Blood River Down

by Lionel Fenn

  Its wingspread was fully ten feet across, its head slanting back to a double-pronged point, its beak hooked out and down over a mouth that opened wide enough to swallow a sheep. Its talons were extended, its eyes platter wide, and Gideon decided the ekklers would be mosquitoes compared to the thing that was about to take off his head.

  Then Red reared, and Gideon gaped.

  The lorra when extended was a good twelve feet tall, and its hooves when the hair fell away were like claws themselves. It challenged in a tiger-like roar that made Gideon scuttle back quickly and apparently made the diving bird think twice about attacking.

  But it was too late.

  It was too large and moving too fast, and in a blur Gideon found almost impossible to follow, Red's right front hoof broke one of the bird's wings at the base, and its horns and head slammed into the thing's exposed breast. There was a scream. There was a roar that reverberated off the slope. Red was driven backward by the force of the collision but stayed on his hind legs, vigorously working his horns deeper into the bird's mangled chest, dancing to the side and using his hooves to drive off, then snap off the bird's talons.

  A pause as Red sank back slightly, hesitated, and leapt forward, pulling down his head and landing on his front legs, driving the dying predator onto its back. Then he disengaged his horns and began a methodical, unrelenting trampling from head to tail that included the all-too-clear sounds of bones snapping and splintering, of flesh tearing, of blood running, until Gideon turned away and folded his hands over his stomach, retching, his eyes watering.

  When his distress and the bird's screams ended, he stayed where he was, gasping, until he heard hoofbeats on the cobbles. Only then did he turn, and saw Red waiting for him, kneeling, looking, spatters of blood on his hair.

  "Aw, Jesus, Red," he said, and staggered to his feet, hurried over, and combed quickly through the coat with his fingers, looking for injuries. He found none worse than a scratch, and his relief had him bury his face in the lorra's neck.

  Red purred.

  Gideon swung onto his back, said the magic word, and they continued up the road for the next hour, watching both the sun in its descent and the sky in its blankness. At a fort-like configuration of four boulders, he suggested, politely, that they stop for the night. He had seen the mark of the stream beyond, and Red, spying the berry bushes, moved straight toward them.

  Gideon knelt on the bank and splashed water over his head, blowing and laughing when Red did the same.

  They drank. They ate berries. And they walked to the space in the middle of the boulders, where Red curled his legs under him and Gideon lay with his head on the lorra's side.

  Nightfall came swiftly.

  And Gideon slept soundly until, somewhere past the middle of a nightmare, he woke in a daze, heard nothing, and saw nothing but a pair of red eyes.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gideon yelled hoarsely and threw up an arm to protect himself, then scrambled hastily away from Red, who was lurching clumsily to his feet, a deep cat-like growl thundering in his throat. There was a moment of confusion and disorientation before Gideon was able to clear the sleep from his eyes, and when he did the red eyes were gone.

  A dream, he thought, and knew it was wrong because he had seen them once before, the night Glorian had been taken, and he had thought that was a dream, too.

  "I think," he said to no one in particular, "I don't want to stay around here anymore."

  With further sleep out of the question, he noticed that the sky was beginning to lighten and knew that dawn was only a few minutes away. He groaned, rubbed the night's cold from his arms and legs, and staggered with the lorra to the stream, where he ducked his head under the water, drank, and shared the last of the berries with his companion. Then he climbed on Red's back, and they returned to the road, heading for the notch.

  The day brightened, but the sky was filled with a low grey overcast that cast rippling shadows on the ground ahead of them. He preferred not to look at them or speculate on what it might have been that had been watching him while he slept. Try as he might, he could not determine if those eyes were animal or human; they were a definite red, dark and slanted upward, but he sensed an intelligence as well, and though he shuddered at the memory, neither could he determine if he'd been in danger or not.

  It was a puzzle.

  But then, this whole damned place was a puzzle, and he might as well be blind for all he knew about it, and his place here.

  They reached the notch shortly before midday, and Gideon dismounted stiffly to let the lorra graze while he stood in the center of the road, rubbing his shoulders thoughtfully while he considered his next move.

  The gap he faced was high-walled on both sides, each wall a precarious jumble of massive boulders and fallen rock, and once between them he noted apprehensively they would be easy targets for anyone, or anything, hiding above. As far as he could judge, and reminding himself that he was no judge of distance at all, the narrow passage followed the side of the mountain for at least four or five hundred yards, then swung to the right, probably to drop down the other side.

  And that was the rub.

  He had come all this way because it seemed the simplest way to go, yet he had no idea what lay beyond or even if he should be going there. He chastised himself again bitterly for not being alert when Glorian had needed his help, wished there was someone he could talk to, to ask advice of. Red was a good sort for a giant goat-like creature, but talking to him was like talking to a wall.

  Still, he couldn't think of anything else to do; so, calling Red to him and explaining what was up, he mounted, took hold of the beast's hair, and they entered the notch.

  The wind increased before they were a dozen yards in.

  It boiled down the irregular rocky slope and snapped at his face, tangled his hair in front of his eyes, and penetrated his clothing as if he were naked. He shivered and leaned forward, hoping to gain some warmth from the lorra's luxurious coat, then decided to ask if the animal might, if he were of a mind, move a little faster. Red evidently didn't mind at all; he broke into a trot that nearly tossed Gideon aside, then into a loping run that made him suggest further, and loudly since he had to be heard over the wind, that getting one of them killed before they reached their destination was not precisely what he had in mind.

  The lorra, however, was not to be stopped now. He had gotten into the spirit of the thing and was determined to see them on the other side of the mountain in less time than it took Gideon to complain that he was never going to see it at all at this rate.

  Halfway through, the wind nearly blew him from his seat.

  Three-quarters of the way to the far side, Red had to gather himself into a masterful leap over a fall of rock and stone, and Gideon, clutching the animal's neck hysterically and getting as low as he could without actually burrowing under the lorra's skin, was amazed at the grace it showed for such a large creature. Formidable, he thought, and concluded it would be a hell of a cavalry ride during a battle. He doubted there was much that would be able to stand in its way.

  The road began to curve north and down, and the notch's south wall began to shrink until there was nothing left but a few rocks lying along the narrow verge. At that point Gideon wished aloud and angrily that Red would knock it off and stop, which the lorra did, in such a short space that actual sparks flew up from his hind hooves. Then Gideon dismounted, patted the animal's neck in gratitude, and walked to the edge of the precipice he faced.

  The road, as he had guessed, continued on to the right for another hundred yards before slanting back to plunge down the far side of the mountain. Where he stood, however, there was a drop he estimated at easily a thousand feet, if not more, and he wasn't exactly sure what to make of the view.

  Almost directly below was a wide white-water river that appeared out of a dim, misty haze to the north and vanished into the same many miles to the south; it was marked by a broad band of intensely green woodland on either bank, with breaks here a
nd there that indicated regularly used crossings, though he could see no evidence of ferries or bridges. Beyond the river was a vast sullen plain that stretched flatly to the far horizon, itself masked by still another haze, smoky and tinged with dull yellow and deep blue.

  "I think," he said thoughtfully, "I may have picked the wrong direction."

  There were no cities that he could see, no isolated villages or clutches of homes such as the one he had left behind. Were it not for the low brown grass, the plain could easily have been a desert.

  "This," he said to Red when the lorra moved more closely to him, "is not promising at all."

  Idly he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out two slightly flattened berries. He popped one into his mouth and gave the other to the lorra. Then he looked down at his feet and shrugged.

  "On the other hand, this road is man-made, so to speak, and has to go somewhere."

  It did.

  It swept them down to the base of the mountain and ran along the outskirts of the river woodland until, at the first of the breaks he had seen from above, it swung right again and took them to the water. There was no bridge, nor were there any signs there ever had been one here, but a quick wading test proved that the swift-rushing water was less than a foot deep, at least in this place, and they forded it without difficulty, picked up the road again, and found themselves outside the woods on the edge of the plain. The grass was indeed brown, and low, and sharp-edged enough to slice his skin neatly when he reached down to pluck up a blade. He yelped, scowled, and decided that nothing short of an elephant would be able to cross it with some semblance of impunity.

  Another mile, and he discovered he was wrong.

  His first clue came when Red began to act peculiar, snorting and tossing his head side to side, spending more time watching the motionless plain than the road. When Gideon leaned over to stroke his wide neck in hopes of calming him, he saw that the creature's eyes were slowly turning black.

  Not, he thought, a good sign.

  He wondered if it was the mere fact of the plain. It was certainly eerie enough—the sharp-bladed grass rock-like in its stillness despite the occasional breeze and gust of wind, the length of it, the breadth of it, monotonously the same color and giving off not a single scent that he could pick up, nor a single sound that he could hear. Nothing lived out there, and nothing resembling a knoll or a hillock broke its surface all the way to the horizon.

  Yet the lorra edged itself closer and closer to the lefthand verge—so close, in fact, that the reach of the trees soon had them in shade. Gideon didn't dispute the animal's instincts, but he would be damned if he could see anything amiss. Nothing changed, all was the same until, the road following the angles of the woodland and river, they rounded a sharp bend.

  Then something moved on the plain.

  —|—

  Red stopped and backed toward the woods, his head down and horns at the ready. Gideon, not wanting to be aboard when whatever was going to happen finally happened, slipped off and stood near a bole that was, he noted, considerably wider than he.

  The ground trembled slightly then, and he saw a large mound of grass begin to rise, black earth spilling away, then splitting, then falling away completely as the creature beneath it hove out of its burrow into the air. Red grumbled deep in his throat. Gideon eased farther around the tree and watched openmouthed as the creature shook the remaining bits of dirt from its body and paused to look around.

  Well, he thought, I was right about the elephant. Sort of.

  It had the bulk and height of a pachyderm, but its dark grey hide ranged back from a broad triangular head in folds much like scales that merged into a tail-like appendage it kept arched over its flat back; the head itself was on a short, muscled neck and was broad at the base, where a slash of a mouth slavered and gnashed, and at the apex narrowed to a horn that curved frontward between the wide saucers of its eyes.

  Red was set to charge when Gideon whipped out a hand and stayed it with a touch.

  He waved at the thing, and it didn't move.

  He stepped into the open and waved again; it didn't move.

  The creature was blind, or at least blinded by the light. Its head swung in a slow searching arc while its broad nostrils flared and snorted, hunting for the scent that had brought it out of its lair. The arched tail trembled. When it took a short step forward, the leaves overhead quivered and husked.

  Gideon kept his gaze on the thing as he backed slowly away, tugging at Red's hair to pull the lorra with him. It was no digging beast, he thought as he put another tree between himself and the plain; there must be burrows underground, a network of them, created by something else that permitted the thing to travel from one place to another. Its teeth marked it as carnivorous, its agitation at being unable to locate them marked it as hungry and getting frustrated, and the tail fully as long as the main body slowly lowered until it thumped repeatedly and lightly on the ground.

  The thing moved again, this time sideways, the tail beating the grass harder, sending a hollow booming across the plain that sounded like thunder making its way over a mountain.

  Red pawed the ground, and Gideon reached for a horn and with an effort tugged its head around, pulling now and trying to get it to follow. It resisted, then complied, and they hurried toward the river and followed the high bank south, the booming now behind them but still clear until, as they detoured around a thorned thicket, it stopped abruptly.

  And was replaced by the sound of the thing crashing through the woods.

  Gideon listened only a second before leaping onto Red's back and digging in his heels. The lorra at first thought they were going to meet the enemy head on and began a weaving charge that took them back the way they'd come. He yelled, he pulled, and finally he managed to plead his case politely and urgently enough that Red veered sharply and thundered south again, dodging the trees and underbrush until he reached the road. There he lengthened his stride in a single bound that almost threw Gideon off before he was able to stretch out along Red's neck and hold on, glancing over his shoulder to see the thing return to the plain ahead of a pair of trees it had snapped off at their base.

  Gideon wondered if it could run.

  It could, but only for a few steps before it lowered its head in exhaustion and lumbered back on the grass, where it pounded a hole in the roof of its burrow and climbed down, the last thing visible the blurred sweep of its tail.

  The lorra ran on, and the trees became a green wall, the plain a smear of dirty brown.

  Gideon closed his eyes against the wind caused by their passing and tried to clear his mind, to let time pass without a single image interfering, without a single speculation or examination diluting the only thought he wanted to hang on to—that of not falling off and being left behind.

  It didn't work.

  He suddenly wondered if on its home ground, under the surface, the thing could move faster than when it was out on the road. It had to be possible, otherwise it would never be able to catch its prey, unless its prey was so stupid as to let itself be trapped and caught. Or maybe it didn't need to eat all that often. Maybe its system was efficient enough to hoard and allocate the food it took in for the optimum effect; maybe all it had to do was be patient, and let its appearance paralyze its prey long enough to make a move.

  The ground to his immediate right exploded upward.

  Red growled again and galloped even faster.

  The thing trumpeted at them as it surged furiously from its burrow, ran a few steps, and hurried back to the grass.

  The road ducked back into the woods, and just as they reached the curve the thing bellowed again, spinning on its hind legs to swing its tail, which hummed over Gideon's head and cracked a tree in half.

  Persistent sonofabitch, he thought without an ounce of admiration, and hugged Red's neck more closely, glad they were under the woodland canopy for a time while the road found its way to the river and followed the bank. Red slowed and began panting, a fleck of foam
appearing, then flying away from the corner of his mouth. Gideon saw it and urged the lorra to slow up, that as long as the trees were around they didn't have to rush, only hurry without dawdling. Red seemed to understand and paused once at a collapsed portion of the bank to drink his fill before moving on at a fast walk, giving Gideon an opportunity to straighten and take a deep breath that somehow failed to bring him anything remotely like a sense of relief.

  The booming started again.

  He wondered if there might be more than one of those things in pursuit, the winner getting the ears and tail and the rest the flank steaks.

  The idea was discomforting enough for him to tell Red to leave the road when it plunged back into the trees again and stick to the riverbank. The going was slower but safer, and he knew he wasn't going to be happy until that confounded drumming stopped sending its message.

  "Well, damn," he said, and looked behind him. "Damn, I think I've got it!"

  Red bobbed his head.

  Gideon permitted himself a deserved moment of preening.

  Then a tree they passed shattered, and a branch knocked him senseless and into the river.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Given a choice, Gideon decided he would rather die in bed of old age; the river, however, had placed limitations on such dreams, and he flailed in the frigid water, amazed that it had gotten so deep when the fording area had been comfortingly shallow. He was not a good swimmer, but he knew enough to kick upward toward the surface and not attempt to fight the current. As it was, he was being swept along at a considerable rate, and when he was finally able to break into the air, gasping and sputtering and gulping for a breath, he saw nothing but the trees on either bank; Red was gone, the burrow-thing was gone, and if he didn't make his way to shore soon, he would be gone as well.