Paul Cook - Children of the Plains

And who ate him? What did the stormbird, he who breathed lightning and flew on the crest of a tempest — what did he fear?

Her eyes closed. She lay, bobbing gently, until an errant wave sent water into her nose and she jerked upright, coughing and spitting. The minnows vanished into the depths.

The broad red orb of the sun was setting, so she swam to the south shore. The other side of the river was a cacophony of birds quacking and trumpeting as they came to roost for the night.

Nianki climbed a sandy hill overlooking the river and bedded down for the night, her back against a sturdy vallenwood tree. It was just a sapling by vallenwood standards, yet still bigger around than she could reach. She laid Pakito’s broken spear against her chest and slept deeply. Only once did a noise in the night alarm her — a panther prowling nearby let out a scream. The high, almost-human sound brought Nianki rolling to her feet, spear ready. When next it screamed, the panther was farther away, so Nianki resumed her place under the tree and slept undisturbed.

For Amero, the trip to Duranix’s home passed in a dream, one he would recall often in later years. He was flying through the air. There was wind in his face, pulling at his hair. Stars raced by through gaps in the clouds. Amero had dreamed of flying before, but never so vividly. Once he struggled to awaken so that he could see where he truly was, but sleep, like a blanket of fog, enclosed him again.

His first impression after the odd dream was of noise — a low rumble, loud, yet not painful to the ear. The cool air was heavy with the smell of water. Amero opened his eyes.

High above him was an arching expanse of rock streaked with red and black minerals. A pulsing, bluish light filled the air. Amero sat up. He was in a shallow, scooped-out hollow in the floor. The depression was full of fir boughs and freshly torn-up grass; some clumps still had dirt clinging to them.

Around him was an enormous cave, a hundred paces along each of its three walls. The curved ceiling must have been sixty paces high. Light entered the cavern from three points. The first was a hole in the ceiling below the apex and facing outward, not straight up. The second was a large circular opening in the outside wall on the extreme left; it was well off the floor, and anyone entering there would have to do considerable climbing just to get down to the cave floor. The last was a small opening on the far right, at floor level, just the right size for a grown man to use. A wall of plunging water screened the view. A waterfall. That accounted for the persistent rumble.

Amero climbed out of the bough-filled pit. His right leg where the yevi had clawed him was still painful, but much less so than before. He forgot his injury as he examined his new surroundings.

The cave walls were unnaturally smooth, without stalactites or stalagmites. The floor in the wide part of the cave — the waterfall side — sloped gradually upward. In the rear, a level platform at least eighty paces wide filled the comer. The only other noteworthy feature was the smell. The cave smelled vaguely sour, like overripe fruit.

Not seeing anyone, Amero limped to the lower, smaller opening and looked out. A column of foaming water thundered down the mountainside, concealing both entrances to the cave. To his astonishment, he found the cave was hundreds of paces above the ground, set in the side of a vertical cliff face. His head swam, and he lurched back from the precipice.

How did I get up here? he wondered. Where was Duranix? There had to be a trail, a passage ascending from the river basin below.

Recovering his nerve, Amero mounted the slope to the rock platform. The face of the platform was curiously notched with long, parallel scratches that served as handy footholds. After scrambling up, he found the upper floor was also hollowed out in the center. And there he found Duranix, lying in this upper-level bowl.

His strange benefactor was curled up in a strange position, his knees bent backward in a way Amero had never seen a human’s legs bend before. Even odder, the floor was littered with peculiar objects, like large tree leaves, only these were stiff and shiny. Amero picked one up. A little bigger than the palm of his hand, it was oval-shaped, heavy, hard, and the red-gold color of autumn leaves. What could it be?

“Rubbish.”

Amero flinched and dropped the object. It rang loudly when it hit the floor. Duranix had rolled over and was watching him, his head propped up on one hand.

“Wh-what?”

“I answered your question,” Duranix said, eyes narrowing. “Those things — they’re rubbish.”

“My question?” Amero’s confusion cleared when he realized the man had overheard his thoughts. Well, he decided, nothing such a powerful spirit-being did should surprise him. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said awkwardly.

“Then don’t think so loudly. I’m bound to hear.” Duranix sat up with a quick, fluid movement Amero found hard to follow.

The strangeness of his host, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings, began to overwhelm him. Backing to the edge of the platform, Amero asked, “How did you get me into this place? We must be a whole day’s climb from the bottom.”

“Three hundred sixty-two paces, as you would measure it,” said Duranix as he rose and stretched. Amero saw there were several of those shiny leaves where Duranix had lain.

Duranix straightened his loincloth and walked down the notched platform ledge. Amero hobbled along at the taller man’s heels, trying to keep up.

“How long have I been here?” Amero asked.

“Since last night.”

Amero stopped dead in his tracks. “But how? We are many days’ journey from the plains. It’s imposs — ” The boy cut himself off, once more remembering the ease with which his host had dispatched the yevi.

Duranix offered no explanation. Holding onto the rim of the lower opening, he leaned out toward the waterfall. Spray dampened his short hair. He leaned further and opened his mouth. Water beaded on his face and filled his mouth.

When he’d drunk his fill, Duranix swung back into the cave. His fair skin glistened. He smiled with some secret amusement and said, “Thirsty? There’s no sweeter water in the world than my waterfall.”

Amero was thirsty. He licked his cracked lips and gazed longingly past his host at the tumbling torrent.

“I can’t reach out that far,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’ll help you.” Duranix grabbed Amero by the scruff of his neck and thrust him through the opening. The boy let out a shriek of terror as he saw the distant ground between his feet.

“No! No! Don’t drop me! Please don’t — ”

Duranix shoved him into the stream. The water pummeled Amero, and he locked his hands on Duranix’s arm, certain he would be dropped over the edge. However, Duranix never lost hold of him, and after a few heart-stopping moments, he was hauled back inside the cave.

Gasping and sputtering, Amero collapsed on the floor. “Why were you screaming?” Duranix asked. “I would not drop you.”

“The water — too hard — too hard,” the boy choked.

Duranix sighed. “What fragile creatures humans are.” He left Amero coughing and spitting. A moment later he was back with a scrap of dry deer hide and one of those shiny oval leaves. He rolled the hide into a cone and crimped the seam shut by folding the leaf around and pinching it with his fingers. He held this odd object in the edge of the flow of water until the hide hollow was filled. He offered it to Amero.

The boy pushed wet hair out of his face and took the proffered gift. The hide held a double handful of water, and he drank it quickly. The water was cold and pure, with a mineral tang missing from lowland streams.