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"An Abomination Like No Other"
"An Abomination Like No Other"
10/8-10/12/2021
I.
The Land Rover died suddenly in the middle of the clearing. The dashboard screens went dark, the engine stopped and the massive vehicle rolled to a halt. Levon shifted into Park and took out the key. "And it seems this is as far as modern technology will function," he told his partner.
As she unbuckled her seat belt, Zulayka scowled at the trees fifty feet away. "Veganora! Past Heirs of Wakimbe have ventured here many times, Azzalem. You have not been called to come here until now."
"No. The Council decided unanimously that we should investigate the actions of this strange... 'jungle girl' and see what threat she might pose. So far, there are three dead men and one sighting of this blonde archer." In his late thirties, of medium height and built like a runner, Levon Bingham kept his hair so short that it looked as if he had shaved it and was letting it grow back. He was not as dark as his companion, more a rich medium brown in tone and his heavy-featured face showed a serious nature. The deepset eyes were surpringly bright green and lambent. Cat's eyes.
In contrast, Zulayka was a typical Danarakan, with skin so black it had a gloss to it. She was naturally pretty without make-up, and her hair had been straightened and pulled back into a bun. Like Levon, she was dressed for hiking with sturdy boots, loose khaki pants and a denim shirt. Both wore open vests with a number of pockets holding useful items. "My approval was not asked!" she said. "The rift between Inner Danarak and Outer Danarak is getting too strained to suit me. I think we should be in Honjabi in case of rioting."
The Cat's-Claw nodded and started to get out. "You have a point, Zulayka. As always. But whenever we disregard the Council's decisions, it always leads to endless meetings and long tiresome debates. I'd rather face any creature of the night than put up with that."
"Very well. The sooner we settle this nonsense, the sooner we can get back where we are really needed." She hopped out on her side, reached in the back seat to pull out her knapsack and walking staff. Levon was doing the same. He locked both doors manually with the key.
Seeing her quizzical look, he said, "I wouldn't put it past some curious monkey being able to open a door and get into our supplies. We'd come back to find the seats decorated with droppings." He patted his vest in a final check and hefted the six foot walking staff. The two longtime partners began striding through tough knee-high grass toward the line of trees.
"Do you feel unexpected reluctance?" Zulayka asked after a few minutes.
"Yes. Very much so. I'm... getting apprehensive without knowing why. If I didn't know this was a safeguard placed by Jordyn himself, I'd definitely be inclined to turn back."
She scoffed. "Outsiders to the Midnight War would be too afraid to go any further, Azzalem, but we know better. This is only an invisible barrier to keep people in the real world where they belong. Very few would have will strong enough to keep going."
"I bet it also keeps birds and animals from wandering in or out," Levon added. Each steps took more determination to complete, but at a certain point the mental resistance broke and they were walking freely through the Deep Woods.
It was surprisingly spacious under the canopy of interlocking branches high overhead, with plenty of open areas between the huge centuries-old trees and sparse underbrush. The heat and humidity were less here than out in the open, and sunlight slanting down through the leaves was scattered. As they hiked, Levon ventured the observation that the birds here were smaller and less colorful than in their own Danarak.
"Bah," replied Zulayka. "In every way, Veganora comes in a pale second to our homeland. Even the trees are not as sturdy. And of course, Veganora does not have a champion like you, Azzalem."
"The Cat's-Claw remains cool to the touch," Levon said. "It senses no hostile gralic force in the immediate area. We are still heading West, of course?"
"What do you think, that I become easily lost? In every realm, even Maroch, the Sun rises in the East and sets in the West. The stars in the night sky are also the same. We will spot the Three Queens easily enough."
"To the world outside Danarak, those stars are the belt of the hunter Orion," Levon said, hopping lightly over a fallen tree trunk well covered with moss. "And what we call the War Axe, the world refers to as the Big Dipper or the Great Bear."
"Our ancestors had a deeper feel for symbols and significance than the white men of so-called Classsical Greece," she retorted. "And much earlier, as well."
Levon let the bait for an argument pass. Twenty years of traveling with Zulayka had given him tolerance for her often caustic tongue and her habit of ranking Danarak above any other culture in the world or the adjacent realms. He had learned to let her remarks slide past him without friction.
Hours crawled by as they marched at a steady, unhurried pace both could maintain without strain. Down into rifts with steep sides and gradually back up again to crest hills, they had covered many miles before the sun touched the horizon ahead of them. Aside from birds and frogs and other small creatures, no animals had appeared.
Levon and Zulayka selected a defensible site to make camp, where the base of an ancient tree nudged up a rocky outcropping. Although he was granted superior night vision by the Cat's-Claw, they needed to rest at some point. Clearing a ten foot circle and assembling loose rocks into a platform, the Danarakans gathered more than enough stray branches and dried twigs to get a comfortable fire going that they could tend during the night.
They ate sparingly from their supplies, put on fresh socks and hung the ones they had been wearing up on a branch to air out, then sat discussing their mission for a while before turning in. Both were light sleepers even when tired. Between the Cat's-Claw and his Kumundu training at Tel Shai, Levon had enhanced hearing and sense of smell that gave him awareness of his surroundings sharper than that which a guard dog could have matched. With her stretched out next to him, Levon felt Zulayka's breathing change into a pattern that indicated genuine sleep.
He himself only dropped off after he felt certain no attack was imminent from the young woman watching them from high up in the trees.
II.
At noon the next day, they had stopped at a narrow fast-running stream to wash up and refill their canteens. Zulayka was telling her intention of shooting one of the brown rabbits spotted in the area, so they would have fresh meat and extend their dried food longer.
But Levon straightened and raised one hand in a hushing gesture. "I smell... apes. Not chimps, not gorillas but something unfamiliar."
His partner dropped her right hand to the revolver in its flap holster. "Cat's-Claw sharpens all your senses, Azzalem. Take the lead in this situation."
Massive shapes were moving through the concealment of the undergrowth, spreading out around them. Levon had already taken his knapsack off. Now he quickly shrugged out of his vest and began unbuttoning his shirt. Underneath, he was wearing a skintight black cotton stalking outfit. "I'm trying to remember if I'd read about any Veganoran apes, Zulayka. Maybe. Not much is coming to mind."
In another second, the Cat's-Claw was kicking off his hiking shoes to stand barefoot on the hot dirt beside the stream. He reached inside his tunic to pull out a finely-linked silver chain on which hung a glossy black talon seven inches long. The literal Cat's-Claw for which his role as champion of Danarak had been named.
Adult chimps five and a half feet high began emerging from the bushes. The fur was light grey, their eyes yellow and they stood easily upright without having to fall forward and support their weight on their arms. More alarmingly, several of them grasped thick tree branches which they brandished as clubs. The biggest of the strange apes, fully six feet tall and three hundred pounds, swung his bludgeon overheard and howled out a deep-throated challenge.
"The Black Lion will have them running in a second," Zulayka sneered.
But before Levon could draw upon his sacred manifestation, a slender bronzed form vaulted down from the trees to land lightly on fingertips and toes. The two Danarakans had only a flashing glimpse of a nearly naked young woman with a wild mane of bright yellow hair before she pounced on the leader of the grey apes and both went tumbling to the ground in a rolling mass of arms and legs.
The fight was over in mere seconds. With a yelp of pain and fear, the grey ape scuttled away and fell down as he tried to rise. Another attempt saw it get back up on his hind legs, clutching one paw to where red poured from a gash in his chest. The creature backed away, whimpering, and his retreat acted as a signal to the others. They all spun and ran off.
The newcomer did not have a scratch on her. After kneeling to wipe her wide-bladed knife on the grass, she rose and regarded the two Danarakan outsiders with an unfriendly gaze. No more than nineteen, tall and lean, she was wearing only a few gold ornaments and two pieces of tanned animal hide strapped to cover her crotch and across her breasts. The thick golden hair shone in the sunlight. Her oval face had ironically delicate features including full lips and bright sapphire blue eyes over a straight nose.
"I don't believe it!" Levon said, breaking the silence. "You should have been killed instantly. That beast was strong enough to rip you apart, and yet you're untouched. You're not even breathing hard!"
The young woman pressed a thumb to her chest. "I am Ozara, the Holy One. What are outsiders doing in my land?"
Zulayka started to make an angry retort but Levon interrupted quickly. "Not now," he said. "This is a time to weigh our words carefully. Ozara? We have come into Veganora because three men from this realm have been found in the forest beyond. Each had been killed by arrows. We have been sent to look into their deaths."
The golden girl sheathed her knife at her thin leather belt. It could be seen that she had flat pads of leather tied across her palms and the soles of her feet. If she frequently climbed high into trees, those would offer protection. "What happens to the people of Chu-Uviro is Chu-Uviro business and no one else's. Go back to the world outside. The Grey Apes are not the worst killers here. For the Red Dogs or Walking Vultures, you both would be easy prey."
"Wait, something's not right," Levon continued despite the annoyed glare he was being given. "Josef Jubilec, the Blind Archer, told us he met you here in Veganora back in 1998? 1999? Something like that. He described you as being a teenager back then and that was twenty years ago. Why haven't you aged? Are you the original Ozara's daughter?"
"There is only one Holy One," the blonde scoffed. She headed over to the tree from which she had dropped and retrieved a soft animal-hide quiver with a dozen arrows in it, as well as a slim six-foot bow. All these were hand-made. "I have told you to go back to the outside world, for your own safety."
"She doesn't seem like even twenty yet," Zulayka said, folding her arms across her chest. "Look at that complexion, like a baby's. I do not know what her true story is."
Stepping toward the self-described Holy One, the Cat's-Claw tried to make his voice mild and disarming. "Please, maybe you can help us. We have been sent here because three men were found dead not far into Outer Veganora. Killed by arrows, and here you are with a bow..."
"You do not wish to be the fourth, do you?" With those words, Ozara leaped straight up without crouching to seize a tree branch seven feet off the ground. She swung her legs up, perched atop the branch for an instant and scurried up out of sight into the greenery.
Watching from the ground, Zulayka took her hand away from her pistol and exhaled in relief. "Time to follow her. I imagine she thinks she will lose us, traveling through the trees that way. She's wrong, but then she does not know your abilities, Azzalem."
The Cat's-Claw nodded. "I have her scent."
Before setting out in pursuit, Levon Bingham packed away his outer clothing into his knapsack. He was revealed to be wearing a snug tunic and pants of black cotton, leaving his forearms and calves bare. Replacing the heaving boots were light slippers. Tucking the ancient talon back under his shirt, Levon slipped the knapsack straps over his shoulders and took off with an easy loping stride.
Zulayka followed easily enough. She was in as fine an athletic trim as he was, hardened by many expeditions into dangerous realms. For once, she kept silent and allowed her partner to follow the unique scent of the blonde jungle girl. Over the years, she had come to accept the physical advantages Levon held over any normal Human.
III.
The narrow trail had been beaten down into the soil by generations of Veganorans traveling between villages, and before that it had been created by animals going from the deep forest down to a waterhole. Thick brush and trees crowded the edges of this trail, constantly striving to obliterate it.
Panting, leaning over with his arms pumping, a Veganoran man sprinted up along this trail. He was wearing only rope sandals, a dingy loincloth and an American T-shirt that read SCARABS WORLD TOUR in red lettering. Like most Veganorans, he was tall and wiry with long arms and legs, his head shaven daily. Cradled in the crook of one arm was a bundle wrapped in coarse burlap.
Coming up behind him, closing fast, Ozara raced with an effortless pace that would have challenged Olympic records. She had an arrow fitted to the string. With the fleeing Veganoran only thirty feet ahead of her, the blonde jungle girl drew back on her bow and loosed the shaft, already drawing a second arrow from the quiver on her back.
And a muscular figure in black vaulted out from concealment directly in her path. Levon Bingham took one arrow in the pit of his stomach and the second in his right thigh, the impact knocking him down to sprawl beside the trail. Ozara rushed past him, letting a third arrow fly that thumped home between the fleeing native's shoulder blades. With a cry of pain, the man fell face down and dropped his burden as life left him with a final gasp.
Seeing that the Veganoran was dead, Ozara wheeled around. "You again! Fool, why did you get in my way like that?" But then she froze in surprise.
Levon had gotten back up and was calmly tugging the arrows out of his body. The leaf-shaped iron heads came out smoothly enough, leaving wounds which strangely were not bleeding. He held the arrows out to the Holy One. "Here. I believe these are yours."
"I do not understand," she said, staring wide-eyed. Finally, she accepted the arrows, wiped their heads with a handful of grass and slid them back into the quiver. "Why aren't you hurt?"
Zulayka had emerged from behind the trees and examined the holes in Levon's black stalking suit. "You heal faster than ever, Azzalem. It is too bad that man was murdered despite your brave intervention."
"Do you want to know why I was chasing him?" Ozara snapped. "Come. See for yourself what this Son of the Red Plant was trying to bring out into your world."
Switching to the Jufari dialect, Zulayka said, >"I will look, Azzalem. Do not trust this pink savage."<
>"We do not choose our skins,"< retorted Ozara in impeccable Jufari. Seeing the surprise on the outsiders' faces, she added, >"I speak many tongues. We can continue in French or German if you like."<
Not replying, Zulayka used the end of her staff to prod the bundle out from under the dead man's arm. She crouched low and cautiously pulled open the coarse fabric. "A...plant? But like nothing I have ever seen." She straightened up and held out a pot of baked clay, from which a thick stem stood. Topping that stem was a dark red bulb the size of a human fist, split horizontally by a line.
As she extended an index finger toward that strange growth, the bulb swung open along the line to become a mouth lined with serrated barbs. It snapped viciously and repeatedly. But Zulayka's reflexes were sharp and she pulled her hand back in time to avoid losing that finger. In a sudden rage, she dashed the pot to the dirt and smashed it with the butt of her staff. She made certain the odd bulb was crushed as well. "Hah! What kind of hellhole IS Veganora, anyway?"
Ozara could not hide a satisfied smirk. She placed a sterner expression on her piquant face before turning back to Levon. "You heal as quickly as I do. You are not Danarakan, nor are you from this land. American, yes?"
"Yes," Levon said. "We need to talk, Holy One. After seeing that attack plant, I suspect there is a real menace afoot here, and endangers both your territory and the outside world?"
"This is so. Come, walk with me. I will show you the Red Plant." She turned on her heel and began striding back whence she had come only a few minutes earlier. Snatching up his backpack from the side of the trail, Levon followed and Zulayka caught up with them.
As they moved under the green-tinged canopy of the intertwined branches high overhead, Ozara began, "I have lived here since infancy. The people of Chu-Uviro raised me when my parents died. They took me as their totem of good fortune and I have protected them against many threats. Outside invaders, unnatural beasts, wicked high priests.. I have fought them all."
Levon nodded solemnly. "I must tell you that I am a knight of Tel Shai, and I am the bearer of Wakimbe's Claw. So you may recognize that I am also a protector and defender."
"Ah! Of course I have heard of Tel Shai. Sometimes I venture into Outer Veganora and bring back both gossip and bundles of newspapers. Of course, I wear clothing the townspeople find more appropriate. The Cat's-Claw! Is it true about the Black Lion? Can you really turn into a gigantic invincible cat or is that a legend?"
"It is no fable," spat Zulayka from close behind them. "It is a sacred responsibility. Our God has fangs, little one. Hope that you never look upon them."
"We may need this Black Lion soon," the jungle girl responded evenly. Zulayka's caustic tone seemed lost on her. "In another mile, the Red Plant await us."
IV.
The deep drumming could be heard booming for miles, and the chanting in time to the thumping of bare feet was nearly as pervasive. Simple and repetitive as the ceremony sounded to be, it was also infectious.
"I won't be able to get that awful racket out of my head for days," Zulayka grumbled. "It's worse than Europop."
Trotting up the base of a massive tree big enough around to hide an elephant, Ozara glanced back over one elegant tanned shoulder at the outsiders. "Let me scout ahead first," she said. In an instant, she had leaped up to grasp a branch, swung herself up to stand on it before vanishing into the green confusion.
"Seriously, Azzalem," Zulayka whispered, "How DOES that little college coed do all these feats? Fighting an ape, running through the trees, staying young for nearly thirty years? What do you think?"
Levon replied in the same low tone, placing his head next to her ear. "I've been wondering if maybe she hasn't stumbled upon a source of the Tagra plant. Tea made from Tagra gives Tel Shai knights our healing factor, as well as keeping us active and nimble when we should be passing middle age."
"I always thought Tagra would not grow outside of Tel Shai."
"That's what I was always told," Levon shrugged. "Maybe there's another explanation..." His words were cut off by a hideous uproar of yelling voices as the drumming stopped abruptly.
"Sounds like your little pink princess wasn't as stealthy as she thought she was," Zulayka could not resist getting in a dig. But she was talking to a man who had already started running full tilt toward the commotion. She scowled more than usual and followed.
They found a wide expanse of waist-high thin-bladed grass which offered little cover unless they had dropped down to crawl, and urgency prohibited such caution. Before the two outsiders had gotten halfway across the meadow, they felt sharp pain in their legs. The edges of the grass were slicing through her khaki pants and his stalking suit more neatly than long razor blades would have.
"Ow! Ow! Wakimbe's Mercy, we must stop here, Azzalem," Zulayka said as she grabbed his forearm. "Bleeding to death will not help your precious Holy One."
"Yes. I...think you're right," he responded but even as he spoke, the grass entwined itself in multiple strands around his legs and middle, yanking fiercely to pull him down onto his face. Where the blades slashed his skin, agonizing burning sensations roared up through his body. It was getting hard to breathe.
"Poison," gasped Zuklayka, still resisting but down flat on her back by now. "Hurry. Summon the Black..."
He could not hear her voice trail off. Whatever potent toxin was in those blades of grass had already made him awareness dim and his concentration falter. His last thought was an attempt to transform into the patron god of Danarak and failing.
V.
It seemed to take forever before Levon even realized he was trying to regain consciousness. With his enhanced healing, he usually fought off poison or severe trauma quickly, with immediate awareness. Now, trying to clear his head was a struggle. Drawing on his Kumundu techniques, he took in deep breathes which he held for a beat and then exhaled more slowly. At the same time, he visualized a dark cloud leaving through his nostrils with each outward breath.
He was hanging from his wrists, which were tied with rough cords up above his head. He could feel his toes barely touched a wooden surface. Most of his weight was supported by his wrists, and their upward position made breathing difficult. This was why crucifixion was such torture. Air moving across his skin told him he was naked.
None of this struck him so hard as the awareness that the Cat's-Claw had been taken from him. He had worn it day and night for twenty years, bonding with its energy, forming a union so strong that now he felt stricken at its loss.
His vision cleared. He was standing on a rude platform eight feet above a dirt clearing, the cords around his wrist tied to a stripped and polished wooden beam overhead. Zulayka was to his left, Ozara to his right, just beyond reach of an outstretched arm, and both were also naked and hanging from their wrists. He saw the blonde Holy One stirring and moving her head, but his own partner sagged with head down as if she would never awaken again.
Levon had taken only a second to determine how the two women are before he looked up to see what his general situation was. Cold fear tautened his spine like a frozen hand gripping it. Forty Veganorans, all wearing yellow and red painted stripes across their faces and down their arms stood glaring at him with murderous intent. Central to their assembly was an immensely obese old man wrapped in a white poncho which reached to his knees. His tightly curled hair was a dingy grey, as was the straggly beard along his chin. In one gnarled hand, he brandished a slim ebony wand. Swinging playfully in that elder's other hand, Wakimbe's Claw dangled by its chain.
So close! If Levon were free, he would have immediately have pounced upon the old shaman and wrested the talisman free. But his hands were swollen from congested blood, his arms had gone numb and there was no one he could free himself as matters now stood.
Then movement behind the shaman caught Levon's attention and he stopped breathing for a few seconds as he saw the Red Plant swing its enormous bulb toward him hungrily. A wooden frame twenty feet to a side was filled with dirt, and from that earth rose a thick woody stem which supported a dark red bulb larger than a human body. Surrounding the rear part of that bulb was a ring of stiff crimson leaves like a lion's mane. As Levon stared in horror and rage, that bulb swung its maw open to reveal the rows of serrated pointed... and it moved as if it could see him. On either side of the monstrous plant, three smaller but identical growths stirred and waved leaves without a wind to stir them.
"Behold, child of Danarak!" laughed the shaman. "The Red Flower hungers. It will be your honor to feed our new totem."
Levon Bingham replied in perfect Veganorese, in a low icy tone, "That is an abomination like no other. Before dawn, this world will be cleansed of its presence. I swear it!"
"Oh, do you now? Your words are as the breeze that passes and is forgotten. I, Egimbya, say otherwise. The six children of the Red One are ripe enough now to be taken from their beds. At dawn, six runners will carry them out into Outer Veganora and carefully place them where they will not be seen."
Behind Egimbya, the cultists cheered in sudden glee. "Yes! Yes!"
"And they in turn will drop seeds and their offspring will grow numerous. At first, they will eat insects and lizards, then rabbits and monkeys. And when they are big enough, unsuspecting Veganorans will draw too close and be consumed as well."
Off to one side, Zulayka retched without anything coming up. Not gifted with the enhanced recuperative powers of Levon and Ozara, she was having difficulty coming back to full awareness. When she raised her head, those normally acute eyes were dazed. "Azzalem...? What...?"
Turning back to face his followers, Egimbya shouted, "All the while, the blessed Red Flower will drop new seeds. We shall disperse into the world. All over Africa, then into Europe and America and into the East. They have no natural enemies. They are strong and fierce and ravenous. I tell you, brothers and sisters, that within our lifetimes we shall see great cities fall and proud civilization collapse as millions of Red Ones gnaw away at their foundations."
The uproar from the cult drowned out any further speech he intended to give. Instead, the shaman waited patiently, grinned so wide it seemed it must be painful. Finally, he tucked the ebony wand into his garment and crouched over a wicker basket which stood near his feet. Lifting its lid, he drew a common brown short-eared rabbit from it and held the beast up to head height.
In a flash, a flexible vine which ended in a sharp point shot up from the base of the Red Flower and whipped forward to impale the little creature. The vine shot back and thrust the squealing animal deep within the wide-opened gulf of that bud. The Red Flower did not chew. Its jaws clamped shut with the finality of a trap. In a second, streaks of brighter crimson lit up on its surface, the color of fresh blood.
The howling and frenzied dancing which erupted among the cultists could not have been halted even if the shaman had wanted to do so. He exulted at their glee. First he chuckled, then full-throated laughter shook his flabby body so waves rippled through the fat.
Ozara caught Levon's eye. "Now you see what I was trying to prevent! These fools want to infect the earth with these flesh-eaters."
The Cat's-Claw nodded somberly, his face tightened into an unreadable mask. "That is nothing Nature ever produced. Some sorcerer, a Dartha or a Nekrosim, has twisted life into this forbidden form."
"An abomination, as you said," she agreed. "I don't see a way to stop this nightmare.. But we are still alive. We still defy them and much can happen yet." As the shaman glanced back toward his prisoners, she called to him, "Grandfather! Come here! We must parley."
Egimbya tilted his head dubiously. "Parley? You have nothing to parley with, child. The three of you will provide a rare feast for our Red One."
"It is a fool who holds a great treasure and tosses it aside," she answered. "Listen to the secret I can gift you with."
Because of the commotion from the rioting cultists, the old man drew closer. "Eh? Are you talking about this trinket?" he said, swinging the Cat's-Claw from side to side.
The blonde girl smiled with her mouth, but her eyebrows remained lowered in a remarkably sinister way. "I know how to unlock its power, Grandfather. That is a major talisman in the Midnight War. The trick to summoning of the Black Lion is worth sparing my life, you must agree."
Egimbya considered for an unbearably long moment. "Tell me more."
"First, our pact. I will reveal the secret of Cat's-Claw to you, but we must both be outside this village. No weapons. In the Deep Woods, far from watching eyes, I will enlighten you and then I will rush up into the trees to safety."
"Not so fast," the shaman said. He held up the glossy talon only a foot away from Ozara's taut face. "You are known to be a trickster..."
Even as that word left his mouth, her left flashed up in a tight crescent kick and her heel cracked brutally against his hand, breaking his wrist. The talisman on its chain spun to the side. More desperate than he had ever been in his life, Levon Bingham stretched out his arm as far as possible and barely tangled a loop of that chain on one of his fingers. That was enough.
VI.
As if they somehow sensed the imminent danger to themselves, the Red Flower cultists froze in whatever position they held and swung their heads around. Where a human man had been hanging from his wrists on that platform, a glossy black beast bigger than a horse raised its head and fixed those merciless jade-green eyes upon them. The Black Lion reared up on its hind legs and unleashed a whiplash roar that echoed into the night as no sound had been released there since prehistoric times.
Egimbya was beyond knowing or caring. He had doubled up, clutching his chest, and fallen dead of cardiac arrest at the sight. As soon as the Black Lion roared, every cult member pelted away in complete panic, trampling those who fell, screaming in mindless terror. Many would never recover from witnessing the great beast but would be broken, mumbling wretches the rest of their lives.
Four powerful vines snaked rapidly across the ceremonial area to wrap around the Black Lion, tightening a grip more deadly than any python that ever lived. The giant beast was dragged a few steps against its will, but then it abruptly stopped resisting and instead pounced on the monstrous sorcerous plant. That bizarre mouth on the pod yawned wide in a frenzied attempt to engulf the leonine head. The Black Lion lunged in lower and clamped its own fanged jaws around the stem to bite completely through the tough woody material. Rising, the great beast threw the severed pod to one side, sending it rolling over the packed earth.
The sense of impending doom evaporated from the air. The Black Lion stomped its huge paws down upon the six seedling Red Ones, crushing them beyond hope of recovery. Wheeling about, the avatar of Wakimbe saw that none of the cult remained in sight. That immense maned head roared again, waking every animal for miles around and sending a flock of dozing birds up across the purple sky.
Then, with a shudder, the Black Lion shrank and dwindled down to a fraction of its size. Clad again in the ritual stalking suit, Levon Bingham rose from his hands and knees to stand upright. He staggered a few paces as full Human awareness returned to him before hurrying toward the platform.
Somehow the agile Ozara had wriggled loose of her bonds and seized a short knife which a fleeing cultist had left behind. The Holy One was gently lowering a still dazed Zulayka to the wooden surface and stretching her out.
"Those Red Ones are no problem now," Levon told her. He dropped to his knees and gingerly probed with his fingertips at the hot lump near the back of Zulayka's head. "I don't like this. She has a concussion. Even if we carry her through the barrier to Outer Veganora, the nearest medic is miles away."
"Even the wisest healers of my city Chu-Uviro would admit this is beyond their skill," Ozara agreed with deep regret in her voice. "Her eyes move to follow our voices but I do not think she will be able to rise."
Levon held one of Zulayka's hands in both of his. "If only I could give her some of my strength. I have enough for the both of us."
The blonde jungle girl was studying his face. "There may be a way to help your woman, Black Lion." Reaching into the leather cord which held her loincloth together, she pulled out a packet of dark purple leaves folded tightly together. "Quickly. Find something she can drink."
As Ozara tore the leaves into tiny scraps, Levon searched the area and returned with a gourd which he had dipped into a clay bucket of rainwater. He recognized the sharp minty aroma of those leaves. "Here, here, this is clean enough."
With infinite patience, Ozara fed one minute piece of the leaves into Zulayka's mouth and then tipped the gourd to the Danarakan's lips to spill a few drops after it. Zulayka was on the border of consciousness enough to swallow without choking. This process went on for several minutes.
"Her hand is getting warmer," Levon ventured to observe. "Am I giving myself false hope? I see light returning to her eyes."
"She is recovering," said Ozara. "There, that is the last of the purple leaves. Normally, I chew on them during the day to keep my vitality high. In fact, I eat very little else."
Levon did not address her statements. He realized that in some way this jungle girl had cultivated a garden of the Tagra herb. The Order of Tel Shai claimed to have the only specimens of this mystic plant, but there were rare instances of Tagra found existing in small amounts in the real word. It was tea made from Tagra that gave Tel Shai knights their great recuperative abilities.
The Cat's-Claw held his tongue. True, the Teachers at Tel Shai would have told him to follow this girl, to locate the Tagra patch and destroy it. They had decided long ago the secret of Tagra was not for most humans to know. But at the moment, he felt such relief and gratitude seeing Zulayka beginning to sit up that he dismissed the thought for now. He would deal with the Teachers later.
For her part, Ozara had wandered off and located her quiver and bow, as well as the hunting knife which had been taken from her. She returned with her weapons in hand. "Ah! It is good. She seems better already, Black Lion."
With Levon cradling her in his arms, Zulayka began to rise, then sighed and sagged down to let him hold her up. >"Azzalem," she whispered in the Jufari dialect. "The hungry plants are no more?"<
>"No, dear one,"< he replied. >"Our Wakimbe god destroyed them. How do you feel?">
>"Are my brains spilling out? I feel like there must be a crack in my skull?"<
""No, no,"< he laughed, >"Your head is tough as a coconut. You will live and be well. Ozara treated you with some obscure jungle medicine."<
Switching back to English, the Danarakan woman frowned at the blonde girl before managing to soften her voice, "Thank you, Holy One. Azzalem would not tell me that if I had not been near death. You have my gratitude."
Squatting near to the two strangers in her land, Ozara smiled back. "You should rest now, Zulayka. It will be a long time before those Red Flower worshippers dare return here!"
12/1/2021
10/8-10/12/2021
I.
The Land Rover died suddenly in the middle of the clearing. The dashboard screens went dark, the engine stopped and the massive vehicle rolled to a halt. Levon shifted into Park and took out the key. "And it seems this is as far as modern technology will function," he told his partner.
As she unbuckled her seat belt, Zulayka scowled at the trees fifty feet away. "Veganora! Past Heirs of Wakimbe have ventured here many times, Azzalem. You have not been called to come here until now."
"No. The Council decided unanimously that we should investigate the actions of this strange... 'jungle girl' and see what threat she might pose. So far, there are three dead men and one sighting of this blonde archer." In his late thirties, of medium height and built like a runner, Levon Bingham kept his hair so short that it looked as if he had shaved it and was letting it grow back. He was not as dark as his companion, more a rich medium brown in tone and his heavy-featured face showed a serious nature. The deepset eyes were surpringly bright green and lambent. Cat's eyes.
In contrast, Zulayka was a typical Danarakan, with skin so black it had a gloss to it. She was naturally pretty without make-up, and her hair had been straightened and pulled back into a bun. Like Levon, she was dressed for hiking with sturdy boots, loose khaki pants and a denim shirt. Both wore open vests with a number of pockets holding useful items. "My approval was not asked!" she said. "The rift between Inner Danarak and Outer Danarak is getting too strained to suit me. I think we should be in Honjabi in case of rioting."
The Cat's-Claw nodded and started to get out. "You have a point, Zulayka. As always. But whenever we disregard the Council's decisions, it always leads to endless meetings and long tiresome debates. I'd rather face any creature of the night than put up with that."
"Very well. The sooner we settle this nonsense, the sooner we can get back where we are really needed." She hopped out on her side, reached in the back seat to pull out her knapsack and walking staff. Levon was doing the same. He locked both doors manually with the key.
Seeing her quizzical look, he said, "I wouldn't put it past some curious monkey being able to open a door and get into our supplies. We'd come back to find the seats decorated with droppings." He patted his vest in a final check and hefted the six foot walking staff. The two longtime partners began striding through tough knee-high grass toward the line of trees.
"Do you feel unexpected reluctance?" Zulayka asked after a few minutes.
"Yes. Very much so. I'm... getting apprehensive without knowing why. If I didn't know this was a safeguard placed by Jordyn himself, I'd definitely be inclined to turn back."
She scoffed. "Outsiders to the Midnight War would be too afraid to go any further, Azzalem, but we know better. This is only an invisible barrier to keep people in the real world where they belong. Very few would have will strong enough to keep going."
"I bet it also keeps birds and animals from wandering in or out," Levon added. Each steps took more determination to complete, but at a certain point the mental resistance broke and they were walking freely through the Deep Woods.
It was surprisingly spacious under the canopy of interlocking branches high overhead, with plenty of open areas between the huge centuries-old trees and sparse underbrush. The heat and humidity were less here than out in the open, and sunlight slanting down through the leaves was scattered. As they hiked, Levon ventured the observation that the birds here were smaller and less colorful than in their own Danarak.
"Bah," replied Zulayka. "In every way, Veganora comes in a pale second to our homeland. Even the trees are not as sturdy. And of course, Veganora does not have a champion like you, Azzalem."
"The Cat's-Claw remains cool to the touch," Levon said. "It senses no hostile gralic force in the immediate area. We are still heading West, of course?"
"What do you think, that I become easily lost? In every realm, even Maroch, the Sun rises in the East and sets in the West. The stars in the night sky are also the same. We will spot the Three Queens easily enough."
"To the world outside Danarak, those stars are the belt of the hunter Orion," Levon said, hopping lightly over a fallen tree trunk well covered with moss. "And what we call the War Axe, the world refers to as the Big Dipper or the Great Bear."
"Our ancestors had a deeper feel for symbols and significance than the white men of so-called Classsical Greece," she retorted. "And much earlier, as well."
Levon let the bait for an argument pass. Twenty years of traveling with Zulayka had given him tolerance for her often caustic tongue and her habit of ranking Danarak above any other culture in the world or the adjacent realms. He had learned to let her remarks slide past him without friction.
Hours crawled by as they marched at a steady, unhurried pace both could maintain without strain. Down into rifts with steep sides and gradually back up again to crest hills, they had covered many miles before the sun touched the horizon ahead of them. Aside from birds and frogs and other small creatures, no animals had appeared.
Levon and Zulayka selected a defensible site to make camp, where the base of an ancient tree nudged up a rocky outcropping. Although he was granted superior night vision by the Cat's-Claw, they needed to rest at some point. Clearing a ten foot circle and assembling loose rocks into a platform, the Danarakans gathered more than enough stray branches and dried twigs to get a comfortable fire going that they could tend during the night.
They ate sparingly from their supplies, put on fresh socks and hung the ones they had been wearing up on a branch to air out, then sat discussing their mission for a while before turning in. Both were light sleepers even when tired. Between the Cat's-Claw and his Kumundu training at Tel Shai, Levon had enhanced hearing and sense of smell that gave him awareness of his surroundings sharper than that which a guard dog could have matched. With her stretched out next to him, Levon felt Zulayka's breathing change into a pattern that indicated genuine sleep.
He himself only dropped off after he felt certain no attack was imminent from the young woman watching them from high up in the trees.
II.
At noon the next day, they had stopped at a narrow fast-running stream to wash up and refill their canteens. Zulayka was telling her intention of shooting one of the brown rabbits spotted in the area, so they would have fresh meat and extend their dried food longer.
But Levon straightened and raised one hand in a hushing gesture. "I smell... apes. Not chimps, not gorillas but something unfamiliar."
His partner dropped her right hand to the revolver in its flap holster. "Cat's-Claw sharpens all your senses, Azzalem. Take the lead in this situation."
Massive shapes were moving through the concealment of the undergrowth, spreading out around them. Levon had already taken his knapsack off. Now he quickly shrugged out of his vest and began unbuttoning his shirt. Underneath, he was wearing a skintight black cotton stalking outfit. "I'm trying to remember if I'd read about any Veganoran apes, Zulayka. Maybe. Not much is coming to mind."
In another second, the Cat's-Claw was kicking off his hiking shoes to stand barefoot on the hot dirt beside the stream. He reached inside his tunic to pull out a finely-linked silver chain on which hung a glossy black talon seven inches long. The literal Cat's-Claw for which his role as champion of Danarak had been named.
Adult chimps five and a half feet high began emerging from the bushes. The fur was light grey, their eyes yellow and they stood easily upright without having to fall forward and support their weight on their arms. More alarmingly, several of them grasped thick tree branches which they brandished as clubs. The biggest of the strange apes, fully six feet tall and three hundred pounds, swung his bludgeon overheard and howled out a deep-throated challenge.
"The Black Lion will have them running in a second," Zulayka sneered.
But before Levon could draw upon his sacred manifestation, a slender bronzed form vaulted down from the trees to land lightly on fingertips and toes. The two Danarakans had only a flashing glimpse of a nearly naked young woman with a wild mane of bright yellow hair before she pounced on the leader of the grey apes and both went tumbling to the ground in a rolling mass of arms and legs.
The fight was over in mere seconds. With a yelp of pain and fear, the grey ape scuttled away and fell down as he tried to rise. Another attempt saw it get back up on his hind legs, clutching one paw to where red poured from a gash in his chest. The creature backed away, whimpering, and his retreat acted as a signal to the others. They all spun and ran off.
The newcomer did not have a scratch on her. After kneeling to wipe her wide-bladed knife on the grass, she rose and regarded the two Danarakan outsiders with an unfriendly gaze. No more than nineteen, tall and lean, she was wearing only a few gold ornaments and two pieces of tanned animal hide strapped to cover her crotch and across her breasts. The thick golden hair shone in the sunlight. Her oval face had ironically delicate features including full lips and bright sapphire blue eyes over a straight nose.
"I don't believe it!" Levon said, breaking the silence. "You should have been killed instantly. That beast was strong enough to rip you apart, and yet you're untouched. You're not even breathing hard!"
The young woman pressed a thumb to her chest. "I am Ozara, the Holy One. What are outsiders doing in my land?"
Zulayka started to make an angry retort but Levon interrupted quickly. "Not now," he said. "This is a time to weigh our words carefully. Ozara? We have come into Veganora because three men from this realm have been found in the forest beyond. Each had been killed by arrows. We have been sent to look into their deaths."
The golden girl sheathed her knife at her thin leather belt. It could be seen that she had flat pads of leather tied across her palms and the soles of her feet. If she frequently climbed high into trees, those would offer protection. "What happens to the people of Chu-Uviro is Chu-Uviro business and no one else's. Go back to the world outside. The Grey Apes are not the worst killers here. For the Red Dogs or Walking Vultures, you both would be easy prey."
"Wait, something's not right," Levon continued despite the annoyed glare he was being given. "Josef Jubilec, the Blind Archer, told us he met you here in Veganora back in 1998? 1999? Something like that. He described you as being a teenager back then and that was twenty years ago. Why haven't you aged? Are you the original Ozara's daughter?"
"There is only one Holy One," the blonde scoffed. She headed over to the tree from which she had dropped and retrieved a soft animal-hide quiver with a dozen arrows in it, as well as a slim six-foot bow. All these were hand-made. "I have told you to go back to the outside world, for your own safety."
"She doesn't seem like even twenty yet," Zulayka said, folding her arms across her chest. "Look at that complexion, like a baby's. I do not know what her true story is."
Stepping toward the self-described Holy One, the Cat's-Claw tried to make his voice mild and disarming. "Please, maybe you can help us. We have been sent here because three men were found dead not far into Outer Veganora. Killed by arrows, and here you are with a bow..."
"You do not wish to be the fourth, do you?" With those words, Ozara leaped straight up without crouching to seize a tree branch seven feet off the ground. She swung her legs up, perched atop the branch for an instant and scurried up out of sight into the greenery.
Watching from the ground, Zulayka took her hand away from her pistol and exhaled in relief. "Time to follow her. I imagine she thinks she will lose us, traveling through the trees that way. She's wrong, but then she does not know your abilities, Azzalem."
The Cat's-Claw nodded. "I have her scent."
Before setting out in pursuit, Levon Bingham packed away his outer clothing into his knapsack. He was revealed to be wearing a snug tunic and pants of black cotton, leaving his forearms and calves bare. Replacing the heaving boots were light slippers. Tucking the ancient talon back under his shirt, Levon slipped the knapsack straps over his shoulders and took off with an easy loping stride.
Zulayka followed easily enough. She was in as fine an athletic trim as he was, hardened by many expeditions into dangerous realms. For once, she kept silent and allowed her partner to follow the unique scent of the blonde jungle girl. Over the years, she had come to accept the physical advantages Levon held over any normal Human.
III.
The narrow trail had been beaten down into the soil by generations of Veganorans traveling between villages, and before that it had been created by animals going from the deep forest down to a waterhole. Thick brush and trees crowded the edges of this trail, constantly striving to obliterate it.
Panting, leaning over with his arms pumping, a Veganoran man sprinted up along this trail. He was wearing only rope sandals, a dingy loincloth and an American T-shirt that read SCARABS WORLD TOUR in red lettering. Like most Veganorans, he was tall and wiry with long arms and legs, his head shaven daily. Cradled in the crook of one arm was a bundle wrapped in coarse burlap.
Coming up behind him, closing fast, Ozara raced with an effortless pace that would have challenged Olympic records. She had an arrow fitted to the string. With the fleeing Veganoran only thirty feet ahead of her, the blonde jungle girl drew back on her bow and loosed the shaft, already drawing a second arrow from the quiver on her back.
And a muscular figure in black vaulted out from concealment directly in her path. Levon Bingham took one arrow in the pit of his stomach and the second in his right thigh, the impact knocking him down to sprawl beside the trail. Ozara rushed past him, letting a third arrow fly that thumped home between the fleeing native's shoulder blades. With a cry of pain, the man fell face down and dropped his burden as life left him with a final gasp.
Seeing that the Veganoran was dead, Ozara wheeled around. "You again! Fool, why did you get in my way like that?" But then she froze in surprise.
Levon had gotten back up and was calmly tugging the arrows out of his body. The leaf-shaped iron heads came out smoothly enough, leaving wounds which strangely were not bleeding. He held the arrows out to the Holy One. "Here. I believe these are yours."
"I do not understand," she said, staring wide-eyed. Finally, she accepted the arrows, wiped their heads with a handful of grass and slid them back into the quiver. "Why aren't you hurt?"
Zulayka had emerged from behind the trees and examined the holes in Levon's black stalking suit. "You heal faster than ever, Azzalem. It is too bad that man was murdered despite your brave intervention."
"Do you want to know why I was chasing him?" Ozara snapped. "Come. See for yourself what this Son of the Red Plant was trying to bring out into your world."
Switching to the Jufari dialect, Zulayka said, >"I will look, Azzalem. Do not trust this pink savage."<
>"We do not choose our skins,"< retorted Ozara in impeccable Jufari. Seeing the surprise on the outsiders' faces, she added, >"I speak many tongues. We can continue in French or German if you like."<
Not replying, Zulayka used the end of her staff to prod the bundle out from under the dead man's arm. She crouched low and cautiously pulled open the coarse fabric. "A...plant? But like nothing I have ever seen." She straightened up and held out a pot of baked clay, from which a thick stem stood. Topping that stem was a dark red bulb the size of a human fist, split horizontally by a line.
As she extended an index finger toward that strange growth, the bulb swung open along the line to become a mouth lined with serrated barbs. It snapped viciously and repeatedly. But Zulayka's reflexes were sharp and she pulled her hand back in time to avoid losing that finger. In a sudden rage, she dashed the pot to the dirt and smashed it with the butt of her staff. She made certain the odd bulb was crushed as well. "Hah! What kind of hellhole IS Veganora, anyway?"
Ozara could not hide a satisfied smirk. She placed a sterner expression on her piquant face before turning back to Levon. "You heal as quickly as I do. You are not Danarakan, nor are you from this land. American, yes?"
"Yes," Levon said. "We need to talk, Holy One. After seeing that attack plant, I suspect there is a real menace afoot here, and endangers both your territory and the outside world?"
"This is so. Come, walk with me. I will show you the Red Plant." She turned on her heel and began striding back whence she had come only a few minutes earlier. Snatching up his backpack from the side of the trail, Levon followed and Zulayka caught up with them.
As they moved under the green-tinged canopy of the intertwined branches high overhead, Ozara began, "I have lived here since infancy. The people of Chu-Uviro raised me when my parents died. They took me as their totem of good fortune and I have protected them against many threats. Outside invaders, unnatural beasts, wicked high priests.. I have fought them all."
Levon nodded solemnly. "I must tell you that I am a knight of Tel Shai, and I am the bearer of Wakimbe's Claw. So you may recognize that I am also a protector and defender."
"Ah! Of course I have heard of Tel Shai. Sometimes I venture into Outer Veganora and bring back both gossip and bundles of newspapers. Of course, I wear clothing the townspeople find more appropriate. The Cat's-Claw! Is it true about the Black Lion? Can you really turn into a gigantic invincible cat or is that a legend?"
"It is no fable," spat Zulayka from close behind them. "It is a sacred responsibility. Our God has fangs, little one. Hope that you never look upon them."
"We may need this Black Lion soon," the jungle girl responded evenly. Zulayka's caustic tone seemed lost on her. "In another mile, the Red Plant await us."
IV.
The deep drumming could be heard booming for miles, and the chanting in time to the thumping of bare feet was nearly as pervasive. Simple and repetitive as the ceremony sounded to be, it was also infectious.
"I won't be able to get that awful racket out of my head for days," Zulayka grumbled. "It's worse than Europop."
Trotting up the base of a massive tree big enough around to hide an elephant, Ozara glanced back over one elegant tanned shoulder at the outsiders. "Let me scout ahead first," she said. In an instant, she had leaped up to grasp a branch, swung herself up to stand on it before vanishing into the green confusion.
"Seriously, Azzalem," Zulayka whispered, "How DOES that little college coed do all these feats? Fighting an ape, running through the trees, staying young for nearly thirty years? What do you think?"
Levon replied in the same low tone, placing his head next to her ear. "I've been wondering if maybe she hasn't stumbled upon a source of the Tagra plant. Tea made from Tagra gives Tel Shai knights our healing factor, as well as keeping us active and nimble when we should be passing middle age."
"I always thought Tagra would not grow outside of Tel Shai."
"That's what I was always told," Levon shrugged. "Maybe there's another explanation..." His words were cut off by a hideous uproar of yelling voices as the drumming stopped abruptly.
"Sounds like your little pink princess wasn't as stealthy as she thought she was," Zulayka could not resist getting in a dig. But she was talking to a man who had already started running full tilt toward the commotion. She scowled more than usual and followed.
They found a wide expanse of waist-high thin-bladed grass which offered little cover unless they had dropped down to crawl, and urgency prohibited such caution. Before the two outsiders had gotten halfway across the meadow, they felt sharp pain in their legs. The edges of the grass were slicing through her khaki pants and his stalking suit more neatly than long razor blades would have.
"Ow! Ow! Wakimbe's Mercy, we must stop here, Azzalem," Zulayka said as she grabbed his forearm. "Bleeding to death will not help your precious Holy One."
"Yes. I...think you're right," he responded but even as he spoke, the grass entwined itself in multiple strands around his legs and middle, yanking fiercely to pull him down onto his face. Where the blades slashed his skin, agonizing burning sensations roared up through his body. It was getting hard to breathe.
"Poison," gasped Zuklayka, still resisting but down flat on her back by now. "Hurry. Summon the Black..."
He could not hear her voice trail off. Whatever potent toxin was in those blades of grass had already made him awareness dim and his concentration falter. His last thought was an attempt to transform into the patron god of Danarak and failing.
V.
It seemed to take forever before Levon even realized he was trying to regain consciousness. With his enhanced healing, he usually fought off poison or severe trauma quickly, with immediate awareness. Now, trying to clear his head was a struggle. Drawing on his Kumundu techniques, he took in deep breathes which he held for a beat and then exhaled more slowly. At the same time, he visualized a dark cloud leaving through his nostrils with each outward breath.
He was hanging from his wrists, which were tied with rough cords up above his head. He could feel his toes barely touched a wooden surface. Most of his weight was supported by his wrists, and their upward position made breathing difficult. This was why crucifixion was such torture. Air moving across his skin told him he was naked.
None of this struck him so hard as the awareness that the Cat's-Claw had been taken from him. He had worn it day and night for twenty years, bonding with its energy, forming a union so strong that now he felt stricken at its loss.
His vision cleared. He was standing on a rude platform eight feet above a dirt clearing, the cords around his wrist tied to a stripped and polished wooden beam overhead. Zulayka was to his left, Ozara to his right, just beyond reach of an outstretched arm, and both were also naked and hanging from their wrists. He saw the blonde Holy One stirring and moving her head, but his own partner sagged with head down as if she would never awaken again.
Levon had taken only a second to determine how the two women are before he looked up to see what his general situation was. Cold fear tautened his spine like a frozen hand gripping it. Forty Veganorans, all wearing yellow and red painted stripes across their faces and down their arms stood glaring at him with murderous intent. Central to their assembly was an immensely obese old man wrapped in a white poncho which reached to his knees. His tightly curled hair was a dingy grey, as was the straggly beard along his chin. In one gnarled hand, he brandished a slim ebony wand. Swinging playfully in that elder's other hand, Wakimbe's Claw dangled by its chain.
So close! If Levon were free, he would have immediately have pounced upon the old shaman and wrested the talisman free. But his hands were swollen from congested blood, his arms had gone numb and there was no one he could free himself as matters now stood.
Then movement behind the shaman caught Levon's attention and he stopped breathing for a few seconds as he saw the Red Plant swing its enormous bulb toward him hungrily. A wooden frame twenty feet to a side was filled with dirt, and from that earth rose a thick woody stem which supported a dark red bulb larger than a human body. Surrounding the rear part of that bulb was a ring of stiff crimson leaves like a lion's mane. As Levon stared in horror and rage, that bulb swung its maw open to reveal the rows of serrated pointed... and it moved as if it could see him. On either side of the monstrous plant, three smaller but identical growths stirred and waved leaves without a wind to stir them.
"Behold, child of Danarak!" laughed the shaman. "The Red Flower hungers. It will be your honor to feed our new totem."
Levon Bingham replied in perfect Veganorese, in a low icy tone, "That is an abomination like no other. Before dawn, this world will be cleansed of its presence. I swear it!"
"Oh, do you now? Your words are as the breeze that passes and is forgotten. I, Egimbya, say otherwise. The six children of the Red One are ripe enough now to be taken from their beds. At dawn, six runners will carry them out into Outer Veganora and carefully place them where they will not be seen."
Behind Egimbya, the cultists cheered in sudden glee. "Yes! Yes!"
"And they in turn will drop seeds and their offspring will grow numerous. At first, they will eat insects and lizards, then rabbits and monkeys. And when they are big enough, unsuspecting Veganorans will draw too close and be consumed as well."
Off to one side, Zulayka retched without anything coming up. Not gifted with the enhanced recuperative powers of Levon and Ozara, she was having difficulty coming back to full awareness. When she raised her head, those normally acute eyes were dazed. "Azzalem...? What...?"
Turning back to face his followers, Egimbya shouted, "All the while, the blessed Red Flower will drop new seeds. We shall disperse into the world. All over Africa, then into Europe and America and into the East. They have no natural enemies. They are strong and fierce and ravenous. I tell you, brothers and sisters, that within our lifetimes we shall see great cities fall and proud civilization collapse as millions of Red Ones gnaw away at their foundations."
The uproar from the cult drowned out any further speech he intended to give. Instead, the shaman waited patiently, grinned so wide it seemed it must be painful. Finally, he tucked the ebony wand into his garment and crouched over a wicker basket which stood near his feet. Lifting its lid, he drew a common brown short-eared rabbit from it and held the beast up to head height.
In a flash, a flexible vine which ended in a sharp point shot up from the base of the Red Flower and whipped forward to impale the little creature. The vine shot back and thrust the squealing animal deep within the wide-opened gulf of that bud. The Red Flower did not chew. Its jaws clamped shut with the finality of a trap. In a second, streaks of brighter crimson lit up on its surface, the color of fresh blood.
The howling and frenzied dancing which erupted among the cultists could not have been halted even if the shaman had wanted to do so. He exulted at their glee. First he chuckled, then full-throated laughter shook his flabby body so waves rippled through the fat.
Ozara caught Levon's eye. "Now you see what I was trying to prevent! These fools want to infect the earth with these flesh-eaters."
The Cat's-Claw nodded somberly, his face tightened into an unreadable mask. "That is nothing Nature ever produced. Some sorcerer, a Dartha or a Nekrosim, has twisted life into this forbidden form."
"An abomination, as you said," she agreed. "I don't see a way to stop this nightmare.. But we are still alive. We still defy them and much can happen yet." As the shaman glanced back toward his prisoners, she called to him, "Grandfather! Come here! We must parley."
Egimbya tilted his head dubiously. "Parley? You have nothing to parley with, child. The three of you will provide a rare feast for our Red One."
"It is a fool who holds a great treasure and tosses it aside," she answered. "Listen to the secret I can gift you with."
Because of the commotion from the rioting cultists, the old man drew closer. "Eh? Are you talking about this trinket?" he said, swinging the Cat's-Claw from side to side.
The blonde girl smiled with her mouth, but her eyebrows remained lowered in a remarkably sinister way. "I know how to unlock its power, Grandfather. That is a major talisman in the Midnight War. The trick to summoning of the Black Lion is worth sparing my life, you must agree."
Egimbya considered for an unbearably long moment. "Tell me more."
"First, our pact. I will reveal the secret of Cat's-Claw to you, but we must both be outside this village. No weapons. In the Deep Woods, far from watching eyes, I will enlighten you and then I will rush up into the trees to safety."
"Not so fast," the shaman said. He held up the glossy talon only a foot away from Ozara's taut face. "You are known to be a trickster..."
Even as that word left his mouth, her left flashed up in a tight crescent kick and her heel cracked brutally against his hand, breaking his wrist. The talisman on its chain spun to the side. More desperate than he had ever been in his life, Levon Bingham stretched out his arm as far as possible and barely tangled a loop of that chain on one of his fingers. That was enough.
VI.
As if they somehow sensed the imminent danger to themselves, the Red Flower cultists froze in whatever position they held and swung their heads around. Where a human man had been hanging from his wrists on that platform, a glossy black beast bigger than a horse raised its head and fixed those merciless jade-green eyes upon them. The Black Lion reared up on its hind legs and unleashed a whiplash roar that echoed into the night as no sound had been released there since prehistoric times.
Egimbya was beyond knowing or caring. He had doubled up, clutching his chest, and fallen dead of cardiac arrest at the sight. As soon as the Black Lion roared, every cult member pelted away in complete panic, trampling those who fell, screaming in mindless terror. Many would never recover from witnessing the great beast but would be broken, mumbling wretches the rest of their lives.
Four powerful vines snaked rapidly across the ceremonial area to wrap around the Black Lion, tightening a grip more deadly than any python that ever lived. The giant beast was dragged a few steps against its will, but then it abruptly stopped resisting and instead pounced on the monstrous sorcerous plant. That bizarre mouth on the pod yawned wide in a frenzied attempt to engulf the leonine head. The Black Lion lunged in lower and clamped its own fanged jaws around the stem to bite completely through the tough woody material. Rising, the great beast threw the severed pod to one side, sending it rolling over the packed earth.
The sense of impending doom evaporated from the air. The Black Lion stomped its huge paws down upon the six seedling Red Ones, crushing them beyond hope of recovery. Wheeling about, the avatar of Wakimbe saw that none of the cult remained in sight. That immense maned head roared again, waking every animal for miles around and sending a flock of dozing birds up across the purple sky.
Then, with a shudder, the Black Lion shrank and dwindled down to a fraction of its size. Clad again in the ritual stalking suit, Levon Bingham rose from his hands and knees to stand upright. He staggered a few paces as full Human awareness returned to him before hurrying toward the platform.
Somehow the agile Ozara had wriggled loose of her bonds and seized a short knife which a fleeing cultist had left behind. The Holy One was gently lowering a still dazed Zulayka to the wooden surface and stretching her out.
"Those Red Ones are no problem now," Levon told her. He dropped to his knees and gingerly probed with his fingertips at the hot lump near the back of Zulayka's head. "I don't like this. She has a concussion. Even if we carry her through the barrier to Outer Veganora, the nearest medic is miles away."
"Even the wisest healers of my city Chu-Uviro would admit this is beyond their skill," Ozara agreed with deep regret in her voice. "Her eyes move to follow our voices but I do not think she will be able to rise."
Levon held one of Zulayka's hands in both of his. "If only I could give her some of my strength. I have enough for the both of us."
The blonde jungle girl was studying his face. "There may be a way to help your woman, Black Lion." Reaching into the leather cord which held her loincloth together, she pulled out a packet of dark purple leaves folded tightly together. "Quickly. Find something she can drink."
As Ozara tore the leaves into tiny scraps, Levon searched the area and returned with a gourd which he had dipped into a clay bucket of rainwater. He recognized the sharp minty aroma of those leaves. "Here, here, this is clean enough."
With infinite patience, Ozara fed one minute piece of the leaves into Zulayka's mouth and then tipped the gourd to the Danarakan's lips to spill a few drops after it. Zulayka was on the border of consciousness enough to swallow without choking. This process went on for several minutes.
"Her hand is getting warmer," Levon ventured to observe. "Am I giving myself false hope? I see light returning to her eyes."
"She is recovering," said Ozara. "There, that is the last of the purple leaves. Normally, I chew on them during the day to keep my vitality high. In fact, I eat very little else."
Levon did not address her statements. He realized that in some way this jungle girl had cultivated a garden of the Tagra herb. The Order of Tel Shai claimed to have the only specimens of this mystic plant, but there were rare instances of Tagra found existing in small amounts in the real word. It was tea made from Tagra that gave Tel Shai knights their great recuperative abilities.
The Cat's-Claw held his tongue. True, the Teachers at Tel Shai would have told him to follow this girl, to locate the Tagra patch and destroy it. They had decided long ago the secret of Tagra was not for most humans to know. But at the moment, he felt such relief and gratitude seeing Zulayka beginning to sit up that he dismissed the thought for now. He would deal with the Teachers later.
For her part, Ozara had wandered off and located her quiver and bow, as well as the hunting knife which had been taken from her. She returned with her weapons in hand. "Ah! It is good. She seems better already, Black Lion."
With Levon cradling her in his arms, Zulayka began to rise, then sighed and sagged down to let him hold her up. >"Azzalem," she whispered in the Jufari dialect. "The hungry plants are no more?"<
>"No, dear one,"< he replied. >"Our Wakimbe god destroyed them. How do you feel?">
>"Are my brains spilling out? I feel like there must be a crack in my skull?"<
""No, no,"< he laughed, >"Your head is tough as a coconut. You will live and be well. Ozara treated you with some obscure jungle medicine."<
Switching back to English, the Danarakan woman frowned at the blonde girl before managing to soften her voice, "Thank you, Holy One. Azzalem would not tell me that if I had not been near death. You have my gratitude."
Squatting near to the two strangers in her land, Ozara smiled back. "You should rest now, Zulayka. It will be a long time before those Red Flower worshippers dare return here!"
12/1/2021