Sasha felt her heart seize up in her chest and she feared she might start hyperventilating. “John?” She gripped the bars of the cage and leaning against them. “Dr. John Ulysses was here?” She thought maybe Muk was lying, that he had somehow plucked the name out of her head in order to frighten her. Then she rethought that. In his last letter, John had talked about the pictures he’d made on his Tuning Machine in the States. Was it really such a stretch of imagination to assume he’d created the same portal as she and found that he, too, could step through it? Among the “pictures” of the worlds she’d seen, this one was among the most beautiful. She could easily picture an insatiably curious John Ulysses stepping too close to the vortex in order to examine an exotic flower or a bizarre animal.
And that brought another important thought to mind. She hadn’t received a letter from John in over three months, which was very unusual. She hadn’t given it much thought until now, what with her father’s mad dash to see her engaged. She looked again at John’s pocket watch around Muk’s neck and felt her heart sink within her. “John’s dead, isn’t he?” she said. She didn’t want to say it. If she didn’t, and never made it back to her own world, she might be able to pretend that John was still alive in New York, still inventing devices. But she had to know. She couldn’t shield herself from the truth.
He is dead, probably, said Muk.
“What do you mean…probably?”
He went to fight She. He has not been seen since.
The actual name Muk used for whatever John had fought had no direct translation. It was like a goddess’s name in some foreign language, but no name a human mouth could form. Her mind had automatically filled in the blank. “She?”
Muk seemed to search for a name she would understand. The great one. The one who consumes. She is a warrior and, yes, a goddess. She has stripped our land of prey.
Sasha could think of only one creature. “You mean the Ceratosaurus?”
Muk wagged his head from side to side. Of course, he did not know the word. English words—even those from Latin and Greek—held no meaning for the Sen. So Sasha formed the picture of the vast creature in her mind, scooping up prey in her bloodied jaws.
She! Muk’s answer was immediate, full of fear and awe.
Sasha glanced at Quinn, wondering if it was possible they’d found an even greater bargaining chip. Quinn nodded her on. She turned back to Muk. “What you’re saying is that John went to fight…She, but never returned?”
Muk blinked once, slowly. Yes.
“Why would he do that?”
Muk narrowed his eyes. To earn his freedom, of course.
Of course. John would have promised almost anything to escape the Sen, as any sane man would. It made sense. Yet Sasha despaired. John must be dead. That, or John had used the opportunity to escape from Muk’s territory and travel on to other lands.
Muk’s eyes hardened as he reached for the pocket watch around his neck, fingering it with his clumsy set of claws. He told us that this object was of great importance to his world, a mighty weapon he must not be parted from, and that he would return for it after he had slain She. But he did not return. He lied.
Sasha nearly bit back a smile at John’s deception, which was just like him. “Or he died fighting She.”
Muk tilted his head. Perhaps. He did not sound convinced.
She took Quinn’s pocket watch in her hands. “As you can see, we too have a weapon of great importance.”
Muk made a warbling noise that Sasha immediately identified as a chuckle. It didn’t help that the pieces kept falling out of Quinn’s pocket watch. The young ones gathered round, licking their wet, teethy little snouts and eyeing them like they were the next course in a great feast. We are not fools, Muk informed her. We know these objects are of limited value. We will not be deceived again.
Quinn pushed to the front of the cage. “I understand you have trouble with…She?”
Muk narrowed his cold black eyes. She is stripping the land. The hunting is bad since She and her mate have come.
Sasha turned to glance at Quinn. “Is this like tribes in Africa?”
Quinn shrugged. Yes, no, maybe. “More like the British Colonies.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Once the colonization of Africa began, it drove the game further inland. It made prey scarcer for the indigenous tribes who live there. As a result, some have declared war on all Englishmen.”
“Hence the cannibalism,” she guessed.
“The cannibalism has been used as a scare tactic to hold back the Colonies. But Muk and his people genuinely need blood to survive. There’s precious little of that since She’s come.” Quinn narrowed his eyes slyly on Muk. “If we killed She for you, would you allow us safe passage out of your lands?”
Muk returned Quinn’s gaze with one just as sly. You would not kill She. You would only run away, as the man before you did.
“I give you my word as an Englishman.”
Muk looked unimpressed.
“My word as a lord among my people,” Quinn corrected himself. “If you release us, we will kill She for you.”
Toby swore under his breath. “Do you know what you’re saying, Quinn?”
“I’m trying to get us out of his mess, boy,” he answered neutrally, his eyes never leaving Muk’s face. “If you have a better idea, you might let me know about it.”
Muk considered him carefully.
Quinn gathered up the handkerchief containing their motley collection of items and deposited it outside the cage. “You have everything we own. Let us go and we’ll kill the creature and bring you its claw. You can wear it as a trophy. You will be powerful among your people.”
Muk considered the bundle of trinkets. Then he turned his ice-cold gaze on them.
Sasha felt her heart lurch. She wondered if it was enough. She prayed it was.
Muk seemed to smile. Or maybe it was a snarl on his face. It was difficult to tell the difference. You will not return for these small things. We know. We learn. You will return for your own kind.
Muk nodded, once, satisfied. You and the female may leave the mountain to kill She, and you will bring me the claw of She as proof. He turned his ferocious gaze on Toby. But the boy stays with us.
CHAPTER 9
“You do know you can never marry Toby?” Quinn said after the two of them had been deposited at the foot of the Sen’s mountain. He glanced up at the brutal red morning sun riding high above the peak of the volcano. “Your father simply won’t allow it.”
Sasha ignored his statement and started trudging out into the endless jungle that stretched green and fecund in every direction. She knew it was best to pay absolute attention to her surroundings, but she couldn’t help but see Toby’s face in her mind as she’d left him alone in that despondent little cage. His last act had been to give her a long look of concern, not for himself but for her, and the memory of it haunted her. It made her want to call the Sen back, to beg them to fly her back to him, even though she knew they were his best chance for freedom.
She stopped to watch Quinn break a long, sharp branch off a tree. It was almost perfectly straight. He hefted it, testing its weight. In this primordial world, she doubted a long stick would offer much protection, but she couldn’t bring herself to say as much.
Quinn tested it as if it was a javelin, hurdling it at the trunk of the tree he had taken it from. He hit it dead center and watched it clatter down. “Toby has no station,” Quinn added, helpfully pointing out the obvious. “The arrangement would be ridiculous and inappropriate.”
Now he had crossed the line. “My father isn’t here, Quinn,” she said, impressed with how steady her voice was. “In lieu of a guardian, I shall have to make my own decisions from now on.”
Quinn picked up his homemade javelin and turned to look at her, lifting an eyebrow with something like admiration. “Well said, little Sasha.” He reached out to take her hand, to help her over some rocky bits of ground. “We should be of
f now.”
“I can take care of myself!” she said angrily, shaking off his touch. Quinn had no right to speak to her so forthrightly! And he needn’t help her; she was more than capable of taking care of herself. All she needed was a stick. How difficult could it be to learn to throw it? She rooted around the ground, coming up with a much smaller one than Quinn sported. It wasn’t much protection, but it was all she had. She took a step without aid and stumbled in her heeled slippers, almost falling on her face.
Quinn caught her at the shoulders, steadying her on her feet. She looked up into his face. It wasn’t a handsome young face like Toby, tanned and classical. Quinn could never be described as handsome. He was too gaunt and strained and unhappy for that. But he had a striking, unforgettable face. A determined face. And there was a lean strength in his arms, she decided. When he wasn’t dead drunk, he was very strong. And he seemed to have a good eye for the javelin. He eased her back, then dropped to one knee before her like a man about to propose in a romance.
“What are you doing?” she asked in dismay.
Quinn took her debutante dress in both hands and ripped it soundly up the middle. Sasha flinched. Without saying a word, he gathered each half of the dress around her ankles and started tying it, making improvised harem trousers for her. “This will be more practical for the journey ahead. And will protect you from insect bites in the jungle. Your legs are already covered in bites.”
Sasha felt her ears burned. She’d no idea that Quinn had seen her legs, or that he was looking.
When he finished, he stood up and gave her his arm and an unexpected smirk. “We need to work together, Sasha, or your young man may never be free. We need to trust each other. If we don’t work together, we’ll never survive this world.” He took her arm, looping it through his own. “There’s no shame in requesting help.”
“It’s not that.”
He waited patiently for her to explain.
But she couldn’t. It felt odd to be relying on Quinn…Quinn, of all people! It should be Toby here with her, Toby she was relying on. How had she wound up with the odious man her father had chosen for her future husband? All right, perhaps Quinn wasn’t exactly odious…but he certainly wasn’t dashing, handsome, or even witty. He was nothing like the suitors she had read about in books. In fact, he seemed the antithesis of that in every way.
Quinn offered her that brief, insouciant smirk of his. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, little Sasha?”
“No!” This time she clutched his arm, feeling his warmth through his sleeve. “I’m not a child!”
“No, Sasha,” said Quinn, looking her up and down. “You are most certainly not a child.”
CHAPTER 10
“Which way do you think She went?” Sasha asked once they were in the thick of the jungle and surrounded by birdcall and giant flying insects. She brushed a low flying dragonfly away, hoping Quinn knew which direction they were walking. It all looked the same to her.
“She was going west, thus I suggest we go west too.” He stopped to examine an animal print stamped into the mud, much too small to be She, but perhaps one of her victims. “I’m sure we’ll pick up her trail soon.”
Sasha nearly shuddered at the thought. “Can you tell which way is west?”
Quinn glanced up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “We’re lucky, Sasha, in that your world only appears to have one sun. Assuming the dynamics of astronomy are the same here as in our world, then we’re walking west, into the setting sun. Of course, a compass would be of great assistance now.”
“It’s not my world,” Sasha protested.
“You discovered it. It’s Sasha’s World.”
“Don’t tease.”
“I’m sorry. I do apologize.”
They started walking again, following the animal tracks, the long grasses and shrubs flattened by the weight of its passage. The path was as wide as a coach path—probably made by something coach-wide, she reflected with another shiver—and made traveling much easier. The jungle licked at them on all sides, ferns and flowers brushing their faces, strange birdcalls echoing like a cacophony far above. The entire jungle was redolent with flowers she had never seen before, and insects she did not recognize. She kept reflexively grabbing at Quinn’s arm, terrified that he might disappear right in front of her, leaving her utterly alone on this strange primordial world. Sasha’s World, as he called it.
“Any idea as to how we’ll kill She when we find her?” she asked.
“We’ll think of something.” He didn’t seem to mind her walking close to him, clutching his hand. He didn’t shoo her away or make any disparaging comments. After some time, he said, “You’re very worried about Toby, aren’t you?”
“Of course I’m worried. We’ve no idea if Muk will keep his promise. His people might hurt Toby while we’re gone.” She thought of what the young Sen had done to those ape-men and shivered again, despite the heat soaking through the back of her dress and making her corset painfully tight about her ribs. It was so hot it hurt to breathe.
“Muk seems honorable enough, and his people respect him. I don’t think he would betray a trust. He seems keen on folks keeping their word.”
“Muk is a monster.”
“Is he?” Quinn tilted his head as if sniffing the air. “I find him a rather extreme chap, but not entirely unlikable.”
“Are you mad?”
Quinn turned and looked at her. “At least he was willing to negotiate. If he was a monster, he and his brood would have disposed of us by now.”
“I expect you’re right.”
He patted her hand reassuringly where it rested on his arm, his touch lingering perhaps a few seconds longer than was appropriate. “Sasha?”
“Yes, Quinn?”
“I’m sorry about what I said. About all this being your fault. Of course, you could not have foreseen any of this.”
That surprised her. “You were right,” she said, feeling a lump form in her throat. “It is my fault. My folly. I was naïve.”
“When I was your age, I felt much the same way.”
“What happened?”
He stopped to check the alignment of the sun. “Africa happened.” And that was all he said.
They started down the animal path again. “You were very young when you went to Africa,” she said, making it not quite a statement.
“My father took me there to help him work the tobacco plantation. He did not want a lay about for a son. He felt it would be good for my education.”
“Why didn’t you stay?”
Quinn hesitated, resettling his improvised javelin on his shoulder. He seemed to calculate a response. “I grew tired of it? Yes…perhaps. After all, London was my home.”
He was lying, but she didn’t understand why. “So Sasha’s World is like Africa.”
“Nothing is like Africa.”
They moved on. The sun sank lower against the horizon. The air grew heavier, cooler, with the onrushing evening. A few miles into the jungle, as the shadows began to lengthen and the sound of chittering day creatures gave way to the lowing of night predators on the prowl, Quinn steered them off the animal path and into the jungle proper, the tall underbrush switching their faces.
“Is this a very good idea?” she asked, brushing away a spider clinging to her dress.
“It’s better than staying on that path near nightfall, when whatever made it comes up out of the river to feed.”
He had a point. “I didn’t think of that,” she said in admiration.
Quinn smirked. He never smiled, but his smirk made his face seem younger, however briefly. “If we’re stuck here for some time, you will.” Without waiting for a response, he released her arm to reach into his boot and withdraw a large-bladed knife, not a machete, but something like a Bowie knife like they had in the Americas, with a worn and scarred ivory handle. She thought of his cufflinks, which had been made of elephant teeth. The Bowie was likely real ivory. Quinn started cutting down the tall, dry yellow g
rass in their way, using a swinging motion that he seemed to be very much at home with. Sasha noticed that the landscape was slowly transforming from jungle to more of a primordial grassland dotted with tall horsehair conifers that were long extinct in their own world. Dark, rocky formations rose in the far distance as they approached what seemed to be a dormant volcanic range.
“Did you clear your father’s lands as well?” she asked as she watched Quinn work up a good sweat under his dirty white dress shirt and waistcoat.
“My father didn’t own many slaves, so yes. After he was gone, Gabrielle forced me to release the rest.”
“Gabrielle?” she asked.
He hesitated mid-swing, then continued downward, cutting a swath through the dry grass with renewed vigor. “There’s a mountain range only a half mile or so away. We can find a cave and set up a camp there. It’ll be good shelter for the coming night.”
Planet of Dinosaurs, The Complete Collection (Includes Planet of Dinosaurs, Sea of Serpents, & Valley of Dragons) Page 5