Chapter 21

Act 3

Scene 7

Paul, Evan, and Peter, Ambrose's youngest brother, all had to laugh when Lewis showed up at the lift. He was trying to get his britches tie string tied, with three young girls all helping. Face flaming red, he finally just stepped on the lift, holding his rawhide trousers up with one hand and fending off the girls with the other. The older men were no help, in fact, when he looked to them for sympathy, or even succor, they laughed in his face at his predicament.

Peter, put both hands on his hips, leaned back and laughed out loud when his cousin Emily, the youngest at ten, topped off Lewis' embarrassment by sneaking a kiss on his cheek. When Lewis turned and glared in indignation, Peter said, in a stern tone, "Now, you be tellin' her father you want to come courtin' boy!"

Lewis sputtered in shocked outrage as the girls, on the platform above, having heard Peter's jest, tittered into their hands. It was to the tinkling laughter of four young girls that they finally arrived on the ground. Lewis grumbled, "They're too young!"

Peter scoffed, "Too young? Why, Emily, be the same age as me wifes' were when we started courtin'."

With a smirk, Evan added, "Remember, Lewis, different strokes for different folks. Hell, before 1900, a woman was an old maid if she hadn't married by fourteen. Even as late as the 1950's, women who didn't marry before they turned 18 were considered to be on the way to spinsterhood."

With his lopsided grin, Paul stuck the knife in. "Face it son. They all think you are great future husband material. Especially since they can't have seen too many eligible bachelors that weren't at least first cousins. You might as well pick out one or two now for your first wives."

Peter looked at Paul and asked, "Where art thy wives then? I be thinkin' o' several girls for thy bed as well."

Paul stopped in shock, mouth-hanging open, he sputtered but no words came out. Lewis, enjoying the turnabout, gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder as he walked passed. With a snide tone, Lewis reproached his father, "So, Dad, do you like 'em young like Emily? Or do you want ones that at least have a set of tits?"

Now, it was Evan's turn to laugh at Paul's wordless sputtering and pained expression. Paul snapped his eyes to his brother-in-law. In a tone of deep amusement, Paul said, "Evan, don't think you'll be getting off scot-free! I wonder how Kimber will take to sharing?"

Evan sputtered, and face turned red. Paul pressed on, "As much fun as it is to try to set Lewis' hair on fire, and joke about it, what are we going to do? I mean, is there a way back? If not, what should we do with our lives? I can't stand by and abide slavery, and even free women aren't much better then chattel even here!"

Peter ended the discussion once and for all, when they left the protective walls of Huntersville. He said, "Ye all best be alert, now. Soon, we be enterin' the swamp. Be wary and be ready."

"Can I at least get a gun dad?" Lewis asked worriedly.

Paul shook his head. "If I knew you could maintain fire discipline in a close ambush, then yes. But I'm afraid you'd be more dangerous to us than to the enemy right now."

As they passed the penned up Enormoceros, Paul and Evan stopped to stare up at the huge, placid looking beasts. A teenaged boy sat astraddle the neck of the great beast, three times their height in the air. He used a whip, flicked delicately at first one ear then the other to direct the enormous beast. Paul shook his head in disbelief.

Turning to Evan, Paul said, "I can't imagine how they even thought that those things could be domesticated, let alone found a way to succeed."

"Yeah, that things gotta mass what? Double what a bull African Elephant does? Somewhere north of twenty tons?"

Peter gave a cheerful wave at the lad astride the huge beast. "Hi ho, Breton! How be the view?"

His muscles stretched taut as the youth swung down from above, hanging on a rope harness about the great beast's neck and shoulders. He hung outstretched from the bottom of the harness hanging off of the Enormoceros shoulder, and dropped the last eight feet to the ground. Clasping hands with Peter, he said, "Uncle, the forest be unsettled. I be not seeing the cause, but I know enow for thee to beware."

Peter clapped his nephew on the shoulder with a laugh. "Hath thou not heard? Me name be caution."

As they moved from the clearings near the village towards the dense underbrush, Peter swung his bow to his left, drew and loosed, all in the blink of an eye. By the time Paul turned to see what he had targeted, Peter was already knocking another arrow. Peter checked the edge of the underbrush then strode toward where he had shot his arrow.

Curious, Paul and Evan followed cautiously, with Lewis trailing behind. Peter pushed aside some vines and exposed a still quivering rabbit impaled through both eyes to a tree by his arrow. Only one thing stood out about the rabbit, it had to weigh nearly twenty pounds. Paul stood admiring the shot then watched in wonderment as Peter pulled the arrow shaft out of the tree where it had been buried a good six inches!

Paul exclaimed, "That's the biggest damned rabbit I've ever seen! Jesus, that was a damned fine shot, and that is one powerful bow! Could I see it for a moment?"

Peter shrugged, and handed Paul his bow as he proceeded to pull the limp Jack off of the arrow and wiped the shaft clean on the pelt. Paul took an archer's stance and took an experimental tug at the bowstring. Then, with all his might, he tried to draw the bow, but only managed to draw it six inches. He whooshed his pent up breath out and stared in amazement at the bow, whistled silently, and handed the bow to Evan, who repeated his test, with the same results.

Evan looked at Paul in puzzlement. He asked, "How can the draw on this be so high? It must be at least three-hundred pounds!"

Paul shook his head in disbelief. He asked Peter, "What are the bowstring and bow made out of, and how can you even pull it?"

Peter took and unstrung his bow. He pulled out a wicked looking dagger, nearly two feet long. Peter answered their unspoken question, first, "In the wilds, with less then ten stout companions, tis best to be prepared to fight at close quarters. We hath not enow eyes to be espying danger, and if it be coming on mine quarter, this here pig-sticker be just the thing. As to the bow, tis made of dragon bone and the string be pure wolf-spider silk. And I told you I was the strongest of my brothers, mayhap not as fast as Ambrose, nor as agile as Adam."

With that, he grinned ferally, and brandished the knife, or short sword, in the direction they had to go. He led off and stopped occasionally to point with the knife at interesting or dangerous wildlife and plants. The first thing that Peter pointed out to them was what he called the Spider Plant. They stared in fascination at what looked like the potted plant from home, except for the fangs set at the base of each runner and the webs strung between them, in a sticky trap.

Evan shook his head. "This place is so damned strange. How can all of these things have properties of other creatures like that?"

Paul considered a moment. Finally, he answered, "The difference here is that something here allows different species, apparently even from completely different phylum, to crossbreed. How the hell a plant, which shares so little DNA with an animal and has a different number of chromosomes, and a completely different method of sexual reproduction, could possibly crossbreed with any animal, even a spider, is beyond me. It must be part of the magic of this place."

Paul took one last look at the Spider Plant through his Polaroid lenses. Each strand of the spider web coursed with the strange light he'd seen by the mushrooms before. The remembrance spurred him to ask, "Peter, what do you call the huge puffball mushrooms that are surrounded by bones?"

Peter stopped suddenly, and gave Paul a fearful look. "Where didst thou see such?"

Nonplussed, Paul replied, "Near the boats, while I did a bit of scouting. Why? Are they dangerous?"

Peter snorted. "Dangerous? Sleepballs be near the most dangerous thing hereabouts. One whiff of their spore, and thou wouldst sleep while the fungus consumes thee. How didst thou know enow of the danger to be avoiding them?"

"I could see a pile of bones lying at the base. That was enough to make me wary, but I also could see strange tendrils of different colored light."

"Tis passing strange. I know not of such light. T'wouldst be best to show me where thou hast found the Sleepballs. I shalt deal with them by fire from afar. Left unchecked, they wouldst soon dot the forest, and kill all too much of the game."

They followed the same course they had taken the previous day. The scuffed dirt, broken stems and branches clearly showed where they had traversed the swamp in the opposite direction only yesterday. The constant distant cacophony of the myriads of sea birds nesting on the coast seemed like the roar of a distant waterfall, all encompassing and pervasive. It made picking out the individual sounds of closer dangers difficult. Peter took the lead, long knife held at the ready.

Just as they were coming to the clearing around the pond, Peter explained that the pond was fed by a fresh water spring, so always drinkable, even when the tide rose, Peter stiffened, and cocked an ear. Paul, Lewis and Evan looked at each other, but couldn't make out a sound in the constant uproar of the nearby wildlife that might have set Peter so on edge. Peter continued to listen, to whatever he was listening to, but his eyes darted about their surroundings, searching.

Evan whispered, "What is it? What do you hear?"

Peter gave him an intense look, he cried, "Wolf-hawks! A whole pack by the sounds of it, and they be on our back trail."

Paul said, "Wolf-hawks? What are they?"

"Dangerous pack hunters they be. Half wolf, half hawk, they run and hunt by scent like wolves, but can fly and have fierce talons making their stoop their most fearsome attack. We must make haste, and get back into the forest on the other side of the pond!" With that, Peter whirled and began to sprint around the churned mud at the edge of the pond.

Evan and Paul turned to gape at each other in astonishment, then Paul gave Lewis a shove to get him started and they all stumbled into a run after Peter. Halfway around the pond, they first heard the howls behind them, even over the pounding of their feet on the sand and their labored breathing. Peter had already reached the point where the path they'd been following plunged back under the triple canopy of the forest, skidded to a stop, and frantically strung his bow and knocked an arrow.

As the timber of the howls suddenly rose, Paul risked a quick glance over his shoulder back toward where they'd exited the forest on the far side of the pond. What he saw when he did, caused him to stumble and he almost fell. Nearly a dozen of what seemed to be brown wolves ran to the edge of the pond leapt into the air and snapped open seven-foot long, hawk like wings! As they beat their wings to gain altitude, Peter fired his arrow. The arrow streaked over two hundred feet and struck the first beast in the throat, burying itself up to the fletching and plunging all the way through its neck to emerge spattered with gore. Stricken, the beast croaked its agony, its wings folded, and it flipped end over end to land in the center of the pond with a tremendous splash.

Peter cried, "Hurry, they be on thee in seconds!" He knocked another arrow and loosed. Again, the arrow flew unerringly and struck the nearest square in the chest, as its wings folded and it plunged toward the pond's surface, the others let out a fearful howl and dove toward three fleeing humans.

Paul caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, dove forward and shoved Lewis toward the forest. He grabbed for his pistol as he rolled onto his back just in time to see one of the beasts diving toward Evan's unprotected back with wicked two-inch talons on its extended raptor-like front legs. With a two-handed grip, he began firing, and it took six shots before the beast crashed into the shore. Evan, besmeared by the mud of the beast's splashdown, belatedly fumbled to pull his rifle off of his shoulder.

Only an incoming whoosh of air, and a brief snarl gave Paul any warning as a fourth of the wolf-hawks stooped down on him. In desperation, he tried to bring his pistol to bear, but knew the beast was too close, with its two-inch talons extended to disembowel him. Suddenly, only thirty feet away, an arrow streaked in and plunged through the shoulder of the beast. The arrow was not instantly fatal, but the pain distracted the beast enough that its furious concentration on him, its prey, was broken. Suddenly, the wolf-hawk back winded, intent on slowing its plunge and regaining altitude.

The wolf-hawk came almost to a stop only a dozen feet away, just as he brought it into the sights of his 9mm. Three quick shots; chest, throat and mouth, brought it tumbling down into the shallow water at the edge of the pond. With the loud, rapid-fire, sharp retorts of his pistol, and four of their pack inexplicably down, the others broke off, snarling and howling their anger, confusion, and frustration. The second wolf-hawk that Peter had shot, was making slow progress toward shore, with its lips pulled back in a snarl.

Trying to keep an eye on the remaining eight creatures, flying out of sight then diving into view at random spots over the trees, and moving at sixty miles per hour was a losing proposition. Evan, rifle to his shoulder, screamed, "Come on! Go! Get into the woods, I'll cover you!"

Paul grabbed a fresh clip from his pocket. Rolling to his feet, he released the clip, snapped the fresh one home, and jacked a round into the chamber. Paul crouched low, and headed for where Lewis had stumbled into the brush when he'd shoved him to safety. Keeping his eyes on the sky, trying to look everywhere at once, Paul ordered, "Come on Lewis! Get the lead out! We have got to get out of here!"

Lewis staggered out of the brush, spitting leaves and wiping the muck from his face. Puzzled he asked, "Why? Why'd you shove me in the back? What's going on? What were you shooting at?"

Paul grabbed Lewis by the scruff, and still searching the sky, forced his son's head toward the fallen wolf eagle floating only a dozen feet away, then, he pointed to the one floundering toward shore. He growled, "That's why. There's still at least eight of them up there, all just waiting for a chance to sink their teeth into us. Now, let's go!"

Lewis had to tear his eyes off the downed wolf-hawk to keep from falling on his face as his father pushed him along by the scruff of his neck. When he saw his Uncle Evan backing towards Peter's position, with them both holding their weapons ready to fire, and three other wolf-hawk corpses, he broke into a run. As Lewis and Paul crashed onto the forest path, first Evan, then Peter whirled to follow them.

Panic gave Lewis' long legs strength, and he began to pull away from his father and the others. Pounding along the path that they'd taken only the night before, it took nearly a minute for his father's frantic calls to break through to him. Only then did he force down his panic, and come to a stop. Lewis slumped to his knees and blinked the tears out of his eyes to look at his trembling hands.

Peter, then Paul and Evan ran up. Lewis hung his head and sobbed, "You were right dad. I panicked and froze."