Wild Born
Page 22
From the bare ridgetop, Abeke got her first view of the farthest side of the island. The opposite slope descended sharply to the sea. By the moonlight, she could discern the coastline, partly shielded from the open water by long sandbars. There was no other land in sight. Her eyes were drawn to a pale beach in a certain cove, due to the presence of two bonfires. To blaze so brightly at this distance, the fires had to be an impressive size. Figures moved on the beach, dark specks occasionally illuminated by the firelight.
“Look down there,” Abeke said. “Who could that be?”
Crouching low, Uraza watched warily beside her.
Abeke squinted, straining her sight. “Hard to tell from up here. They’re a long way from the outpost. Could it be pirates? Shane said all ships have to watch out for pirates lately.”
Uraza remained still beside her.
Abeke wondered if Shane’s people knew they were sharing the island. Could the figures on the beach pose a threat? It seemed unlikely. There were dozens of people at the sturdy outpost, many of them armed soldiers and most with spirit animals. Three big ships waited in the lagoon. Shane had mentioned others coming soon, distinguished visitors. Could it be them on the beach? Wouldn’t visitors come directly to the outpost?
“I don’t like this,” Abeke murmured. “I don’t want to risk anybody sneaking up on Shane and his people. Think we could get close without being spotted?”
In reply, Uraza flicked her tail and started down the slope toward the cove. Abeke followed.
Soon they passed beneath trees again. Abeke took extra care to move silently. This was no longer a game. The people on the beach could be dangerous.
A balmy breeze ruffled the surrounding leaves, bringing the faint smell of smoke. Abeke welcomed the breeze — it would further disguise any sounds they made.
After a considerable hike, the smoke grew stronger and Abeke could hear distant conversations. Then, from up ahead, a shriek pierced the night. A second shriek came, less strident, followed by a third. Abeke held her breath, kneeling down beside Uraza. The cries stopped. The shrieks had not sounded human, nor did they match any animal she could think of, but they had sounded desperate.
Uraza started forward again. They advanced more cautiously than ever, a little at a time, finally coming within sight of the beach. Together, Abeke and Uraza crept as close as they dared, gazing out from the last of the dense foliage beneath the shadows of the trees.
The twin bonfires burned wide and tall, like small huts accidentally set ablaze. By the rippling light, Abeke saw six large cages, and perhaps ten men. Four of the cages contained monstrous beasts: one was feathery, some gargantuan bird of prey; another had quills like a porcupine but was nearly the size of a buffalo; a third held a huge coiled snake, probably some kind of constrictor; and the fourth housed what appeared to be a muscular rat big enough to bring down an antelope.
An ordinary dog paced inside one of the other cages, looking small and scared compared to the neighboring monstrosities. The sixth cage stood empty.
A man in a hooded cloak approached the empty cage with a rat in his hand. The rodent was big, but nothing like the unnatural rat nearby. “Let’s double the amount on this one and check for differences,” he said.
“Large or small, a dose is a dose,” a bald man protested.
“We have plenty,” the hooded man countered. “We lost the parrot, so we have an extra cage. Let’s find out firsthand.”
Abeke had to strain, but she felt sure that she heard the words correctly. The hooded man produced a waterskin and upended it over the mouth of the rat in his other hand. The rat squirmed, tail whipping from side to side.
“That’s enough,” one of the other men growled.
“Cage it,” another man demanded.
“Not yet,” the hooded man said, capping the waterskin. “If I’m too hasty, it will run out between the bars.” He held out the rat for the other men to see. It wriggled in his grasp, seeming to swell. It began squirming harder, screeching in pain.
The hooded man turned and stuffed the rat between the bars of the empty cage. The rodent writhed on the cage floor, new flesh bursting out beneath its fur. It let out a tortured shriek that Abeke recognized. It squealed one more time, then lunged against the bars, its enlarged body bloated with muscle. The rat tested the bars several times, rocking the cage and kicking up sand before settling down.
Abeke could hardly trust her eyes. What would Shane think when she told him about this? Would he believe her? She glanced over at Uraza. “You’re my only witness,” she whispered. “You see this, don’t you? It isn’t natural. What did they give it?”
Uraza only looked her way for an instant, then returned her attention to the beach.
“What did I tell you?” the bald man said. “A dose is a dose. The amount don’t matter.”
“This one is a little larger,” the hooded man said. “And if you ask me, the transformation took less time.”
“Waste of effort. Let’s finish this.”
“This last one should be simplest,” the hooded man said. “Admiral is well-trained. He may even remain so after the Bile.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” the bald man said.
The hooded man held up his waterskin. “Get ready to eat your words.” He walked over to the cage with the dog inside. “Sit, Admiral.”
The dog sat.
“Speak.”
The dog barked and wagged its tail.
The hooded man uncapped the waterskin and held it between the bars. “Come.”
The dog came forward and the man poured fluid into its mouth. Abeke could see some splashing free. Then he backed away.
Several other men stepped closer to the cage, warily clutching long spears. One held a bow with an arrow set to the string.
Abeke didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of the dog convulsing and enlarging. It didn’t cry out like the rat, but it whined softly. As the dog changed, its muscles pulled taut, bulging grotesquely. Its eyes grew fierce and wide, and foam began frothing from the corners of its mouth. The dog let out a low growl before launching itself against the side of the cage, very nearly toppling it over onto its side.
“Sit, Admiral,” the hooded man called from a distance.
The monstrous dog shifted into a sitting position.
“Speak.”
The beefy dog let out a powerful bark that resonated through the jungle, sending birds flying from the trees.
“Good boy, Admiral,” the hooded man called. “Good boy.”
“Look down there,” Abeke said. “Who could that be?”
Crouching low, Uraza watched warily beside her.
Abeke squinted, straining her sight. “Hard to tell from up here. They’re a long way from the outpost. Could it be pirates? Shane said all ships have to watch out for pirates lately.”
Uraza remained still beside her.
Abeke wondered if Shane’s people knew they were sharing the island. Could the figures on the beach pose a threat? It seemed unlikely. There were dozens of people at the sturdy outpost, many of them armed soldiers and most with spirit animals. Three big ships waited in the lagoon. Shane had mentioned others coming soon, distinguished visitors. Could it be them on the beach? Wouldn’t visitors come directly to the outpost?
“I don’t like this,” Abeke murmured. “I don’t want to risk anybody sneaking up on Shane and his people. Think we could get close without being spotted?”
In reply, Uraza flicked her tail and started down the slope toward the cove. Abeke followed.
Soon they passed beneath trees again. Abeke took extra care to move silently. This was no longer a game. The people on the beach could be dangerous.
A balmy breeze ruffled the surrounding leaves, bringing the faint smell of smoke. Abeke welcomed the breeze — it would further disguise any sounds they made.
After a considerable hike, the smoke grew stronger and Abeke could hear distant conversations. Then, from up ahead, a shriek pierced the night. A second shriek came, less strident, followed by a third. Abeke held her breath, kneeling down beside Uraza. The cries stopped. The shrieks had not sounded human, nor did they match any animal she could think of, but they had sounded desperate.
Uraza started forward again. They advanced more cautiously than ever, a little at a time, finally coming within sight of the beach. Together, Abeke and Uraza crept as close as they dared, gazing out from the last of the dense foliage beneath the shadows of the trees.
The twin bonfires burned wide and tall, like small huts accidentally set ablaze. By the rippling light, Abeke saw six large cages, and perhaps ten men. Four of the cages contained monstrous beasts: one was feathery, some gargantuan bird of prey; another had quills like a porcupine but was nearly the size of a buffalo; a third held a huge coiled snake, probably some kind of constrictor; and the fourth housed what appeared to be a muscular rat big enough to bring down an antelope.
An ordinary dog paced inside one of the other cages, looking small and scared compared to the neighboring monstrosities. The sixth cage stood empty.
A man in a hooded cloak approached the empty cage with a rat in his hand. The rodent was big, but nothing like the unnatural rat nearby. “Let’s double the amount on this one and check for differences,” he said.
“Large or small, a dose is a dose,” a bald man protested.
“We have plenty,” the hooded man countered. “We lost the parrot, so we have an extra cage. Let’s find out firsthand.”
Abeke had to strain, but she felt sure that she heard the words correctly. The hooded man produced a waterskin and upended it over the mouth of the rat in his other hand. The rat squirmed, tail whipping from side to side.
“That’s enough,” one of the other men growled.
“Cage it,” another man demanded.
“Not yet,” the hooded man said, capping the waterskin. “If I’m too hasty, it will run out between the bars.” He held out the rat for the other men to see. It wriggled in his grasp, seeming to swell. It began squirming harder, screeching in pain.
The hooded man turned and stuffed the rat between the bars of the empty cage. The rodent writhed on the cage floor, new flesh bursting out beneath its fur. It let out a tortured shriek that Abeke recognized. It squealed one more time, then lunged against the bars, its enlarged body bloated with muscle. The rat tested the bars several times, rocking the cage and kicking up sand before settling down.
Abeke could hardly trust her eyes. What would Shane think when she told him about this? Would he believe her? She glanced over at Uraza. “You’re my only witness,” she whispered. “You see this, don’t you? It isn’t natural. What did they give it?”
Uraza only looked her way for an instant, then returned her attention to the beach.
“What did I tell you?” the bald man said. “A dose is a dose. The amount don’t matter.”
“This one is a little larger,” the hooded man said. “And if you ask me, the transformation took less time.”
“Waste of effort. Let’s finish this.”
“This last one should be simplest,” the hooded man said. “Admiral is well-trained. He may even remain so after the Bile.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” the bald man said.
The hooded man held up his waterskin. “Get ready to eat your words.” He walked over to the cage with the dog inside. “Sit, Admiral.”
The dog sat.
“Speak.”
The dog barked and wagged its tail.
The hooded man uncapped the waterskin and held it between the bars. “Come.”
The dog came forward and the man poured fluid into its mouth. Abeke could see some splashing free. Then he backed away.
Several other men stepped closer to the cage, warily clutching long spears. One held a bow with an arrow set to the string.
Abeke didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of the dog convulsing and enlarging. It didn’t cry out like the rat, but it whined softly. As the dog changed, its muscles pulled taut, bulging grotesquely. Its eyes grew fierce and wide, and foam began frothing from the corners of its mouth. The dog let out a low growl before launching itself against the side of the cage, very nearly toppling it over onto its side.
“Sit, Admiral,” the hooded man called from a distance.
The monstrous dog shifted into a sitting position.
“Speak.”
The beefy dog let out a powerful bark that resonated through the jungle, sending birds flying from the trees.
“Good boy, Admiral,” the hooded man called. “Good boy.”
