A Triumph of Souls (23 page)

The swordsman nodded vigorously. “Hoy, that’s crazy, but crazy logic is logic still. I certainly…” His expression twisted.
“Wait a minute. What do you mean, ‘suffered’?” He turned sharply to the watching litah. “Did my dream then cause you suffering?”

“Beyond doubt,” the big cat replied. “I dare say you would have enjoyed it.”

“Cursed unfair,” the stocky warrior grumbled. “Every man—and cat—should keep to their own dreaming. Who asked you to snatch
mine?”

“Believe me,” Ahlitah replied, “if I had been allowed any choice in the matter, I would have opted instead for the dream of
the nearest rodent. At least in such a dream I would have had the proper number of legs.”

“Hoy, that’s no given because—”

Ehomba cut him off. “Hunkapa Aub; you were asleep
when Simna’s nightmare woke us all. What did you dream?”

Enormous shaggy shoulders heaved, framing a look of utter ingenuousness. “Hunkapa not dream, Etjole. Sleep soundly.”

Simna uttered a rude noise. “The slumber of the dumber. In ignorance there is purity.”

“We must take care in the future.” A thoughtful Ehomba gazed into the last dying embers of the campfire. “It could be dangerous
for one to dream too often the dreams of another, be it man or beast.”

They sat awhile together, discussing the remarkable occurrence. Eventually, fatigue overcame concern and they retired once
more, this time to sleep the sleep of vacuity that refreshes the mind. In the morning they were rejuvenated—and much relieved.
In the future they resolved to monitor their own sleep as well as that of one another more closely, the better to prevent
a recurrence of the unfortunate slippage of the night before.

They resolved also to eat no more mushrooms gathered from this particular forest, no matter how nourishing or tasty they looked.

V
ery soon they no longer had to worry about the unknown properties of forest mushrooms of any variety, because those delightful
but often mysterious edible fungi soon vanished, along with the last remnants of the forest itself.

They did not lose the trees entirely, but instead of dense woods or even isolated thickets, individual boles grew in isolated
hollows or followed the course of the occasional stream. Otherwise, the ground was covered with a tall yellow-green grass
that came up to Simna’s hips. They had traveled through worse before, but it still would have made for slow going if not for
Hunkapa Aub. With his thick coat of hair to protect him from cuts and scratches, he was virtually immune to stickers and sharp-edged
grasses. Following him as he plowed a path westward, they made steady progress.

The presence of many small creeks and streams meant they did not have to burden themselves with full bags of water, and the
shade their gullies supplied provided a welcome respite at mealtimes and at night. After sundown, tiny covert creatures ringed
each campsite with querulous
cheeping sounds. Whenever one of the travelers attempted to locate the source of these gentle fanfares, they quickly evaporated
into the surrounding grass. Whether animal, insect, or wee folk of the prairie, their true nature remained shrouded in mystery.
Whatever they were, Ehomba decided, they were curious but not hostile.

Monstrous bison ranged the grassland, browsers larger than any Simna or Ehomba had ever seen. The travelers gave these hulky
dark brown herbivores a wide berth. Ahlitah had to be restrained from testing his skills against such tempting, oversized
game.

“There is no need,” Ehomba argued with the big cat as they traipsed along in Hunkapa Aub’s wake. “There is plenty of smaller
game. What would be the point of risking your well-being to bring one of the beasts down?”

“To prove that I could do it.” Passionate cat eyes looked up at the herdsman. The litah was panting in the heat of the day,
thick black tongue lolling out one side of its mouth. “I know you don’t understand. It’s a predator thing.”

“I understand that if you were to spark a stampede with one of your attacks we could all be killed. There is no shelter around
here. I understand that if you go down beneath those great hooves and break a leg or two we would not be able to carry you.”

“Man, you waste almost as much time worrying about things as you do wondering about them.” Idly, Ahlitah slapped a big paw
down on a field mouse that was unwisely attempting to cross behind Hunkapa and ahead of them. As it was not even big enough
to chew, the cat swallowed the snack whole. “When it comes to matters mystical,
I defer to you. When it comes to the business of killing, you should trust in me.”

“Very well then,” Ehomba argued. “Suppose you catch one and bring it down. What if it falls on you? I know how strong you
are, but these grazers are huge. A dying one would be difficult to handle.”

The great maned head nodded slowly. “That is a valid point. Even the most skilled hunter can fall victim to an accident.”

“Besides,” the herdsman went on, “what would we do with all that meat?”

“Ordinarily, I would live nearby until it was consumed.” The litah snorted. “But since we are traveling on a human timetable,
something that sensible would be out of the question.” He was silent for a while, pacing easily alongside the herdsman. “Perhaps
you are right. I’ll find something else to kill.”

“Thank you,” Ehomba told him.

They camped that night in a depression where a small natural dam of rocks and debris had formed a narrow but deep pool. Not
only did it provide them with a source of fresh water, but it also offered a chance to bathe and even, to a very limited degree,
to swim. In this Ehomba took the lead, demonstrating once again the natural affinity for water that he had demonstrated on
more than one occasion. Simna was a fine swimmer, while the black litah contented himself with rolling about in the shallows
and following his immersion with a dust wallow. Unable to swim, Hunkapa Aub splashed about near the shore like a happy child.

It was therefore surprising that Ehomba woke not to the
smell of damp vegetation or surroundings, but to an odor that was distinctly acrid.

Sitting up and pushing aside his blanket, he tilted his head slightly and sniffed. The sun was just considering the eastern
horizon and none of his companions were yet awake. The smell was as familiar as it was distinctive, but from what direction
was it coming? Of one thing and one thing only he was certain: Something in their vicinity was ablaze, and it wasn’t the extinguished
campfire.

Turning his head slowly to his right as he tried to locate the source of the odor, his gaze fell upon the black litah. As
was its manner, it had awakened noiselessly. Now it was sitting back on its hindquarters, nose in the air, inhaling silently.

“You smell it also,” Ehomba murmured.

The big cat nodded once. “Something burning. What I can’t guess yet.”

“Can you tell where? Which direction?” Knowing how much more sensitive the big cat was to odors of every kind, Ehomba ceased
his own efforts in favor of the litah’s.

There was a pause, then Ahlitah lifted a forepaw and pointed northward. “That way. And coming closer, fast.”

“Better get everyone up.”

While he roused Simna, the black litah prodded Hunkapa Aub to wakefulness. By the time the swordsman was sufficiently conscious
to communicate, the sharp, acrid smell of burning vegetation was thick in Ehomba’s nostrils.

“Etjole?” Raising himself up on his elbows, Simna blinked once, then wrinkled his features. “Somebody making breakfast?”

Satisfied that his friend was awake, the herdsman
straightened and gazed soberly to the north. “I think this grassland is on fire.”

It came roaring toward them like a wall, advancing in a solid line from horizon to horizon. Orange flames framed in red fed
hungrily on the dry grass. Their superhot crowns licked at the sky, rising fifty feet and more before transmuting themselves
into gouts of dense black smoke that obscured the clouds. Fleeing before the blaze was a rampaging menagerie of terrified
creatures large and small. Broad-winged raptors and agile dragonets swooped and darted in waves before the flames, feasting
on the insects and small game that were being driven from their hiding places by the onrushing conflagration.

Wind drove the fire forward. Where it advanced too rapidly for those in its path to escape, charred corpses littered the smoking,
blackened earth in its wake.

“By Gapreth!” Suddenly wide awake, Simna was scrambling to gather up his gear. “The pool! Into the pool!”

“It is not wide enough,” Ehomba countered. “The fire is too big. The flames will consume the grass on both sides and merge
above the surface. They will suck the air from above the water, burn the lungs and suffocate anyone who is not fish or frog.”
Even as he spoke, the towering flames had advanced another ten feet nearer to the campsite. “Downstream! If we can find a
pool too broad for the flames to overreach we will be safe.”

Carrying everything, they fled from the onrushing blaze. Ahlitah flew effortlessly over rocks and gullies that slowed less
nimble companions. Burdened by packs, lesser individuals than Ehomba and Simna would have fallen fatally behind. Hunkapa Aub
was not graceful, but
his expansive stride compensated for his occasional ungainliness.

As they fled, the stream continued to flow strongly alongside them, holding out the promise of a hoped-for refuge somewhere
up ahead. When the ground showed signs of sloping slightly upward, Ehomba took heart. The slight alteration in terrain strongly
suggested that the water that was now flowing downhill beside them would soon have to come to rest in a large, still body.

It was the tallest of the travelers who sang out moments later. “Hunkapa see water!”

“Another pond?” a gasping Simna inquired. He was panting hard not so much from running as from the rising temperature. In
spite of their exertions, the wall of flame was gaining on them, and the fire gave no indication of tiring.

“No pond, Simna.” The shaggy biped stumbled, caught himself, and loped on. “Hunkapa see lake!”

Unless their hirsute companion’s definition of a lake was radically different from their own, Ehomba knew they would soon
reach a place of safety. Seemingly intent on proving that good news came in bunches, like grapes, the wind chose that moment
to drop to almost nothing. The grass fire continued to burn behind them, but it was no longer racing south at high speed.

“Watch yourselves.” The composed warning came from Ahlitah. “We’re not alone. There are animals up ahead. Big animals.”

“Of course there are,” Simna wheezed. “Probably seeking safety in the lake just like we are.”

“No.” The big cat sounded puzzled. “Actually, they’re coming this way.”

That made no sense, Ehomba reflected as he ran, covering the uneven ground with long, supple strides. His swords bounced against
his back. Why would any creature deliberately be heading toward the fire, even if the wind had fallen?

As he topped a slight rise he saw them for himself, an irregular line of golden brown shapes arrayed between the fleeing travelers
and the looming silvery sheen of the prairie lake. Its calm, expansive waters beckoned, promising relief from the heat and
refuge from the raging blaze.

The beasts initially espied by the black litah boasted dark stripes along their lower flanks and each of their six legs. They
had short, nobby tails and oddly flattened skulls like the heads of digging spades. The slightly protuberant eyes that gazed
out at the world from the upper corners of the weirdly triangular skulls were covered with transparent membranes that glistened
in the sun. Double rows of sharp incisors were visible in the long, flattened jaws. From the summit of the skull projected
a single bizarre horn that curved forward and up.

They were built like grazers, Ehomba saw; heavy of body, thick of fur, and short of leg. But their teeth were designed for
biting and chewing flesh, not grass or other plant matter. Yet among the dozens of incisors he could see not a single canine
tooth or tusk. Such teeth were suitable for biting off and slicing up large chunks of meat, but not for killing. This singular
orthodontic arrangement marked them as scavengers. So did their stumpy legs, with which they could never hope to run down
even the smallest of healthy herbivores.

As for what they scavenged, that was abundantly clear. At least two of the sturdy, stockily built creatures could be
seen chewing on the charred, blackened remains of less fortunate animals that had been mortally injured by the fire. Apparently
these extraordinary beasts tracked the advancing flames much as the opportunistic raptors hunted in front of them. Since they
plainly could not move very fast and would be unable to outrun any blaze, he decided, they must be exceptionally sensitive
to the smallest shifts in the fire’s or wind’s direction.

Moments later, evidence was given to show that he was only partially correct. The bizarre hexapods did indeed feed upon those
unfortunate creatures who had been caught and killed by the flames. But the striped carnivores were not scavengers: They were
hunters. They did not follow behind the grass inferno or measure its progress from in front.

They caused it.

Even as he and his companions ceased running and slowed to a stop, the true function of the curious “horns” that projected
from the center of each of the beasts’ foreheads made itself known. They were not horns at all, but hollow structures formed
of hardened keratin. From these organic nozzles the slow-moving carnivores expressed streams of liquid that caused the long,
dry grass to ignite on contact. Flames erupted between the fleeing travelers and the lake as the line of beasts began to set
fire to everything in their path.

And the wind was rising again.

Enclosed by raging wildfire, the only place in the vicinity that promised any safety was the stream. Barely a few feet wide
and not as deep, it offered only temporary shelter at best to Ehomba and Simna. Hunkapa Aub and Ahlitah
were far too bulky to be able to conceal themselves beneath the rushing waters.