The Black Stallion and Flame (13 page)

The Black had gathered all four legs beneath him and was vaulting into space. For a second it looked as if he had struck the vampire. But he missed the bat and came down hard, just managing to keep his balance. For a few seconds he stood perfectly still, his ears pitched forward, ready to attack again. He snorted his frustration when he saw the vampire dart away.

The red stallion spun quickly and, with hoofs thrashing the air, struck the bat a glancing blow as the vampire flew over him. But he did not bring it to the ground; it darted high above the herd and then flew toward the cliffs.

The two stallions stood alongside each other quietly, knowing that for a while danger to them and the herd was over. Together they would maintain a vigil throughout the night. They were terribly tired but their breathing was regular once more and came without effort. Soon the vampire would attack again and they must be rested and ready for him.

The vampire bat hung head downward, dangling over the cliff’s edge into space. He had one hind claw hooked onto the jagged stone and his belly had a silvery gray sheen in the moonlight. It was a very small stomach, especially designed by Nature to take only blood as food. Nature also had adapted his teeth to his need, providing him with sharp and curved front ones which were excellent for lancing and scooping. The wound he made was always shallow, small and clean-cut.

He could see the horses below, for contrary to common belief his vision was good if not excellent. It was only a question of time before he would strike again. His small eyes followed the movements of the two stallions whom he now feared. Normally his only enemy was the night owl. He lived a peaceful life, sleeping during the day and becoming active only at night when he went off in search of food. Normally, too, his bite was
harmless, producing no pain and seldom weakening his victim from loss of blood.

Suddenly he dropped from his perch with outspread wings and hung suspended in the air for a moment. Then he returned to the ledge, walked along it slowly on folded wings and went to a crevice in the wall. He backed into it in mouselike fashion and for a few minutes was very still, seemingly close to sleep. This complete relaxation was not normal. Neither was the saliva that appeared on his lips. Both were characteristic of his diseased condition.

He felt sudden tremors within him and then a growing irritation began to fill his small body. Fearing the two stallions below, he sought to quell the gnawing urge to attack so soon. He backed further into the crevice where he would be safe and secure.

It was thirty-one days since rabies had been transmitted to the vampire bat from diseased cattle in Trinidad, and during all that time the deadly virus had been present in his salivary glands. Yet only now was he beginning to show the
visible
effects of the disease he carried. They foretold his own fast-approaching death.

For a long while he remained still. Heavy clouds blanketed the moon and the night grew ink-black. Often he uttered a sharp cry, too high-pitched for even wild horses to hear. He listened to the sound vibrations which told him better than his eyes could how close he was to objects about him and, equally important, what they were.

As the hours went on he became more irritable and impatient, further signs of his ever-spreading infection. Finally the drive within him turned to aggressiveness
and he was no longer able to quell his mounting excitement. He left the crevice.

As he looked down from the ledge he could not see the horses but he knew that they were still there. He turned his head from side to side, almost as if shaking it. His cries suddenly changed, becoming peculiarly piercing shrieks as if he had been swept into a state of extreme terror. His mouth hung open while violent muscular tremors racked his small body. He made no attempt to fly, only staring below and squealing continually.

When finally he did move there was no evidence of any incoordination or paralysis having set in. He walked quickly along the ledge, only to stop at the end and hang from one hind leg while grinning and uttering hissing cries. A few minutes later he was back on his feet, snarling viciously. He snapped at the stone wall and flew violently at it, lacerating his face and wings in his crazed frenzy. He gnawed the air with a hissing sound, then darted for the crevice again. A moment later he emerged from it and hung down once more from the ledge, staring fixedly below.

The two stallions stood on guard, as motionless as statues, clean in line from ears to hoofs. But suddenly, as if at a signal known only to themselves, they moved against the night wind, trotting slowly in front of the herd, one going to the right, the other to the left. They traveled so smoothly they seemed to glide through the night, even their hoofs failing to break the silence. They might have been from another world, crossing empty space.

Like the vampire bat they were at home in the night. Their eyes swept the darkness, but even more
trustworthy were their nostrils and ears. Sharp vibrations caused sudden movement of the skin across their eardrums. The clicks meant danger was near. Anxiously they turned to the herd. Only the foals were down on the ground, sleeping. All the others were on their feet, standing quite rigid and occasionally snorting in fear and apprehension. A few brave mares grazed, ignoring the sounds and smells of the night and leaving it to their leaders to protect them.

An hour passed before there was a change in the scent carried by the wind. The two stallions searched it desperately for minute clues, smelling and listening and finding it clear of all danger. Had they nothing more to fear or had their deadly enemy merely gone downwind?

Blowing down their nostrils, they moved toward one another, not to fight but to smell each other. Close together they moved in a small circle, swinging their bodies away from each other and smelling hard. Their ears were cocked downwind and yet they knew their enemy could be quite close without their hearing him. On signal they separated, the red herd-leader moving downwind while the Black remained where he was.

When their instincts told them the dreaded vampire hadn’t left the valley, they became more alert and watchful than ever. Neither would sleep or relax his vigil, for the hours to come were fraught with danger.

The night became blacker still with a heavy, rolling overcast descending upon the valley. There was a chilling dampness to the air, too, forecasting the drenching rain to come. The mares began to graze, no longer smelling danger. Nor did they stop when without further warning the rain came down heavily. They seemed to
welcome its rawness, some even lifting their heads to the sky to let the big drops slap hard against their faces. Finally the rain stopped and the night was still again except for the cold currents of air sweeping across the valley.

The two stallions waited silently, ghostly shadows in the night. Another hour passed. It was the period just before daylight, and the horses in the herd began to sleep, most of them still standing up.

One old mare, standing on the outer fringes of the herd, got down beside her sleeping colt. She, too, was tired for she was heavy again with foal. She closed her eyes and slept but, like the other wild ones, kept her nostrils and ears alert.

The vampire bat landed downwind where the old mare could not smell or hear him. On folded wings he walked toward her, slowly, cautiously. He was very hungry, not having eaten in forty-eight hours.

Step by step he moved forward on all fours. He kept his wings close to his body in umbrella-like fashion, giving his forelegs more freedom of movement in case of alarm. No one heard him, not even the two stallions on guard.

Closer and closer he approached the old mare, stalking more lightly than ever by raising his body higher from the ground. From this position, too, he could leap upward and take flight if necessary. He kept his head down yet every movement was planned, deliberate. His wings were so compactly held that no one would have taken him for anything but an agile four-footed animal. He moved softer still, almost prowling, as if looking for the most perfect spot to approach his prey without awakening her.

Reaching the mare, he stalked back and forth as if still undecided which area to bite.

Suddenly the mare showed signs of movement and the bat froze. Nodding his head, he drew back his lips, exposing the large canines and protruding incisor teeth. His gaze never left the mare, and he made no attempt to flee. Instead he patiently waited until she was quiet again. He was extremely cautious in his next approach, keeping well out of reach of the mare’s hoofs. One blow from them could easily kill him. He moved forward inch by inch.

The mare made another abrupt movement with her legs and the vampire hopped backward. He waited several minutes before resuming his attack. Then, feeling his way forward, he squatted and leaped, landing softly on the mare’s shoulder.

The old mare smelled him before she felt his touch. Rolling over on her back, she started kicking with all fours, at the same time screaming wildly. Again and again she struck out, not knowing exactly where her enemy was and hoping to scare him away. Beside her stood her colt, trembling with fear of the unknown and staring into the darkness.

The red stallion came from a short distance away, the maddening smell of the bat once more in his nostrils. He screamed as wildly as the mare toward whom he rushed. He could not see his winged enemy but he knew that it was somewhere nearby.

As he listened to the squealing mare and colt, he became insane with fury. Suddenly he saw the bat on the ground before him and plunged forward.

The vampire hopped away, his head shaking from
side to side. Then, as the red stallion’s hoofs reached to stomp out his life, he was in the air. He had no thought of fleeing, only of attaching himself to the stallion’s back where he would hang on like a tick. He hovered above the legs that pawed the air in search of him. He was more agile than his opponent and had the advantage of flight.

He circled, ready to strike again. His eyes were bright with the sickness that was blinding him more than the night. He uttered sharp cries which guided his flight away from the high wall and back to the stallion. And then his cries changed with the ever-growing infection within him. He shrieked in terror and then dropped to the ground, his mouth wide open and his head turning from side to side. He waited until the stallion’s hoofs were almost on top of him before rising again, more slowly this time, as if paralysis were already setting in. He snarled viciously and flew just above the pawing hoofs, snapping at them in his crazed frenzy.

The red stallion struck out hard, moving forward on his hind legs. He followed the quick erratic flight of his enemy, side-stepping with him as the bat darted in all directions and lunging repeatedly. The stallion was lightning and dynamite rolled into one. But for all his agility and skill he could not strike the vampire. Once he pitched forward hard, his head almost striking the ground. For a second he lost his balance, stumbled over a large tuft of grass and fell easily, rolling over on his side.

Before he could get up the vampire was on his neck, seeking to hold on with his sharp hind claws. The red stallion struggled to his feet, shaking his great body, but he could not rid himself of the bat. Screaming in
hatred and terror he plunged forward, flaying the air with his hind legs. Failing to loosen the bat’s claws, he then reared up on his hind legs time and time again, coming down with his head between his forelegs. Still the vampire clung to him. But the red stallion would not admit defeat. He threw himself to the ground, breathing heavily and consumed with rage. He rolled over, struggling to loosen his foe’s grip.

The vampire waited for his victim to become exhausted and cease struggling; then he would inflict his wound. His eyes shone wildly, his hissing never ended. He was excited, impatient.

Suddenly like a panther the Black Stallion struck from out of the night. He, too, had come quickly, quietly when the mare began screaming. But just before the fight began instinct told him it was not yet time to attack such an elusive quarry. It was only when the vampire ceased flying and attached itself to the red stallion and the two went down that the Black charged with the speed of forked lightning. He grabbed the vampire by its outstretched wings, shaking it loose from the other stallion, and flung it to the ground.

Then he struck hard, using both forefeet, until the enemy was dead.

Alec lay in his bunk and listened to the swells slapping ceaselessly against the hull of the anchored boat. He stared blankly into the darkness of the cabin before glancing once again at the open porthole. Soon the sky would be touched with pale gray streaks. Soon it would be morning and he could go looking for his horse again.

Henry snored across the way from him. And up on deck he could hear the captain’s footsteps. Yes, soon it would be light and the
Night Owl
would no longer lie restlessly like himself, straining her anchor mooring with the ocean swells. He closed his eyes again, waiting impatiently for the dawn. The smell of the sea was strong in his nostrils—salt and iodine and fish. A big, recently used net hung close beside his bunk. His thoughts turned to home and to the more familiar scents of hay and grain, saddle soap and leather. Would he return with his horse? Or would he have to travel back alone?

He opened his eyes. The footsteps on deck had ceased. So had Henry’s snoring and the soft slapping of the waves. But now, mixed with the smells of the sea, was the familiar aroma of coffee. The dead silence all around was of the kind that precedes dawn. Alec got to his knees and looked out the porthole. The pale gray streaks were there, low in the east. As he watched they rose a little higher in the sky. Shadowy waves lifted and rolled toward him, gently rocking the boat.

He heard the fisherman’s footsteps again, this time thumping down the steep companionway. Then from the galley in the stern of the cabin came the clatter of dishes and stronger still the aroma of freshly made coffee.