect everywhere in the galaxy. Therefore, the more foods you can bring yourself to eat, the better the chance you have of making a positive impression. Besides, a wide range of eating habits makes travel infinitely more pleasurable.”
If I hadn’t been feeling so sick, I might have taken that as a challenge. As it was, I let Pleskit direct me toward things he thought I would like. With his help, Linnsy and I were able to eat about a third of the foods our hosts served, including a thick stew that tasted of roast pork and was about as good as anything I’ve ever had.
After the feast we returned to Eargon Fooz’s house to sleep. Her children were romping around, wrestling and snorting, which was something that she seemed to enjoy watching.
“They have good energy,” she said contentedly. Then she called them together so that Pleskit could show them the Veeblax’s shape-shifting tricks, which made them all laugh. Then she gave each of them a light spank on the rump and told them it was time for bed—which, basically, meant finding a place on the floor that you liked.
After Eargon Fooz finally got her younglings settled down, she invited me to come and cuddle in between her and her littlest one, who was named Sidron Fuzzle.
I was glad to accept. I felt cold and sick, and I was very frightened by the way the green things on my arm were still growing.
What I really wanted was my mother.
Eargon Fooz was the closest thing I was going to find on this planet.
CHAPTER 11 [TIM]
THE WISDOM OF THE WORMS
The Worms of Wisdom lived in a cave at the base of a steep mountain. The cliffs that towered above the cave mouth were reddish orange and seemed to sparkle in the morning sun. Though I tried to walk, I was exhausted within half an hour after we started out, and rode most of the way on Eargon Fooz’s back.
Linnsy walked close beside us, watching me carefully.
To reach the worms we had to go deep underground, traveling through chilly chambers of stone that were connected by narrow tunnels that were like a series of beads on a string. The chambers would have been pitch black had not Eargon Fooz given each of my companions a small lantern with a wick that burned some sort of plant oil. I found myself hoping that the oil came from the same plants that had attacked us, hoping that Eargon Fooz’s people gathered those rotten pods and squashed them horribly to extract the oil.
After an hour or so we came to a mist-filled cavern. It was lit by thousands of dimly glowing, apple-sized spheres that drifted slowly through the mist, floating between five and ten feet above the bubbling lake that covered most of the cavern floor. Jagged towers of stone thrust up from dark water, rising so high that they were lost to sight.
Eargon Fooz slapped her hand against the wall and let out a cry that echoed through the cavern.
The water bubbled and churned. Suddenly thousands of tiny heads burst through the surface of the water, not more than four feet from where we stood. All four of us off-worlders cried out in surprise and stumbled backward.
“Alla imkim dibble kidit, Eargon Fooz?” asked the heads. They spoke in perfect unison, and though each voice was tiny, together they seemed to fill the stony space.
Eargon Fooz turned her long neck and said, “They ask why I disturb their rest.” (She said this in Standard Galactic, of course, and Pleskit translated it for Linnsy and me. From here on in, I’ll just give the translations.)
“We come seeking wisdom,” Eargon Fooz told the worms. “Also, to ask if you can heal the off-worlder who is turning green.”
“Let us see him,” said the worms.
Eargon Fooz took my arm, and I staggered forward, sick with fear and, frankly, just plain sick.
“Tell him to enter the waters,” said the worms.
When Eargon Fooz translated these words for me, I was faced with a choice of fears—my terror of the unknown poisons working in my body, or the fear of what might be waiting in that dark water.
I turned to Pleskit. Taking the sack containing the oog-slama from my shoulder, I passed it to him.
He nodded. Neither of us needed to say anything else. He knew that if I didn’t come back, I wanted him to take care of it for me.
“Good luck,” whispered Linnsy, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
Then I stepped into the water.
Instantly hundreds of worms wrapped themselves around my legs and pulled me forward. Within a few feet of the shoreline the bottom dropped off steeply.
I began to scream, but the sound was cut off as the worms pulled me beneath the surface. I struggled to break free, but they held me fast, and no matter how I thrashed and fought, I could not escape.
I did not struggle long. As they drew me deeper into the water, I suddenly heard their voices in my head.
Be still, be still, we will not hurt you.
That alone would have not been enough to keep me still. But at the same time something that looked like a glowing flower with fins swam up to me and pressed itself against my face.
Breathe, the worms thought to me. Breathe.
And I could! That reduced my panic, and I began to relax a little.
Something was glowing in the water beneath me. I nearly gagged when I saw that it was a writhing mass of worms—thousands, maybe millions of the things.
Why do you fear us? they asked. Before I could form an answer, they said, Ah, we see. Which was the first time I realized that they were not only sending thoughts directly into my mind, they were also reading my thoughts. You have no worms like us on the world from which you came. Oh, we find much conflict in you. And sorrow. Yet strange joy. Goodness, what an odd path you have taken to reach this place!
Snatched from Earth Page 4