Norton, Andre - Anthology (7 page)

Read Norton, Andre - Anthology Online

Authors: Baleful Beasts (and Eerie Creatures) (v1.0)

BOOK: Norton, Andre - Anthology
3.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

 
          
 
although
I'd had a
frightening glimpse of how big this thing could grow, I had no idea how small
it could get. With my luck it could probably shrink small enough to follow me
into any old hole!

 
          
 
So I just kept moving, running so fast I
hardly noticed where I was going. Two big trees loomed up ahead. They were so
close together, I just managed to squeeze through. Could the monster follow me?
It was down almost to my size now and just made it. A little bigger and it
might have been stuck.

 
          
 
That gave me an idea. I began to circle. I
could hear it right on my tail and I put on speed. I managed prodigious

 
          
 
 

leaps
from rocks to tree stumps. If I could only
make the monster grow big again! I could probably lick it if it stayed small,
but I knew it wouldn't—especially in a fight. If only I could make it get big
again just as he reached those trees. Fighting would do it. And so might fear!

 
          
 
As I bounced off a rock slide and cleared a
small stream, I could almost feel the saliva dripping from that cat's jaws. The
two trees were coming up in front again, and suddenly I was inspired. I
remembered my bobcat yell. That used to throw a fright into everyone.

           
 
I've been trained by Ellie to always lower my
voice. She used to tell me about the famous man in the olden days on Earth who
said that the bobcat has "a shriek and yell like the devils of hell."

 
          
 
"And we don't want any devils in a
spaceship, please," she would say.

 
          
 
But right now, I thought, the devils would
come in handy. The trees were close ahead, and just as I reached them and
bounded through, I let out my old bobcat scream. I hadn't done it for.
so
long, I thought I might have forgotten. But it came out
high and clear, seeming to echo all through the forest in a frenzy of sound.

 
          
 
I heard an answering scream from Ellie in the
tree, and when I looked up, I could see her clutching a branch, having almost
fallen from her perch.

 
          
 
"
Tigger
!
Tigger
!" she yelled. "Are you all right?
Did it get you? Come up the tree at once. Oh, why don't you do what I tell
you?"

 
          
 
"Because you tell me all wrong!" I
cried, looking up at her from the bottom of the tree. "I've trapped the
monster. Now come down here fast so we can scram before it gets loose
again."

 
          
 
But she couldn't seem to understand what I was
saying. I don't know why it is that I can understand humans better than they
can understand me. There must be something lacking in their brains. But there
it was. And all the while the monster was struggling to escape from the tree
trap. It had blown itself up to its biggest size, and while its head was
sticking out on the near side of the trees, its body was kicking on the far
side, and its long neck was caught firmly in between. It was growling and
snapping and snarling, but I couldn't be sure how long it would stay there.
Once it calmed down, it would figure out that all it had to do was shrink a few
sizes. I was jumping up and down at the foot of Ellie's tree, trying to get
through to her, when I fell over some of her equipment. I stopped and looked it
over. What was most valuable to her? Why, the packet of newly collected leaves,
of course! Without another thought, I picked them up in my mouth and headed
back toward the spaceship.

 
          
 
Ellie yelled after me.
"
Tigger
!
Come back! Where are you going with my
specimens?
Tigger
!"

 
          
 
I ignored her, running till I was out of
sight. And then I stopped. I heard her scrambling down the tree, but did I hear
the monster? Though it was still hissing hideously and seemed to be staying in
the same place, I let out another scream, just to be sure.

 
          
 
It was then that Ellie burst through the
bushes, carrying the rest of her gear and crying, "
Tigger
,
don't do that! You've already scared the pants off the whole forest!"

 
          
 
I didn't argue with her. She could see where I
was, and I lost no time in setting a fast pace back to the ship.

 
          
 
Later that evening, I heard her telling the
captain about our adventure. She received a scolding of sorts.

 
          
 
"That'll teach you to go into an alien
forest without some kind of weapon!" the captain said.

 
          
 
"Oh, but I do have a weapon with
me," she told him. "I have
Tigger
. He's
better than any blaster you take along!"

 
          
 
Yes, that's me—
Tigger
—the
best blaster on the spaceship Condor!

 

 

The Spell
of Spirit Stones

 

by
ALICE WELLMAN

 

            
Though we had entered
the forest only ten minutes before, the branches of the great trees locked in a
dark roof above us, and ropy vines twisted down to block our path. I clung to
Jinell's
hand as if I were six instead of way past twelve. Each
step drew us deeper into the forest's green mouth.

            
I said, "Let's
go back. This wasn't such a good idea—"

            
"No,"
Jinell
said firmly. "You beg me to go. We go."

            
Her face had set into
grim lines, and her eyes held a strange glitter.

            
She was right about
my begging to visit her home village. Dad had driven off that morning, headed
for a two-day conference with the other scientists of his group. The

American foundation that sponsored Dad's research project in the
Pakaraima
Highlands of
Guyana
required quarterly reports on the findings.
I waved to Dad until the jeep was

out
of sight, then I ran to find
Jinell
. She was
doing the wash behind our camp home.

            
"Come on,
Jinell
.
You can wash tomorrow. This is a great chance for you to visit your
people."

 
          
 
She wiped her perspiring face on her sleeve.
"No, Nan-
cee
. Your father said I should keep both
eyes on you while he is gone. We do not go off this place."

 
          
 
"But you promised. You said you must see
your brother before the snow lies white on the mountains. And the last time Dad
went, you said you'd take me the next time he had to leave."

 
          
 
I knew I was being unfair to remind
Jinell
of her promises. They had been the
when-peace-covers-my-people-we-go-Nan-
cee
kind. But
to the
Akawai
Indians a promise was a bond, an
unbreakable bond.

 
          
 
Jinell
sighed. She
stuck the wash into the soak water and faced me. "We go now. Dress for
rough walking. This is a time for strong steps and eyes wide open."

 
          
 
It didn't take long for me to pull on my thick
denim slacks, mosquito boots, and a long-sleeved plaid blouse. I hurried to
meet
Jinell
in front of the house, but stopped short,
amazed by the sight of an alien and startling apparition before me—a
Jinell
I didn't know. Cloth of brilliant stripes hugged her
hips, her honey-tan body nude above it, with half-moon breasts nearly hidden by
strands of shells and red berries. Bands of glistening green-gold beetle wings
wound about her upper arms, and iridescent tree bark dangled from her ears and
dark curling hair. She was beautiful.

 
          
 
"I leave my people a shaman, and I return
to them a shaman," she said, pointing to the sling of jaguar skin hanging
from her shoulder. "We do not go without my spirit powers—my powers as el
tigre
."

 
          
 
The
Jinell
I knew
was pretty but she had always worn the shapeless dresses the
Waramadong
Mission supplied to their Indian students. The
mission served all Amerindian settlements of this part of the Amazon forest
highlands, and we first arrived at the house near the
Kamarang
River
. "Be good to my little girl," Dad
had said. "
Nancy
has no one but me to care for her." And
Jinell
was good to me, very good.

 
          
 
It was slow going through the forest now. The
ground was spongy and a spatter of heavy dew fell on us. "The forest
weeps,"
Jinell
said. "It weeps for
me."

 
          
 
She walked proudly with long sure steps I had
difficulty matching. I'd always hated being small, pale, and blond, and when
forest vines caught my long hair, I wished I had tied it up. But I didn't let
that slow my pace.

 
          
 
"
Jinell
, why
did you become a shaman if you didn't want to stay with your people?" I
looked up at her forbidding face.

 
          
 
Her voice was bitter as she said, "A
shaman trains with suffering for two years. One dies before becoming a shaman.
I did not leave of my own will."

 
          
 
Her answer left me even more curious about
what could have driven her from her people into a routine of house help for Dad
and me. A shaman understands the demands and needs of the spirit world, Dad had
explained, and through spirit magic protects the people who look to the shaman
for leadership. I wasn't surprised that
Jinell
was a
shaman. I'd always sensed an unusual power in her.

 
          
 
Shrill cries burst from the fig tree not far
ahead of us. Both my hands gripped
Jinell's
as I
pulled back in alarm.

 
          
 
"Howlers, Nan-
cee
,"
she said, and at once a spiteful chorus of the resonant howls of male monkeys
and the harsh barks of the females challenged us. I tried to laugh, for the
howlers—with all their infernal noise—
were
quite
harmless. But as we walked toward the fig, the screaming gained in volume.
Jinell's
eyes met those of the dominant male who crouched
on a lower limb. His shaggy neck was swollen with the force of his horrible
howls.

 
          
 
At once all noise ceased.
The
silence of the forest 66 seemed unreal, more frightening than the noise.
"Why did the monks stop howling?" I asked, moving closer to
Jinell
.

 
          
 
"I told them to stop."

 
          
 
"How—how did you tell them?" I'd
heard no sound from her.

 
          
 
"My total spirit,
Akwalu
,
holds power in the forest. It speaks to forest creatures like one to one. Stand
quiet, Nan-
cee
. I give you spirit stones."

 
          
 
I "stood quiet," waiting.
Jinell
took three stones from her sling of Jaguar skin—two
the size of Brazil nuts, the third a tiny red pebble no bigger than a fresh
pea. She rubbed the stones between her palms,
then
blew deeply on them.

 
          
 
"Swallow this." She gave me the red
pebble. When I hesitated, she insisted. "Good to swallow. It
stay
with you all the days you live. Always you can hear the
words of my total spirit and always you can speak to me."

 
          
 
The red pebble went down my throat like
nothing at all. She put the crystal stone in my hand. "This will free you
from bad spirits. And this. . ." The third stone was polished quartz
shaded with green. "
This . . . think
well what I
say. This stone will call my forest spirit to help you."

 
          
 
"But
Jinell
,"
I protested. "How can I need help from bad spirits when I am with
you?"

 
          
 
"What will be will
be.
"
She held open the right-hand pocket of my denims. "Put your stones in
here. You will feel the rough of the freeing-stone and the smooth of the
call-stone. When you face trouble, blow your spirit into the stone and throw it
far. My spirit will take it from the air."

 
          
 
We walked on. "We go to my people as I
promised you. But
Ekjojo
, the shaman who leads them
now, is the man whose spirits fought my spirits and outwitted them. He made me
leave my people. His total spirit holds power in the plains, the mountains, and
the water. You and I do not know what he feels against me, but my young
brother, grown to full man since I left the
Akawai
,
tells me with his red speak-pebble that
Ekjojo's
magic
grows weak. Time calls me back."

 
          
 
Jinell's
voice
gained a strange power. "Keep close, Nan-
cee
. Do
not go beyond the touch of my hand. I hold great fear for you."

 
          
 
Light filtered through the trees. We heard the
distant sound of laughter. Uncanny and mocking, it grew louder as we reached
the forest's end. Though the sunshine splotching the ground was cheerful, the
wild unearthly laughter came in sudden peals, and fear rose in my throat.

 
          
 
Jinell
must have
felt me shrink against her. "The mountain ghouls laugh. Shaman
Ekjojo
holds a
seance
. They laugh
at his songs. Keep close, Nan-
cee
. We enter
Akawai
over the rise."

 
          
 
Quickly we climbed the rise, went down the
slope through a stand of heavy bamboo, and came to a clearing within high
bushes and palms. Houses of rough bark huddled together—all empty.

 
          
 
Men, women, and children sat motionless around
a low platform of saplings. When rustlings rose from a nearby bush, all heads
turned to stare. "
Ekjojo
brings his
leaves,"
Jinell
said softly, and she pulled me
down beside her in the outer circle.

 
          
 
Almost at once, a robust young man leaped from
the bush, strode with an easy grace to the platform, and swept his outstretched
hands around the circle of villagers. He was handsome, with thick wavy hair and
comely features, yet his smile held lust for power as well as welcome. I could
feel it.

 
          
 
He sang, shaking his "leaves" in
rhythm to his song. The "leaves"—four large twigs of trees tied
together—were like thick pompons of rustling green. He flapped them in a
swishing pattern and snapped them in time to his chant.

 
          
 
The dark mottled skins of the great water
snake, the 68 anaconda, wound about his red breechcloth. This—except for the
many strings of cotton covered with white bird down that dangled over his shoulders
and arms—was his only garment.

 
          
 
Jinell
reached for
my hand and tucked it under her arm. Immediately the shaman's eyes fixed on us
and his teeth gritted together in a sinister smile. Hatred flashed from his
eyes. He cupped his hands about his mouth and snarled, "
swas-i-i-k
swoak
" into the
air above our heads.

 
          
 
I felt as if I'd been struck.
Jinell
put her hand on my knee and gripped it firmly as a
young man with warm brown eyes slid down beside her. He folded his legs in
front of him as we had done, and
Jinell
blew into his
ear. I nodded to him, for I knew the muscular youth must be her brother.

 
          
 
Shaman
Ekjojo
lifted
a small barrel. He drank deeply with violent coughing and spitting. From
somewhere a whistle sounded.
"
Shu-ee-ee
."
The shaman was trembling all over, and the bird-down strings about his
shoulders began to crawl like long white worms.

 
          
 
Suddenly wings beat above my head. I looked up
to see a giant gray and black bird with a white-down breast hovering above me.

 
          
 
Jinell
shrieked. Her
hand left my knee and her arms reached out for me.

Other books

French Classics Made Easy by Richard Grausman
All Men Are Liars by Alberto Manguel
Hannah Jayne by Under Suspicion
KILTED DESIRE 3 - New Blood by McKINLEY, A.B.
Irish Seduction by Ann B. Harrison
Chameleon by Kenya Wright
Trapped by Nicole Smith