Robert Charrette: Find your own truth

Shocked by the sudden attack, Sam was slow to react. His companions were not. Braced in a formal firing stance, Gray Otter opened up on the beast. Harrier fired as well, screaming wildly as he emptied the clip of his SCK 100 submachine gun into the creature. The concentrated fire ripped into the beast at the juncture of its neck and body, slicing down into its right shoulder. Tattered muscle failed, and the monster's limb dropped limp to its side. It screeched its pain and dove.

From his vantage near the pool, Sam could see the beast's dark shape just beneath the surface as it crossed under the bridge. The shadow flowed as he watched.

The beast's neck and forelimbs shortened and its body grew broader.

The creature's shape was still shifting as it breached, its momentum carrying it partway onto the shore. Bony armor now covered its skin, and its vicious head was that of a giant cat. The dark maw revealed row upon row of sharklike teeth as it snapped at its nearest tormentor. Gray Otter barely managed to scramble away from its attack.

When it raised its right forelimb to slap at the woman, Sam was appalled to see that the limb showed no sign of injury. The paw, now a clawed flipper, caught Gray Otter and sent her tumbling. She hit hard and lay still.

Harrier ran up next to the beast. He was still screaming incoherently, but he had changed clips and was pumping fire into the beast's side. When it swung its head toward him, he ran away shrieking.

Harrier's distraction bought Sam time to collect his wits. Such a magical creature was best fought with the aid of a spirit, but remembering the chaos that haunted this land, he dared not summon one. Tired from the effort of breaching the barrier, he would have to rely on his limited skill at sorcery. Running through the spell chants he knew, he despaired at how few were oriented toward combat. This great beast would not be easy to affect. He gathered his power, readying a stunbolt. If he could slow the creature down, he would have more time to prepare a more potent spell. If he could think of one.

He spoke the words, and cast his arm forward as a physical focus to channel the energy. The beast bellowed, shaking its head in confusion.

Then, like a gore-soaked revenant, Jason struck.

The Indian leaped onto the creature's back, clamping his knees into its neck. Augmented muscles drove fighting spurs deep, grinding past the beast's dermal armor to slice flesh. Again Jason thrust, seeking the vital arteries supplying the creature's brain. It screeched and bucked but the Indian held on, howling with berserker glee. Clawed flippers raked back to flay skin from Jason's thighs.

The creature thrashed and began to change again. Its body became more sinuous, allowing it just enough reach to slam an expanded flipper-paw onto Jason's shoulder. The Indian folded over backward, spine snapped. The beast arched further, flinging the body free in a welter of blood and entrails. Jason's corpse splashed into the water and sank.

Freed of the fear of injuring Jason, Sam unleashed the arcane energy he had gathered. Barely controlled, the mana swirled away from him and coalesced into a ragged bolt of energy that ravened toward the monster. The creature screamed as the half-focused mana tore at its being, ripping through its essence and scattering fragments like sand before a storm wind.

Twisting in agony, the beast threw itself back toward the water. Its outline flowed and its proportions shifted as it jerked and flailed ineffectually. It seemed caught in a transition state, unable to take a definite action or even a definite form. The monster crashed back into the pool.

Sam watched it sink until its dark shadow was lost from sight. Without expecting an answer, he asked, "What in hell was that thing?"

"Bunyip," Harrier said shakily. Then he giggled, showing that he was still close to hysteria. "Say what?"

"Bunyip," the Australian repeated. "It's a beastie hereabouts. Ain't never seen one before." "Then how do you know this was one?" "Bunyip's a shapechanger. Lives in water and is very nasty. I figure that fit the bill. You took him out pretty good. You're one hot wizboy."

Sam ignored the praise. He had failed to defeat the beast before it killed Jason. Over the Australian's shoulder, he could see Gray Otter kneeling by the edge of the pool. She was crying.

"Come on," he said to Harrier. "Let's go get the prize."

Harrier nodded enthusiastically and followed him across the bridge. The Australian spent most of the crossing scanning the water. Twice he stumbled and nearly knocked them both into the pool.

The far side of the pool was broader than the space from which they had fought the bunyip. Its surface was rougher, too, with small outcroppings and hollows scattered about. The area sloped gradually up to the wall seamed with opal.

"Cor," Harrier said, his eyes caressing the iridescent brilliance of the rock.

Sam noticed that several of the outcroppings on the floor were also tipped with opal. Near the center, a flat-topped chunk of dark rock projected almost a meter from the floor. On its surface lay a single opal crystal of surpassing size.

Harrier at his heels, Sam approached the dark pedestal. Unlike the other gems this was a fire opal, a far more precious kind. The eight-centimeter stone looked as though a great flame burned in its heart. Sam held his hand close to it without affecting the bright glory of the gem's brilliance.

Harrier reached to take it.

"No!" Sam could sense the power of the stone. "Don't touch it. For it to have maximum ritual potency, I must gather it myself."

Harrier stepped back, seeming frightened by Sam's intensity.

"Sure, Mr. Twist. It's all yours. There's plenty here for everybody.''

Sam ignored the Australian's blathering. He touched the stone and was only mildly surprised to find it warm. It was truly a stone of power. He tried to lift , but he could not get a grip. His fingers seemed to slide from the surface.

He cupped his hands to either side and concentrated. The world around him receded until Sam was aware only of the pulsing stone and himself. Slowly he brought his hands together, cradling the opal between them. His fingers tingled as they touched the oily surface. Focusing his concentration more sharply, he exerted his will on the stone. Wind whipped through the cavern, sighing through the holes worn in the stone with a frightening whelp. It shifted slightly.

The great gem seemed reluctant to move. Carefully Sam turned it in his hands, assuring himself that it was free before easing it from the hollow in which it rested. He sensed the vibration before he heard the rumble from deep in the earth. A craek appeared in the top of the blackish stone and raggedly curved away from the hole where the opal had nested. A second crack appeared, then a third. More followed, until eight fissures radiated from the nest. The cavern shook. Sand and small particles rained down. A soughing moan breathed through the chamber.

But the floor didn't drop away, nor did a huge boulder come rolling in to smash him. The moaning died away and the rumbling softened and stilled. Before his eyes, the seams of opalescence in the wall dimmed. Silence and calm returned to the chamber.

His prize in his hands, Sam rose shakily to his feet. With a whispered prayer of thanks, he turned his back to the opal-streaked wall.

"Where are you going, Mr. Twist?" Harrier asked. "There's lots more."

Staring at the gem, Sam answered, "This is all I'll need. I'm not sure I can handle even as much power as I feel in this stone." "But you can't get back without me."

Sam smiled. "You and Mudder aren't the only ones who ever learned to navigate."

Across the pool Gray Otter's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as her face took on a calculating expression.