The Wild Lands: Legend of the Wild Man (17 page)

The wind whistled louder. The
vultus
fell faster. Finally, just a half second before Skup was about to
retake control, it spread its huge wings and glided out, away from
the cliff face. Skup's own arms rose up as the bird's did. He
pumped them as the
vultus
did. He did not try to control the
Evanimal but reinforce its actions. They moved fluidly, naturally.
The two were one.

Skup loved to let his
vultus
guide
him. It couldn't have complete control as long as he was in the
Amplification room, for technology allowed his mind to override the
bird's own muscles, but the two were a team. After piloting the
vultus
for years he could follow its actions or direct them.
The trick was to relax, and let his own body move with the bird's.
He understood the anatomy of the
vultus
well enough that if
he moved with it, he could go along for the ride, or take subtle
control. Skup was a sort of human feedback machine. He amplified
and accentuated the bird’s actions. Some of the nuances and
subtleties of the bird's movements and motives were lost, but Skup
could give the bird more autonomy than any other pilot, except his
sister Urea and her
panthera
.

There were times when he could not tell which
of the pair was mimicking which. His sister blurred the line
between freedom and control with eloquence and grace. Skup had to
admit the two working together was a nothing less than a divine
masterpiece. Skup felt that he understood the delicate balance his
sister struck with her feline. He relaxed and let the kingcrow
behave naturally.

Despite Baucis's private criticism of the
Naturalists, Skup thought there was something very beautiful about
Nature, especially the animals. They showed no hesitation, no idle
thought or speculation in their minds. They had motives and
desires, and they acted upon them. Friends existed, and enemies;
the
vultus
flock that Skup worked with certainly had more to
their minds than eat, sleep and reproduce. They had past times,
hang ups, quirks, even favorite foods, yet none of it slowed them
down. Their mind served their body as much as their body served
their mind. They were engaged with their environment and operated
their mind within the world around them, instead of in isolation
from it. They were closer to their bodies than the Citizens were,
and not confined by artificial limits.

Skup found it ironic that he had never given
any thought to his own body until he began using it to control the
Evanimals. Only then did he realize the strength of his muscles,
the grace of his bones. He found that after working with the
Evanimals for as long as he had his own intuition had heightened.
He trusted his instincts as much as he trusted the Evanimals. He
found it peculiar that the pilots primarily flexed their own
intellect and intuition through Evanimals, but the entire
experience was so enjoyable, that it was easy to forget.

The
vultus
had gained speed and soared
upwards. Normally at this point in the flight Skup would guide it
over the Gardens, looking for any intruders, testing the limits of
its sight, but today the
vultus
was distracted. It flew
upwards in tight circles towards the roost.

Skup smirked to himself. It seemed the bird
didn't like being up before the sun after all. He flapped his arms
with the birds, and soon found himself sweating. The
vultus
was working hard to get back to the nest. Surely it wouldn't waste
so much energy if it only wanted to go back to sleep.

Skup thought back to the bird’s fascination
with the cliff face. Maybe the goat had been closer than he
realized. Few animals ventured near the kingcrow nest, but the bird
wouldn't misinterpret its own senses. Even if it was half blind, it
had a keen sense of smell that Skup was oblivious to. The self
proclaimed Scavenger pilot could wait to explore the jungle. If the
vultus
flock awoke to him devouring a meal, they'd humbly
beg for scraps, and reinforce his place as Alpha. The pair had to
work harder since losing the bird's eye. If his bird could catch
food before dawn with one eye he'd prove his power to the flock.
Besides, the sustenance from a fresh meal would supply him with all
he needed for a day's work.

With eager anticipation, Skup peered at the
approaching cliff. It looked to be another day of life and death,
predator and prey. Skup let out a yip and the
vultus
screamed into the night.

And when they awake we will have three choices... it
may seem no choice at all but its the same for every question:
fight, run or die.

“CAWWW!” The shriek stings Kao's ears. He
turns to see the kingcrow, black against sparkling stars. Its wings
drive it higher. Its altitude threatens the tribesmen.

Kao looks back at the nesting grounds of the
kingcrows. They stir, woken by the call of their leader. If all are
possessed by the Hidden, death will be swift. This one must be, or
it would not have given away its position so early in its attack.
It could be trying to scare the tribesmen, but kingcrows are too
deadly to use fear as a tool. The Hidden may not be so brash.

The hunter clings to the cliff face and
fingers a prong broken from the rack of antlers the hermit still
wears. The bird can still see with one eye. Kao intends to change
that.

The hermit, frightened from his wits, slips
and rocks tumble down the ledges. He is close to the jungle below,
much closer than Kao. The hide flutters as he hurries. The kingcrow
hears the sounds and points its beak straight at the hermit. It
beats its wings once more, lifts itself above the moon in the sky,
then aligns its body with its hooked beak and dives at the hermit.
Camouflage is pointless. The hermit screams and scurries, fast as
he can.

The bird had not known where they were. The
call had been a bluff, a trick to see if it could scare anything
into revealing itself in the weak light. The hermit, never hunter,
fell for an old trick.

Neither will make it to the trees without a
fight. They are too high up, the path too treacherous. If the
hermit throws the leather... its movement in the low light might be
enough to distract the bird and allow them time to escape. Like
their last bout, this battle will be settled by cunning and
surprise, not brute strength. Kao edges along the rocky paths. When
the kingcrow attacks, he must be in range.

“GRAAK-GRA-CAWWW!” the bird shrieks louder as
it dives at the hermit. It has one chance to snatch the hermit in
its talons, if it misses the feeble old man may make it to the
treeline. The hunter glances once more at the awakening kingcrow
flock. They are curious and intently watch their leader, but are
still oblivious to his presence. If he can kill the Hidden's bird
the flock may not strike before the hermit makes it to the safety
of the jungle.

Kao takes aim. He has an even smaller window
of attack then the bird. Too early, and the bird will bank from its
dive and return moments later to attack him directly. Too late and
the bird will gore the hermit with its talons, and Kao will have to
settle for bitter revenge.

In seconds its wings reach across the entire
sky as the winged killer descends upon the hermit. It beats its
wings to slow its dissent and splays its talons wide in a razor
sharp attack. Close. Closer.

A ray of sunlight reflects off the bird's
undamaged eye. Kao tightens his grip on his prongblade and tenses
his body, ready to uncoil his muscles in one fluid strike. Time
slows as adrenaline heightens his senses and prepares his body for
his mind's commands. He envisions the blade piercing the bird's
round eye, blood and fluids spray upon the hermit. The bird can
still hurt the two if blind, but it can also fall to its death in
eternal darkness. Its feathers ripple as it raises its talons high.
The moment before attack. The hunter uncoils, timing his throw
perfectly with the bird’s path. The blade will pierce the bird's
eye and then-- with the bird's own velocity-- drive the blade into
its brain.

The kingcrow descends with the sun rays. As
the earth spins, the sun moves above the mountains on the far side
of the caldera below them. Light spills upon the mountain face. The
blade turns golden in the sun as it flies towards the kingcrow.

Curse the sun and all its radiant beauty! The
kingcrow shrieks an insult and Kao's perfect attack is foiled by
glorious light. It illuminates the blade at the last moment,
surprise is lost.

The kingcrow reels high, calling and crowing
to other members of its flock. They leap off the cliff and into the
air. They build speed as they race the sunlight towards the bottom
of the mountain before banking back up and returning to the calls
of their leader.

A dozen are in the air, soon there will be
twice that.

“Go!” Kao yells, but he knows in his gut that
it is too late. The hermit is not sure footed enough on the steep
slope. He can move rapidly, but the birds are faster, meaner, and
hungry. They will not let an old man outrun them.

The tribesmen must fight the birds, and Kao
fears they will lose.

So Kao scrambles towards the hermit. He leaps
when he can, falls when he must, all the time he pumps pheromones
into the air. He cannot drive away the entire flock, but if he can
make them unsure of their prey, force them to hesitate, maybe he or
the hermit will survive the morning.

Undaunted, one of the birds flies in close.
Kao lashes out with his prongblade. The edge finds flesh. The
kingcrow shrieks and flies off in a cloud of feathers. He needed to
kill it. It was a test and he failed.

The flock dive bombs him and the hermit, one
after the other. As soon as the hunter beats off one bird, the
next's talons are already scratching at his back.

Kao stabs his blade at them. He misses most,
injures a few. He yowls and roars. If he wore the skull he had won,
he would do better. There are dozens of prongs on it and Kao could
make each find its mark. Instead, it prolongs the hermit's life.
The old man clings to the rock face beneath the antlers and thick
hide. The leather is tough and no talons pierce it, yet.

The one-eyed kingcrow calls again,
“Ca-Caro-CAWWW!” and the pace of attack quickens. No breaks between
swipes of talons.

They tear at his shoulders, his back. He
swings the prongs embedded in his arm and connects. The bird
crumples and tumbles down the mountainside. It crashes into the
forest below. Kao hears bones snap as it falls. He vows he will not
leave Father Mountain like that.

The hermit is hidden now, surrounded in
bodies and feathers. Kao hears the old man's screams and prays he
is not injured. Kao tries to move down the cliff, but the kingcrows
viciously peck and claw at each outstretched limb. They pin him in
place. He can hardly see past their attacks or the mess of feathers
he has clawed from them. He kicks out at a bird and knocks it
breathless. It plummets to the earth. Finally, he catches a glimpse
of the hermit. For a moment, no crows attack him.

“No!” wrenches itself free from Kao's throat.
One-eye drops from the sky and effortlessly scoops the hermit up in
his talons. The Hidden's bird turns towards the bone-white totem.
Kao's rope dangles from the hermit.

The hunter has one chance.

Kao howls and throws himself from the cliff
face.

For an adrenaline fueled moment Kao thinks he
might catch the bird itself, but gravity catches him and he falls.
His rope dangles in front of him, he snatches it and it snaps
tight. One-eye turns to see what slows it. It deftly slices the
rope with its beak.

Gravity clutches Kao.

He falls, clinging to a rope that is tied to
nothing. The murder of kingcrows fall with him, each eager to take
the kill for themselves now that their Alpha is gone.

Kao reels in his rope then throws a loop out
and around one the birds necks. In the air, the rope pulls Kao to
the bird and the bird to Kao. They collide, and Kao pitches his leg
over the bird's back and in front of its wing. He nestles the other
down into place on the opposite side of he bird's body and kicks,
hard
.

The kingcrow pumps its wings furiously, not
wanting to be crushed under its meal's weight. Their fall slows,
but they do not rise like One-eye and the hermit. Kao is much
larger and his mount smaller. Instead of flying the two glide. Kao
digs his heels into the bird, but no matter how hard the kingcrow
struggles to throw its rider, the two fall together. They weigh too
much for the bird's wings.

Undaunted, Kao looks to the earth, now
quickly approaching. The jungle below him no longer offers the
protection he dreamed of. He looks beyond it to the river that
divides the jungle from the fields that surround the bone-white
Totem. They can make the distance, but the splash into water could
be deadly. The kingcrow must break his fall.

Kao reaches out far with each hand, and grabs
the birds wings. He unhooks his feet from its body and lays on top
of its back. His arms are outstretched like the crow's, and he
fights to keep the wings stable with all his strength. The river
races closer faster than the ground races up.

The crow tries to lose its rider but Kao
gores the bird's wing with the prongs stuck in his arm. It
screeches in pain and does not make any more attempts to shake
him.

Faster and faster they fall. The river is
almost underneath them. Both know the crow cannot pull up from the
water now, they fall too fast, the river comes too quickly.

“Your prize!” The feeble hermit's voice,
again impossibly strong. Kao sees a falling star in the morning
light, dropped by the hermit in a cloud of feathers. The hide, his
weapons.
Too late old man.
The bird disagrees, and
interprets the falling light for the omen that it is. Kao tries to
keep the crow beneath him but the bird is mad with terror. It
throws all of its weight to the side and they spin. Kao tries to
resist the motion but cannot. The crow needs to be break his fall
when the two hit water.