How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex (30 page)

Lenna halted when he reached the stone walkway. A single, shrunken bud clung to a bush beside the path— a last reminder of a long summer and of the long winter to come. He pulled it from the vine, its withered bulk crumbling between his fingers.

Lenna buttoned his coat and strode down the walkway and down the road toward the settlement of Tyrie. Flashes of light interrupted the darkening night behind him, and golden flames leaped upwards toward a reddening sky.

CHAPTER
 
5 (The Yaakmen of Tyrie)

Q
uintar emerged from the Yaakrider Barracks to a predawn sky speckled with fading stars. Wearily, he slung Shila’s harness across his shoulder and began the familiar trek up the eastern path, passing through forest drawing darkness equal to deepest night.

Upon the sprawling hillside, the Yaakman exited the path into a clearing occupied by colossal platforms bathed in flickering torchlight. Lying in shadow beyond the torches stood Tyrie’s storehouses— a series of enormous buildings used as a central repository of the settlement’s surplus grains and other staples. A procession of overflowing carts, pulled by snorting Zampha-beasts and piloted by hooded drivers, emerged from the fog-laden valley below. One by one they clomped up the well-worn path, halting amid a cluster of brooding laborers and robed expediters.

Quintar looked above and to the east, in the direction of the Yaak colony commonly called the West Meadows by the people of Tyrie. A kilometer into the forest stood hundreds of massive shapes constructed of branches and mud. The creature’s colony was reputed to extend deep into the forest, although humans were, by tradition, ever mindful of entering or disturbing the beast’s domain.

Suddenly, Quintar saw several gigantic figures emerge from the forest’s shadow bordering the Meadows. Noiselessly, they lumbered past Quintar— a solemn procession of imposing forms against the brightening woodland.

The male Yaakraya were first to appear. Used to transport goods between settlements, they were considerably less intelligent than their female counterparts yet three times more massive. Quintar recognized a few of the beasts from previous runs, although he’d found distinguishing the Yaakraya more and more difficult as winter approached— a consequence of their long, shaggy mane’s slow transformation from brown to dirty white.
 
The females arrived lastly, including Shila, Anderro, and Thimbar.

Shila ambled to Quintar and slowly knelt. “How have you been my friend?” Quintar asked, stroking the Yaak’s stringy hair “Are you ready for another run?”

Shila turned her head and snorted. She turned away, unhurried. Quintar chuckled, securing his harness to Shila’s hip.

The colossal Yaakraya assembled in a serpentine line. The first beast backed against a tall platform and workers slipped a huge backpack over the creature’s broad shoulders. The laborers hurriedly secured the packs using broad straps bound to the beast’s abdomen and hips. Urging the giant away, they beckoned another to take its place.

Soon, all the packs were loaded, and the laborers dismissed the remaining Yaakraya. Lenna and Enro meandered amongst the heavily burdened beasts tugging on straps and tightening ropes.

A Yaakrider Wierta-expediter approached Quintar, pulling a parchment from his coat. “Here are invoices for grains, meats, and dried fish, and contracts for a full load of Noreldan garments and furs.”

Quintar nodded, stuffing the papers in his pack.

“I wish you good fortune, good Yaakleader.” The Wierta bowed curtly, before turning away.

Quintar grabbed the hairs on Shila's hip and hoisted himself into his harness. Lenna climbed atop Anderro and Enro upon Thimbar.

Quintar urged Shila through a grove of trees and onto the Northern Trail. A line of lumbering Yaakraya snaked behind Shila, followed by the remaining female Yaak and their riders.

By late morning, the Yaaktroop ambled along a trail west of the Great River’s divergence. Thousands of acres of abandoned farmland bordered the river to the east. Above the plain, Quintar observed patches of homesteads spread over the hillside. Steep, impassable cliffs loomed to the north.

The path veered northwestward below the river’s northwest branch, and the terrain sloped upward on a twisting path. The Yaak slowed and Quintar ordered rest.

Later that afternoon, they approached a wide plateau along the river valley carved by the northwest river branch. The line of Yaak meandered along the rocky flood plain toward the northwest. To Quintar’s right, the river widened and slowed. Soon, the trail disappeared into the water.

Quintar gazed upon the crossing of Sarhelm: a ford offering the Yaak easy passage across a shallow stretch of the northwest branch. Farther upstream, the waterway narrowed to a tight chasm where a sturdy rope bridge allowed men and pack animals a crossing in springtime and summer.

Quintar raised his hand and the party halted. The heavily-laden Yaakraya gathered beside the river and gently squatted. The Yaakriders dismounted and inspected the beast’s cargo. Lenna and Enro passed huge buckets of water to the resting giants.

Soon, the Yaakriders climbed upon their Yaak, and the Yaakraya rose on their stocky feet. Shila and Quintar led the Yaakraya across the half-kilometer wide crossing.

Shila plodded through the swift current, the water never reaching her hips or Quintar’s feet. The remaining outriders entered the water when the last Yaakraya waded midstream.

After the last Yaak emerged on the rocky northern shore, the Yaakriders wasted no time urging the beasts away from the bank and upward to the east. Just as the sun disappeared behind the hills, the party reached a clearing beside a small stream. Quintar ordered the troop to make camp for the night.

Quintar and Enro sat beside the crackling fire with bellies full of warm Chakra-pig. Quintar threw a branch on the flames and glanced out over the camp’s periphery. He noticed Lenna standing in the shadows near the resting Yaakbeasts. Quintar approached him.

“Do you suppose,” Lenna said, gently patting Anderro’s belly, “she will give birth on the trail, or will she wait until she returns to her colony in Tyrie?”

“Even the old-timers aren’t sure,” Quintar said. “Some say a Yaak can wait several cycles once their time for birthing is near, although all are certain she’ll disappear without warning.”

“She’ll just leave?”

“Yes, but they always return.”

“Where do they go?”

“Nobody can guess. No man has ever witnessed a Yaak’s birth. The scholars of Adair say they birth only twice during their long adulthood; although they can produce more if their colonies are stressed.”

The two Yaakmen stood in silence for a few moments, and then Quintar said, “It is said, Yaakriders whose companions give birth are bestowed good fortune during the coming year.”

Lenna turned to Quintar, and in the dim moonlight Quintar could detect the faintest grin. “Through the heaviest storms, Quintar, the following dawn always brings new life and new hope.”

Quintar grasped Lenna’s shoulder, and together the two men returned to the campfire.

The morning sun greeted the Yaakriders, and they ate a light breakfast before breaking camp. Quintar led the party upwards and along the perilous paths just above the steep cliffs north of the Great Confluence.

By mid-morning, the path narrowed and bent along a high ridge. The Yaak trudged single file along the jagged cliff, wary of the steep vertical drop to their right. Below and to the south, Quintar beheld the entire valley of the Great Confluence, all the way to the river’s bend below the settlement of Tyrie. Tall hills, capped with rock and snow, towered above him to the north.

The afternoon turned to early evening, and the sun ducked behind menacing clouds. Eventually, the path meandered east while dropping a few hundred meters in elevation. Quintar spotted the northeast river branch thundering through the valley far below. Lake Norelda lay just thirty kilometers to the northeast, he calculated.

Daylight waned, and snowflakes began to fall from a darkening sky. Soon, the snow intensified, and Quintar lost sight of the Yaakraya in a veil of whiteness. He ordered the troop to make camp.

They awoke to a clear morning. The snow from the previous night melted in the early sun, and they continued along the northeast river branch. Through late morning and early afternoon, the Yaaktroop twisted upward along the trail toward Lake Norelda, passing countless swift rapids and gentle waterfalls to their right.

The river flattened and slowed by late afternoon. Shila led the Yaaktroop through a forest of tall Sohla evergreens. Before long, the woods opened to a grassy meadow surrounded by ten cabins and two enormous platforms, similar to the structures found beside Tyrie’s storehouses. Two fire pits lay carved into the clearing’s center.

Beyond the trees and the rocky shore, Quintar saw Lake Norelda's deep blue waters reflecting the bright sun.

CHAPTER
 
6 (The Yaakmen of Tyrie)

“
I
s she a big one, father?” young Kristren asked.

“I hope we don’t find out,” Balyar whispered.

Balyar peered into the darkness yet saw no movement. His dog Jett scampered back and forth sniffing the powdery snow. Before them, Ellini and Alberon cast eerie double shadows across the sloping landscape high above the northern settlement of Norelda.

Suddenly, Jett paused and began whimpering. Kristren trotted to the dog and then motioned his father over.

Balyar held a flickering torch close to the ground. He reached down and touched the oddly-shaped imprints. “Fresh.”

Something made the lanky rancher uneasy, and without thinking, he reached up and stroked a deep scar that crossed his face from ear to rugged chin.

“Come, boy.”

Father and son jogged down the hill, pausing before a cluster of sheep imprisoned behind split wooden rails. He and Kristren hurriedly looked the animals over before moving onward. Swiftly, they passed a coop stirring with clucking chickens and then ambled downward into the courtyard. Balyar followed Kristren through the homestead’s door.

Anderia sprang to her feet, cradling her infant son. “Pinthra?”

Kristren gasped for breath. “Could be...”

Balyar’s eyes flashed in the candlelight. “Fetch me two pans, boy. Now, get going!”

Kristren scrambled into the kitchen. Balyar grabbed his crossbow and two bows. Hurriedly, the rancher filled a quiver with a dozen metal-tipped arrows. Kristren returned with two small pans. The boy’s hands shook. Balyar threaded one bow over Kristren’s shoulder.

Anderia brushed aside a tear. “Be careful.”

Father and son rushed out the door.

Balyar and Jett followed a trail of fresh blood to the field’s edge. Balyar found a mangled sheep in a shallow ditch. Hurriedly, he collected the carcass in a cloth sack. Balyar loaded his crossbow. Beside him, Kristren looked on with wide eyes.

“Will she be back, father?”

“Once a Pinthra has taken blood, they’ll stay close unless driven off or killed.”

“Can they be frightened away?”

“Loud noise is best...” Balyar lifted an eyebrow. “But Pinthra are unpredictable and dangerous, and you should never underestimate the dark beasts.” Again, Balyar reached up and felt his scar. “Be ready with those pans.”

Balyar and Kristren stooped near the ditch where they found the dead sheep. Jett continued to pace back and forth, whimpering. Kristren tried to keep the dog from wandering off. Bright Alberon shined directly overhead. Father and son huddled to fight the chill.

Suddenly, Jett yelped.

Balyar heard a low growl from the forest's edge. Then he saw a phantom-like shape passing between the trees. Two large, luminous eyes flared in the shadows. Another set of blank eyes flashed from a nearby grove, and a loud hiss echoed from the woods. Balyar’s spine tingled.

Jett barked at the dark forms and pawed at the ground. Kristren banged on the pans while Balyar shouted toward the woods. Balyar kept the crossbow within arm's reach.

The nearest dark shadow reared up on its hind legs, releasing a heinous yell. For an instant, Balyar glimpsed fanged teeth and two stubby horns.

Jett barked louder than before.

Suddenly, the dark shapes turned and leaped back into the woods. Moments later, Jett stopped barking.

Balyar stood listening to his heartbeat for quite some time.

**********

A rooster heralded the morning sun and Balyar awoke sluggishly. He stretched and staggered into the kitchen. Anderia stood fanning the fireplace’s glowing embers. Jett lay curled beneath Balyar’s feet. Balyar scratched the dog’s neck.

Anderia pulled aside her slender braids. “I just let him in. The poor thing must have been standing vigil all night.” She glanced toward Balyar. “And you look like you need more sleep yourself.”

“There are chores to be done and packing for the trip.”

“I’ve already set aside some of your things.”

“Is Kristren up yet?”

Anderia lifted a kettle over the hearth. “He just got to bed a few hours ago. Is it any wonder he’s still sleeping after last night’s excitement?”

“I need him.”

“He needs his rest.”

Balyar splashed water on his face. “Samael is meeting me here, later this morning.”

“Oh—”

“He wanted to talk before we set out for Tyrie.”

“Why here?”

“Maybe he wanted to see how common people live, or he just sought the exercise.”

Anderia smiled wryly. “We are not often graced by the presence of the representative of Noreldan merchants.”

Balyar sniffed. “I’ll wager he hasn’t been outside the settlement since spring.”

“Then, I’ll make him some hot tea and prepare a comfortable chair. And then ask him why he charges such high prices at his market.”

Balyar grinned. “Perhaps an appropriate argument for some other time, dear wife.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Balyar. I like the councilman, but I think greed sometimes clouds his thinking.”

“He is not only the wealthiest man in Norelda but possibly the fattest. I hope his heart doesn’t fail coming up the path. I think he underestimates the climb.” Balyar pulled a blanket snug to his youngest son.

Anderia stirred the kettle. “And how prepared are you to represent the ranchers? Do you have their confidence? Will they allow you to negotiate freely? Will they support the decisions you make in Tyrie?”

“I didn’t campaign for this job.”

“Still, they will expect results.”

“I know.”

“And hold you accountable.”

“I did get them to agree on key issues, such as getting this year’s huge supply of Mathran wool to market and negotiating for food reserves for winter.”

Anderia glanced at her husband and shook her head.

“Kristren handled himself well last night,” Balyar continued, reading her mood. “I know he’s just a grown boy, but I’m confident he’ll manage things well while I’m gone.”

“But, he is just a dozen cycles over two years old?”

“I have faith in him.”

Anderia stared at the fire and then adjusted the kettle over the flames. “I wish you didn’t have to leave, Balyar. Fall is such a difficult time on the ranch, and me with the baby... I feel a bit overwhelmed.”

“I know.”

“And with Pinthra lurking everywhere.”

“Kristren is a better archer than me. He can—”

“But there’s so much to get done. There’s firewood to be stored and hay to be collected…”

Balyar placed his hand on Anderia’s shoulder. “Kristren will do just fine, you’ll see. Don’t worry.”

**********

Balyar sat on a boulder on the trail’s edge, gazing downward over the distant village and the deep basin enveloped in a mid-morning fog. The wide expanse of Lake Norelda lay before him, enclosed in majestic mountains and steep cliffs and surrounded by tiers of green pastures. Balyar sighed, envisioning the Great Confluence of Tyrie, many days trek to the southwest below the elongated lake and the river branch that flowed downward, eventually draining into the Great River’s merge.

Balyar noticed the ample figure of Councilman Samael plodding up the rocky trail. “Master Samael! I see you’ve survived the climb.”

Samael paused. “I have not yet… succumbed… but I dearly hope… sweet Lady Anderia… has something warm to drink.”

Balyar slapped Samael across the councilman’s shoulders. “Indeed she has, my good man. Indeed she has. Come with me.”

Balyar led the huffing councilman several hundred meters off the path and into his modest home. Samael removed his hat, dipping his head to Anderia, before plopping down onto a kitchen chair.

Anderia smiled broadly. “Perhaps, the honorable councilman will accept some hot tea.”

“You will save my life, dear lady.”

Anderia poured a cup. Samael took a cautious sip. “Ahhhh, Sequippa root, fresh and smooth. How delightful.”

“Picked by our son Kristren just last week,” Balyar said. “The Sequippa has been most sweet and pungent this year.”

Samael caught Balyar’s eyes through the tea’s steam. “We have little time this morning, so let us proceed to business. My sources report a good harvest of wool on the ranches this fall. I presume they’re correct?”

Balyar eyed Samael suspiciously. “Your sources...?”

“Come now, good rancher, we represent all Noreldans here. I make money regardless your guild’s circumstances.”

Balyar stroked his beard and sighed. “The ranchers have a surplus of three ton of Mathran fleece and eight ton of sheep’s wool.”

Samael raised his thick eyebrows. “Indeed, a good year.”

“The best I can recall.”

“The wool, animal pelts, and garments will give us great leverage to barter with Tyrie and Adair for the needed grains, fish, and meats.” Samael scowled. “You know how quickly Noreldans tire of mutton or an occasional chicken after the snows drive Norelda to isolation. And we want to keep the citizens happy, do we not?”

Balyar said, “And this will be a long winter, if the old-timers are to be believed. Many say that the more plentiful the summer, the harsher the winter.”

Samael nodded. “Possibly, nature’s way of maintaining balance, good rancher?”

“I don’t know, but we would be wise to plan ahead. Many ranchers have already stockpiled additional firewood and hay.”

Anderia poured the councilman another cup of tea. Samael took a quick sip and then nodded politely.

Balyar leaned forward. “And who has been chosen to represent the trappers at this meeting?”

Samael smiled wryly. “Tharmstron.”

“Tharmstron! I’ve never met the man, but he’s reputed to be outspoken and somewhat mistrustful.”

“Ah, good rancher, in politics it’s best not to prejudge…”

“Have you worked with him before?”

“Make no mistake, Balyar, Tharmstron is a strong and honorable man. Do not forget, it was Tharmstron who argued for his scattered communities to have more involvement with the settlements, and it was he who organized trappers for greater leverage with the merchants— a measure, lightening my pockets significantly, by the way.

“And most important of all, it was Tharmstron who foresaw the need to educate the young of his clans— a plan that recently reached fruition in a pact with Druiden of Adair, providing teachers to trapper outposts where before there was none. Tharmstron is a man to be respected. One must not underestimate him.” Samael took another sip of tea.

Balyar sighed. “Trappers have always been strange folk— too many years in the wilds, I suppose. Only recently have they become concerned with settlement affairs, and now they’re involved in our greatest councils. How times change.”

“Many things change in our lands,” Samael said solemnly. “But representatives like you and I must assure these changes are wise and just. All peoples must be represented fairly, including trappers, or we risk losing all; this is especially self-evident during hard times.”

Kristren pushed through the front door holding an armful of firewood. Jett trotted between his feet, shaking off muddy snow.

“Good morning sir,” Kristren said.

“And to you, young man,” Samael replied.

“This is my eldest, Kristren,” Balyar said. “He’ll run my ranch while I’m in Tyrie.”

Kristren dumped the firewood beside the fireplace. He removed his gloves and flexed fingers over the fire.

“Have you finished the morning chores?”

“Yes, the wood’s split and the animals are fed. Will you be leaving soon, father?”

“Yes, and you can help by carrying my bag down to the village.”

“I wish I could go with you.”

“I need you to take care of your mother and brother.”

Samael tapped his fingers. “If you’re ready… We must get to the ferry docks before noon. If everything goes well, we will meet the Yaakriders at the lake's western portage by sunrise tomorrow. Tyrie is two days journey by Yaak from there.”

Kristren strapped his father's luggage across his shoulder and exited with the councilman into the cool, morning air. Balyar lifted his infant son from his crib, cradled him in his arms, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. He placed the boy gently in his bed and covered him with blankets.

Anderia stood washing pans from breakfast. Balyar reached over her shoulder and took her hand. She stared straight ahead.

“Take care,” Anderia said.

Balyar, Samael, and Kristren tramped down the meandering path, leading from the upper ranches down to the Noreldan settlement, some distance below. Jett ran ahead of the trio. Balyar and Kristren bounced along, but the aging and overweight merchant huffed and puffed.