He turned back to their guard. The human was digging at something on the ground between his legs. Shiny rocks, Hisaulk saw. All during the long walk through the canyon, these humans had paused to pick at shiny rocks. He wondered at the reason. Perhaps their captors had a craving for mica.
“Are you certain you can get free?” Hisaulk murmured.
She nodded. “All I have to do is twist my feet a little and this horrible log they have fastened between my ankles will fall away. The other ropes I will throw off before I run.”
“Then go, daughter. Run like the wind. Run as if you are competing for the grand prize at Sauropolis Stadium. Run like you’ve never run before. And whatever happens, whatever you may hear, don’t look back.”
She would have clacked her beak in response, but chose to nod instead, wishing to make no more noise than was absolutely necessary. A glance showed that the position and attitude of their captors had not changed. Having finished their meal, a few more leaned back against supportive trees or logs, their eyes closed and hats or bandannas pulled down over their faces. But the large human, the leader of the pack, was finishing also, and she suspected that when he was done they would leave this spot.
None were looking in her direction, including their guard. She might not get a better chance.
Lifting her left foot and twisting it slightly, she gave her leg a quick shake. The liberated ropes slid down to her ankle and then off. She repeated the movement with her other leg, and the log hobble dropped silently to the leaf litter that covered the ground. Lowering her arms, she shook until the bindings dropped free. Then she was able to use her hands to remove the restraints that secured her thighs. Lastly, she loosened and removed the two guide ropes that lay draped about her neck.
She was free.
Maybe it was the action of removing the guide ropes, or perhaps the guard simply became sensitized to all the movement, however subtle, behind him. In any event, he turned and started.
“Hey. Heey” Rising from his seat, he turned and yelled to his companions. “One of the beasts is loose!”
Before he’d concluded his warning, before the startled shouts of his fellows filled the air, Keelk had cleared a fallen log in a single bound and struck out into the forest, her long slim legs pumping furiously.
Human yells now resounded behind her, full of anger and dismay. Mindful of her father’s admonition, she didn’t look back, concentrating instead on the unknown route ahead. She kept her gaze resolutely forward even when a couple of echoing booms like miniature thunderclaps assailed her ears. She recognized their source, of course, though why the humans would suddenly decide to set off fireworks she couldn’t imagine. She suspected that unlike the skyrockets and pinwheels
she was familiar with from annual festivals, these had a purpose other than celebration.
Fireworks could be dangerous. She’d heard of operators who’d been burned by them, and even worse. Those who manufactured them were willing to risk such dangers in order to bring beauty to Dinotopia. She didn’t know what these odd humans intended, but she doubted it was beauty.
No glittering lights excited her vision, no fiery flowers bloomed in the sky. Something like an angry wasp did whizz past her head, unseen and unscented. A strange sort of freworks, she thought as she ran.
Clearing another fallen timber by a good two feet, she found she could no longer run in ignorance. Looking back, she saw half a dozen of the humans pursuing. As she watched, one of them stopped to point a long metal tube in her direction.
So they were shooting fireworks at her. Trying to burn her or dazzle her with light. Only there were no lights. Thinking them the oddest fireworks she’d ever heard, she nevertheless lowered her head, using her body for protection.
Two more booming sounds were heard and another of the invisible wasp-things sent splinters flying from a tree just ahead of her. She swerved to her right and tried to lengthen her stride. Though not as fast as an adult, she was agile and in good condition.
There is no beauty in their fireworks, she thought as she ran, just as there is no beauty in them.
She could hear their fading cries, sense the anger in their voices. The beautyless booming echoed distantly now, and no more of the wasp-things passed her. Maybe their supply was running low. Weaving and winding through the forest, she knew she must make a difficult target.
Though she no longer heard them behind her, she didn’t slow down for what seemed like hours. Trees, flowers, tempting fruit, and obstructing branches flew past. Once, some large thorns caught her left side and there was pain. Wincing, she reached back and saw blood on her clawtips. Still she didn’t slow down. Holding her arms in front of her chest in the manner of a praying mantis, she raced on.
Whatever happens, whatever you hear, don’t look back, she’d been told. Though curiosity tugged at her, she did her best to comply. She knew she was running not only for her own life, but for those of her family as well.
Ahead lay the unknown and more of the Rainy Basin, which she hoped fervently would continue to remain unknown.
Having assumed the lead in the pursuit, Mkuse and Anbaya had come closest to overtaking the escapee. Seeing that it was hopeless, they finally stopped to wait for the others to catch up. Breathing hard in the heat, the bare-chested Zulu removed a bandanna from a trouser pocket and mopped at the perspiration flowing down his cheeks.
“Did you see the thing go? Very like an ostrich it runs.”
“So quick!” The Moluccan sat down heavily on the moist, soft earth and rested his forearms on his knees. “Even a little one. As a boy I was the fastest in my village, but at my best I do not think I could have overtaken it.”
“Not in these woods.” Uncomfortably aware of their temporary isolation, Mkuse found himself staring nervously into the trees. There was no reason for his unease, he told himself. Except for their captives, they’d seen nothing larger than a bird since making landfall. Even so, something made his spine crawl. Something sensed but unseen. Had he been home he would have asked the village sangoma about his feelings, but knowing there wasn’t a witch doctor within a thousand miles, he kept his anxiety to himself.
Besides, there couldn’t be anything out there worse than Blackstrap’s wrath, which they were all going to have to face shortly.
“We must double-check the ropes on the others,” Anbaya was saying. “The captain, he be furious.”
“Let him be.” Mkuse nodded at the solid wall of green that had swallowed their quarry. “We’re not going to find it in that.” High in the treetops birds disturbed by the report of the pirates’ guns continued to squawk their displeasure.
“What happened? . . . Did we get it? ... Where’d it go?” The rest of the pursuers soon caught up to the two who had taken the lead.
“Gone,” Anbaya told them. “Too, too fast.”
A confusion of mutterings rose from the exhausted men.
“Well, it’s one less to keep watch over, says I,” muttered Samuel.
“Yes,” declared Watford. “We’ve still four of the beasts left, and we’ll see to it that not another gets away.”
Copperhead nodded. “The captain’ll have to be content with that. Maybe we can trap him another.”
Treggang looked less sanguine. “What we tell him?”
The big Zulu shrugged. “We tell him the truth. It was too fast for us and it got away. Ran like the devil was after it.” He laughed. “Maybe it thinks we’re devils.” A couple of uncertain chuckles greeted this weak attempt at humor.
Informed that one of his precious pets had made good its escape, Blackstrap exploded like one of the Condors twelve-pounders. As always, it was Smiggens who finally succeeded in calming him, pointing out in concert with Mkuse that they did, after all, still retain four captives, and that if fortune favored them, they might encounter more. As for those remaining prisoners, they reacted to the escape of one of their own by staring stolidly at their captors like the dumb animals they so obviously were.
 
; Smiggens and his companions would have been startled indeed had they been able to share the emotions that were presently churning within their captives.
Growling under his breath like a bear disturbed at its feed, Blackstrap contented himself with fetching the unhappy guard such a blow to the side of the head that the poor man’s ear instantly swelled up like a cauliflower. The sailor didn’t complain, counting himself fortunate that the captain hadn’t been holding a sword or knife at the time.
Smiggens did his best to cheer his friend and master. “Don’t take it hard, Brognar. Who knows what wonders may lurk around the next rock, the next tree? If we’re lucky we may encounter beasts even more remarkable.”
“Aye, I suppose you be right, Mr. Smiggens. You often are.” He waved a suddenly indifferent hand in the direction the escapee had taken. “Let it go. We’ll take it as a lesson.” His gaze narrowed as he scrutinized his crew. “Always learn from your mistakes. I bloody well have. That’s why I’m still alive.” A few relieved cheers rose from the men. Compared to the reaction they’d expected, the captain’s manner was proving positively genial.
How right the first mate’s supposition was about encountering more beasts, none of them could imagine, but if they’d had an inkling as to the true nature of the sort of creatures that called the Rainy Basin home, their enthusiasm would surely have been considerably muted.
VII
KEELK RAN UNTIL SHE WAS COMPLETELY WINDED. Chest heaving, legS
aching, she slowed to a halt alongside a towering cecropia. Striving to breathe silently, her head flicked from side to side as she listened for the slightest sound. Despite their size, the masters of the Rainy Basin could slip through the forest with unparalleled stealth and cunning. They also had the ability to stand completely motionless, seemingly asleep or unconscious, until the unwary wandered within reach.
Of course, most of them were so well fed by the civilized Dinotopians traveling through their territory, they didn’t need to hunt. But driven as they were by ancient imperatives that eschewed logic and reason, they always had to be regarded as dangerous. This fact was made known to all inhabitants of Dinotopia at an early age.
So when a bird chirped nearby or an insect hopped suddenly from branch to leaf, she analyzed the sound and motion as much for what it might suggest as for what it actually represented. Every grove, every tree, potentially concealed unknown dangers. This was the Rainy Basin and she was alone, so
alone! How far it was from the familiar, civilized surroundings of Cornucopia.
Unable to avoid the risk, she tiptoed to the edge of a running stream and dipped to drink, scooping up water with graceful arching sweeps of her head and neck. Tumbling fresh and cold from the slopes of the Backbones, the cool liquid soothed her throat. Had she truly escaped the horrible humans? There’d been neither sight nor sound of them for a long time. If so, it did not mean she was safe; only that she was safe from them. She had exchanged one threat for another.
Straightening to her full six feet, she headed toward the cliffs that were visible through gaps in the trees. The rock rampart she finally reached was too steep and too crumbly to allow climbing.
Avoid the canyon they’d used, her parents had instructed her. That meant traveling west instead of east. She wasn’t entirely displeased. The mountain communities of the Backbones lay in that direction anyway.
Aware that alongside the naked stone she was utterly exposed, she reentered the forest and began making her way eastward, using available vegetation for cover. By this time she was convinced she had lost her former captors and no longer worried about them and their inscrutably aggressive fireworks.
She halted only when the night had grown too deep to make further movement impractical. A twisted ankle or broken leg would slow her far more than any amount of sleep. Besides, she badly needed to rest.
Finding a slight hollow beneath a flamboyant cluster of giant split-leaf philodendrons, she squeezed herself as far back in as she could. The broad green leaves would conceal her from view while shedding the rain that had begun to fall. This time of year it was likely to turn to a downpour, and she was glad of the makeshift shelter.
Crouching there in the dead darkness, listening to sounds she could not identify and wasn’t sure that she wanted to, she felt more isolated than she had at any time in her life. Lulla-bied by the night sounds, not knowing what might be happening to her family, it was some time before she finally fell into a hesitant and fitful sleep.
Distant crashings in the brush disturbed her several times, but nothing came near, and the much-feared noxious body odors never assailed her nostrils. Once, a mournful cry involuntarily escaped her throat. Terrified, she was careful not to repeat it lest she attract unwanted attention.
It was nearly morning when the sound of something immense and purposeful advancing through the trees nearby finally woke her. Instantly alert, she blinked at her surroundings, illuminated now by the hazy sunrise. Her eyes scanned the visible brush and her nostrils twitched.
When the crashing intensified, she tucked her head and neck as far back into her shoulders as she could, not daring to move. She’d been told what to do in such a situation, but only casually. There was no need for intensive instruction because such incidents were all but nonexistent. One simply didn’t go for an afternoon stroll in the Rainy Basin.
However, as often happens when academics prove inadequate, instinct took over.
Utterly motionless, eyes as wide as possible, she watched while something the size of a small mountain strode through the trees just off to her right. Its head was in the lower canopy and overtopped most of the ferns. A burning yellow eye half as big as her skull blinked in the mist.
It was only an outline, a suggestion of great power and strength, all the more terrible for not being completely visible. She was glad she couldn’t see the curving, serrated teeth that she knew filled the cavernous maw, nor the powerful three-clawed hands that flexed methodically in anticipation of tearing and rending.
The allosaur was a big one, perhaps thirty-five feet from nose to tail and weighing many tons. Even though she couldn’t see it clearly, she could hear the rhythmic cbuff-cbuff of its breath as it passed, its capacious lungs working like an ironmonger’s bellows. If it were so inclined, she would make no more than hors d’oeuvre for its insatiable appetite.
As she held her breath, it lowered its head to the earth and sniffed. Was it following a trail? And if so, was it hers?
No, she decided recklessly. It had come from the south and could not have crossed her path. But what if it picked up her scent now? Given the amount of rain that had fallen last night
she doubted it was possible, but an allosaur’s sense of smell was especially acute. If it sniffed out her hiding place, could she reason with it? She knew little of the carnosaurs’ crude dialects, but it was sometimes possible to talk to them. A great deal would depend on how hungry this one was. The carnosaurs had a distressing tendency to bite first and leave conversation for later.
She had one natural advantage: she wouldn’t make much of a meal for a full-grown Allosaurus. It might not think her worth the effort. A couple of bites of bone and tough tissue, that’s all she was. Not even a morning snack.
Small comfort that would be.
Keeping absolutely still, she tried to will herself not to be. 1 am a rock, she thought intently. A gray spot in the forest. Nothing alive, nothing here, nothing good to eat.
Raising its massive jaws, the allosaur exhaled with a whoosh and shook its head. Perhaps it had inhaled something that didn’t agree with it. The floor of the rain forest was thick with spores and mold. If it had encountered her trail the night before, prior to*the heavy rain, she didn’t doubt that it would have been on her in an instant. Now the path she’d taken was filled with mushrooms and other confusing odors.
Straightening like a construction crane, the huge meateater rose to its full height. It looked left, then right. Trembling in her hiding place, Keelk shut h
er eyes.
When she opened them, the allosaur had gone. She could hear it crashing away through the trees, heading south. Aware that the move might be a hunting ploy to trick anything in hiding, she remained exactly as she was for another hour. Only then did she feel safe in emerging from her place of concealment, knowing that the longer she lingered, the farther her family receded from help. Her muscles ached from staying in one position for so long, but she didn’t mind. She was still alive, still in a position to seek help for her parents and siblings.
The only sound came from a garrulous parrot, the only movement from the last of the falling rain. With a final backward glance she resumed her journey, pacing herself and fighting down the fear that shrieked at her to run, run, before it was too late. Though she knew she was quicker and more agile than any allosaur, it could cover ten of her strides with one of its own. Toying with such a monster would be the height of folly.
Hunger forced her to slow. She couldn’t run all day on an empty stomach, and she’d been taught to take care of her body. The Rainy Basin was full of food for an adventurous traveler. None of it had been properly inspected or checked for parasites, but she had no choice. She had to keep her strength up.
Locating a tree heavy with ripe rambutan, she reached up with one hand and pulled down a branch. Standing on tiptoe she was able to pluck one fruit after another. Once picked, it was a simple if delicate matter to peel the spiky red hide away from the sugary pulp within. Beak and claws did the work, and she swallowed one core after another. They were cool and delicious, and she knew that the hard seed within the pulp would pass harmlessly through her digestive system.
Invigorated and refreshed, she resumed her run. That afternoon a nest of white ants provided a protein-rich snack, which she excavated with her front claws. Fruit was to be had all along the way. She missed the elaborate and entertaining rituals of family dining, but mostly she missed her kin: mother and father’s love and sage advice, Tryll’s perky curiosity, even Arimat’s constant teasing. Such thoughts sustained her as surely as any rations.