Far-Seer (7 page)

The prey was ideally situated for the attack. About fifty paces away, it had walked partway into a loose stand of trees. Hamadajas had unbranching bone-white trunks that exploded into leaves only at their tops. The trees were evenly spaced, forming a natural pen for the creature. Only the tapering tail stuck out, free of obstructions.

Tetex looked left and right, sizing up her team. At last, she held up her arm and gave the rapid hand chops that signaled the attack.

Stealth was no longer required. The only easy way out of the valley was back up the hillside, and that was the direction from which the nine Quintaglios were coming. Tetex let out a roar, the massive sound erupting from her chest. She charged, back parallel to the ground, tail flying out behind.

Afsan followed. He was surprised to find himself roaring in excitement, too. The ground shook as the seven others charged, as well.

The thunderbeast’s head was buried in the leaves. That would muffle its hearing, buying them a little time before the giant creature would respond.

Suddenly the end of the neck swung around, the tiny head and the dull brain within reacting slowly to the nine puny creatures barreling toward it. Afsan could see the black eyes — obsidian black, the most intelligent-looking thing about the animal — go wide in astonishment. The beast began to back away from the trees, each footfall sending a tremor through the ground. Afsan looked over his shoulder. Chubby Dybo, his gut in the running posture barely clearing the soil, was bringing up the rear.

Tetex was first to reach the thunderbeast. She leapt onto the animal’s right flank just ahead of the rear leg. Her claws dug like pitons into the mountain of its abdomen. Rivulets of blood ran down the thing’s sandy hide. One of the other experienced hunters arrived next, his greater stride letting him outrun Afsan. He, too, leapt onto the beast, his jaws digging into its flank. Afsan watched in amazement…

— which was a stupid thing to be doing. Suddenly, out of his peripheral vision, he became aware of a beige wall barreling along, slicing the air with a massive
whoosh
. The tail — no thin line from this close, but rather half the height of Afsan himself — came toward him. He turned and ran, trying to get out of its way, but it struck him from the rear, knocking the wind from his lungs.

His vision exploded into patterns of light. He felt himself being lifted up, knocked flying by the impact, and, heartbeats later, saw the ground far below. Afsan brought his arms up to cover his face. The hard ground rushed toward him…

…and all was blackness for an instant.

His whole body ached. He had landed in shrubbery, the thorns scratching his hide. His right leg hurt as he put his weight on it.

He was now thirty paces from the thunderbeast. The monster was slapping its side with its tail, attempting to dislodge the tiny Tetex. Several other members of the pack had secured themselves to the beast’s side and were ripping chunks of flesh from it. Even round Dybo was gnawing at the thing’s right rear ankle.

By the prophet, this was a monster! Afsan had never heard of a thunderbeast so big. Perhaps they had bitten off more than they could swallow whole.

No, thought Afsan. He would not fail at his first hunt.
He would not
. He tipped forward into the running posture and rushed toward the beast.

The ground was slick with blood. The creature, still very much alive and fighting, had many small rips in its belly, although, as yet, the internals seemed intact.

The thunderbeast’s tail flicked again, and Afsan saw one of the other youngsters — Punood, was it? — go flying the same way he had. But Punood had received a more vicious blow. Even over the pounding of his own footfalls, Afsan had heard the cracking of Punood’s bones as the tail impacted, killing him instantly, and, moments later, the splat as his corpse slammed against distant rocks.

I won’t be distracted.
Afsan clenched his teeth, feeling the uneven interlock of their serrated tips.
I won’t look back.

The beast lifted its right forefoot. One of the older hunters had been maneuvering to get at the soft flesh beneath the shoulders, but now the round footpad with its five stubby claws was coming down upon her, the circular form casting a shadow on the hapless Quintaglio. In a few moments, she’d be crushed to death. The hunter began to run, but the leg, like a giant hammer, pounded down. It missed her body, but pinned her tail. Even at this distance, Afsan heard the snap of vertebrae. The Quintaglio’s legs went out from under her, and she slammed chest-first into the ground. The thunderbeast realized it had done only half a job, and lifted its left forefoot as a prelude to bringing it down to stamp the life out of the prone hunter.

Chubby Dybo, tendons from the thunderbeast’s rear ankle hanging like reeds from his mouth, rushed into the scene. He spat the tendons aside and with one massive chomp sheared through the downed hunter’s tail just below where it joined her torso.

The thunderbeast’s foot smashed down, kicking up a cloud of dust. When the view cleared, Afsan could see that the formerly pinned hunter had made it to safety several tens of paces away, the stub of her tail bright red with her own blood. Dybo, too, had managed to avoid the crushing foot.

The thunderbeast was confused about what had happened. Afsan was close now, very close.

When you charge, think of what angers you,
Tetex had said before the hunt.

Saleed.
Afsan inhaled deeply.
Abominable Tak-Saleed.

He folded his legs beneath his torso and pushed up with all his might, divots flying from the ground as he leapt into the air.

Afsan tasted his own blood as he slammed into the beast’s right front leg just above the knee. He scrambled, digging in claws for traction, pulling himself higher and higher up the massive thigh. The hide was tough, and he had to kick to get his claws to pierce it, but he was making progress.

The beast apparently sensed something in this new attacker. It bent from the hips, rising up on its hind legs. Afsan had heard that thunderbeasts could do this, especially when the forefeet were balanced against the side of a tree, to reach particularly lofty vegetation. But in a desperate effort to save its own life, the animal had found the strength to surge up without such support. Afsan felt wind flow over his body as the beast’s torso rose into the air.

Afsan dug in, desperately holding on. Surely the creature could maintain this semi-erect posture, with its tail bent at almost a right angle, for only a few moments.

A few terrifying moments…

.

The animal’s front crashed down, the forelegs pounding the dirt. Over his shoulder, Afsan saw that Tetex and two others had been knocked off the beast’s side, and one of those two didn’t look like she was going to get up again. Afsan turned his attention back to the beast. Its flesh spread out in front of him like a wall. He scrambled up onto the shoulders.

The neck curved up in front of him, dizzyingly, rising into the sky like a giant beige snake. It measured twelve times Afsan’s own body length. He looked back. Hunt leader Tetex had leapt onto the creature’s side again. She’d ripped a gaping hole through the pebbly skin and was at last getting at the entrails. The beast’s tail swung wildly left and right, knocking hunters off as it went. Afsan could feel the mountain of flesh beneath him expanding and contracting with each breath.

Suddenly everything moved again, and Afsan feared he would become nauseous. The shoulders bounced, almost tossing him off. The creature was walking, desperately trying to find some way to escape.

The surrounding trees limited its mobility, but it had apparently spotted a path through the grove. Afsan felt muscles rippling beneath him as it marched forward. Once out of the stand of trees, it would be able to roll on its side, crushing Tetex and the others.

Once again, Afsan conjured a vision of his master, Saleed. Strength grew within him, power pumping through his blood vessels. He stretched his arms wide, digging claws into the massive base of the thunderbeast’s neck. His arms encircled only a tiny portion of it. He pulled himself up, dug his toe-claws in, reached his arms farther up the neck, and pulled up again.

Off the shoulders now…

He dug in again; pushed farther up, feet ripping into the flesh for traction.

Again.

Again.

Afsan could feel the creature’s pulse, a rapid beating beneath the thick hide. Again he reached up the neck, again he pulled himself up, shimmying his way.

The beast was making good progress toward the clearing. Small tree trunks snapped as it barreled ahead. Afsan pulled, pulled, pulled, afraid to look down, afraid to see how high up he now was.

The neck was tapering slowly; Afsan’s arms encircled it halfway now. But the tiny head was still dizzyingly high above him. He climbed harder.

Suddenly the thunderbeast’s front end was free of the trees. The creature swung its neck in a wide arc. Afsan did look down now, and screamed. The ground swept by in a blur, air whipping over his body. He continued to climb, clawing. Blood from the wounds made by his hands flowed down the snaking tube, making it harder for him to get traction with his feet.

The neck swooped down. Afsan saw the ground swelling upward. Then the neck swung back up, and Afsan felt his ears pop. He clawed ahead.

Another swoop. Another painful popping. Diving down, swinging up, dizzying, dizzying…

Fingerclaws on his left hand clicked against those on his right. He could now encircle the entire neck.

The neck swung to the left, and Afsan saw the beast’s brown and blue abdomen looming in. But before he could be squished against it, the neck reached the limit of its flexibility. It swung back to the right, curving outward, sweeping Afsan inrough the sky.

The head was only a small distance away now. The squared-off snout was visible as the creature’s face swung from side to side, the giant black eyes, bigger than Afsan’s fists, batting opened and closed. The thunderbeast let out a scream, in response no doubt to Telex’s handiwork far below. Afsan could feel the neck expand and contract as the low rumbling erupted from the animal’s throat. He gave one massive pull iand brought himself to the end of the neck. The head, ridiculously tiny on a beast of such bulk, was smaller than Afsan’s own torso. It spread out before him, wrinkled. The beast’s nostrils, high on a dome of bone between the eyes, flared uncontrollably. The creature’s mouth, still open from the scream, showed pink innards and peg-shaped teeth.

Afsan loosened his grip so that he could slide around to the underside of the neck. There he opened his jaws wide, as wide as they could go, his left and right mandibles popping from their sockets, and with all the strength he could muster he chomped down on the soft flesh on the underside of the neck. The thunderbeast gasped. Afsan bit again and again, cutting through the neck at its thinnest spot. Blood geysered out of the widening cavity, liquid crimson fists beating against him.

Another massive bite, and then another, and another. Afsan felt hot air rush out of the hole he had made, forced out by the bellows of the creature’s lungs, far, far below.

Craning, Afsan could see that the beast’s nostrils had stopped flaring, that its black eyes had closed for the final time. All at once, Afsan felt the rigidity go out of the neck and, like a massive flexible tree trunk, it came hurtling toward the ground, air rushing about him as it did so. Just before the neck hit, Afsan leapt off, lest he be crushed beneath it. He kicked away with all the horizontal force he could muster. While still airborne, he heard and felt the thunderous slam of the great weight of flesh as it hit, and then everything went silent as Afsan himself smashed into the dirt.

“How is the eggling?” Tak-Saleed’s voice betrayed no special concern as he looked down at the unconscious Afsan, lying flat on his belly on a marble surgical table, the youngster’s head stretched out so that the bottom of his jaw was against the cold stone.

Most denizens of Capital City had left to enjoy the spoils of the hunt — more thunderbeast meat than many of them had ever seen in one place. But Saleed, giant and ancient, was too old and too slow to go so far for a meal. One couldn’t unequivocally interpret his having stayed behind as showing any particular worry about his fallen apprentice, and yet he had come here, come to the hospital, where those trained in medicine did what they could for the hunters who had been injured during the day’s spectacular kill.

Unfortunately they couldn’t do much. Oh, they cleansed wounds with water. Some lacerations were wrapped with leather. Broken bones were braced with splints. Mangled extremities were cut off with twist-saws so that they could be regenerated. The saws were different from the cleavers Pal-Cadool used; these wrenched and tore so that blood vessels would seal. With a simple severing, a Quintaglio would bleed to death.

But, excepting bruises and minor cuts, Afsan’s limbs were intact. His injuries were internal, to the head and torso. It was known that the sap of certain plants could relieve infections, that holding a
makaloob
root in the mouth might reduce nausea, that the venom from some lizards if applied in moderation could deaden pain. But to rouse one knocked unconscious, one who’d had a ladle of blood spill from his right earhole, one who even now breathed shallowly — that was a matter beyond doctor or priest.

Saleed switched from looking down his wrinkled muzzle at Afsan to facing the doctor, Dar-Mondark. Mondark seemed deep in thought, working his lower jaw backwards and forwards, the clicking made by pointed teeth passing over each other an audible indication of his cogitation. At last he answered Saleed’s question. “He has been unconscious since they brought him back from the site of the kill. His shoulder took the brunt of his fall — see the bruising there? — and we have shifted his shoulder blade back to where it should be. But the side of his head was also banged severely. We tried placing
halbataja
leaves on his brow. That helps about one time in twenty, but there was no response.”