Kiteman of Karanga Read online

Karl headed back toward his kitewing and sacks. The crabs, he noticed, waited several minutes before they started following his trail. That accounted for his feeling that something had been lurking in the dark. If he listened carefully, he could just hear them skittering over the sand.

  He loaded up and started walking again, taking his direction from the constellation Terry that pointed to the west. His sacks and kitewing felt heavier than they had the night before, and he wondered, as he worked the stiffness out of his muscles, how many days he would be able to keep it up. All at once, he stopped short. The carrion crabs! Since they were following him anyway, they could carry his load!

  Karl returned to the crabs and looked at the broad back of the largest one. Perhaps it could carry his kitewing. He placed the long bundle squarely on the crabs back. The wing balanced there. He could tie it on by using the protrusions from the crab's shell, but it might drag as the crab moved over the little dunes. Well, he would still carry his wing himself, he decided.

  Karl tied his heavy water sack to the largest crab by weaving a string of terry leather all the way around its shell and then lacing it across the top several times. He pulled and pushed the water bag, but it wouldn't move. It was secure on the crab's back. On two of the other large crabs he tied his hunting kit and his sack of dried meat.

  When the crabs were loaded, Karl was ready to try them out. Knowing that they wouldn't move until he was a distance away, he picked up his kitewing and sprinted ahead. How light he felt with only his wing to carry! He decided to give the crabs a short trial. He would continue hiking westward awhile and then go back to see how they were coming.

  As the star in the Terry's beak touched the horizon, Karl eagerly retraced his steps. He found the crabs not more than three hundred yards behind. And though they had stopped and hunkered into the sand by the time he reached them, it was clear that the loaded ones were having no difficulty keeping up. The largest one, with the water on its back, was in the lead.

  Karl felt triumphant as he turned west again. Not only were they not dangerous, but they could carry his burdens! He was sure that with the help of the crabs he would be able to travel farther in the fifteen days his water would last than he could alone.

  All night, Karl forged ahead. With only the light weight of his kitewing he was able to better the previous night's pace. When the light had returned to the eastern sky, Karl stopped. He seemed to be in the same spot as the evening before, the desert was so totally barren. He rested for a few minutes, waiting for the crabs, but when they did not appear, he walked back slowly to meet them.

  After he had gone a quarter of a mile and seen no sign of them, he grew concerned. Where were they? Perhaps they hadn't been able to keep up with him. Karl began to run, following his footsteps in the sand.

  He ran on and on. The sun had come up, and the air was growing hotter by the minute. Sweat streamed from his body, and the dry air seared his lungs. After a short rest, he continued on. He must find them! He ran through the morning. At last he saw them far ahead and sighed with relief as he slowed to a walk. They hadn't been able to keep up. He would have to sleep where they were and go slower the next night.

  But as Karl drew nearer the crabs he gasped with disbelief. His gear was strewn over the sand, and the crabs were busy eating everything. His water bag had been torn, and the water had long since disappeared into the sand. His meat sack had been pulled apart. The meat was gone, and several of the crabs were busy eating the sack itself. Only his hunting kit was not ruined, though the fur top had been stripped off and the contents scattered.

  "No! No!" Karl shouted at the crabs. He grabbed his spear and attacked them with the blunt end, but the crabs only hunkered into the sand and pulled their claws in front of their faces. Karl snatched his half-eaten things away from the crabs, gathered them into a pile, and then fell upon it. "Why didn't I watch them more closely?" he moaned. "Why was I so stupid?"

  Then Karl lowered his head into his arms. The crabs had succeeded in following him to his end.

  4. Terrys on the Desert

  For a long time Karl lay as if he were already dead, but at last the hot sun forced him to rise and set up his kitewing. As he slid into its welcome shade, he tried to ignore his unsatisfied hunger and thirst. He could survive for a while without food, but without water he had only a few days at best. He shuddered anew each time he glanced at the carrion crabs that were busy burrowing underground for the day. I will act more bravely when I die than when I hunted the terry, he promised himself. But this did not relieve his feeling of horror when he imagined the crabs picking the flesh from his bones.

  When Karl awoke, the sun was low and the air had cooled. He rose slowly, already feeling a desperate need for water. As he folded his kitewing a motion in the sand drew his attention, and he watched as one of the smaller crabs clawed its way to the surface. He wanted to kick it, but instead he turned and took an inventory of his belongings. His water bag was torn, but he could mend it. His hunting kit was intact, so he had his knife, an extra spear point, rope, sheets of terry leather, needles, and fire-making tools. At least he still had the tools to survive, though he could not imagine what good they would do him now.

  He started off in the direction of the setting sun, the carrion crabs not far behind. Cursed crabs, he thought, I should eat them. Then he stopped and shook his head, surprised that the idea had not occurred to him before. Why not eat them?

  The difficult part would be killing the crabs. He had no hammer or rocks. If he tried opening one of them with his knife, he would surely break the brittle obsidian blade. And even the smallest crab could give him a nasty gash with its pincers. He would have to be careful.

  By the time he heard the crabs skittering after him on the sand, Karl had a plan. Taking the terry rope out of his hunting sack, he made a noose at each end, then quietly walked back to the crabs. The biggest was in the lead again with the rest scattered behind. A few feet away he spied one of the smallest. That was the one he wanted.

  Holding the blunt end of his spear in front of him, Karl advanced, allowing the crab to grab the spear handle with one of its giant pincers. Then he flipped the creature onto its back. While the crab clawed at the air trying to right itself, Karl slipped a noose over each pincer. Jerking the crab up into the air, he swung it high above his head and smashed it down upon the rock-hard shell of the largest crab. Again and again he pounded the small crab against the shell of its largest companion. When he heard the shell crack, he stopped.

  Still trembling from the exertion, Karl separated the top of the shell from the body. With knife and thumb he stripped out some of the raw flesh and stuffed it into his mouth and started to chew. The sour, salty taste nearly gagged him and he had to force himself to swallow. When he had choked down as much of the crab flesh as he could stand, he raised the upside-down shell and drank the juice that had accumulated there, shuddering with each swallow, even though the moisture felt good in his dry throat. Feeling more sick than satisfied, Karl picked up his bag and his wing and continued.

  Karl hiked on through the night. The next morning, feeling too weak to kill another crab, he collapsed under his kitewing, only to awaken again at midday. The sun was at its hottest. Karl's head was pounding at the temples, and his eyes hurt as if they had swollen in their sockets. When he glanced up at the sky, he gasped and felt cold all over. Against the blue he saw several black specks. He stared at them intently, swallowing hard, dry swallows. They circled, growing larger and more distinct. The terrys had seen him and had taken him for carrion.

  Karl reached for his spear, though it wouldn't be of much use without snares set around to catch the terry's feet and someone to carry a padded stick for him. All at once an overwhelming idea occurred to him. He didn't have to die! The descending terrys might not mean his death—they might mean his salvation.

  For a moment Karl hesitated, afraid that he had succumbed to delusions. But the soundness of his idea asserted itself. To work, it had to be accomplish
ed quickly. He took the rope from his hunting bag and made a huge noose at one end. Then he spread the noose out on the sand several yards away where he guessed one of the terrys might land or have to step if coming to eat him. Lashing his hunting bag and spear to his wing, he slipped into his harness and waited.

  The terrys were landing, four of them in all. Karl could hear the hiss of their wings and their hideous squawking. They towered over him. Though terrified, he forced himself to remain still. He watched, hardly breathing, as one of the terrys stopped its landing run with one foot planted nearly in the center of his noose. Whipping the rope back, Karl pulled it tight around the terry's ankle.

  As the terry shrieked, Karl nearly panicked again at the closeness of the awesome creature. But for his plan to work, he had to jump up and frighten the terry away. Unless trapped, the huge scavengers usually ran from hunters.

  Rising to his feet while wearing his wing, Karl gave a loud shout and took several steps forward. The terry spread its wings and began to run around him to take off. The other terrys squawked and shrieked, but did not come any closer.

  Karl wrapped the rope around his forearm and started to run behind his terry. The giant beast could probably tow him aloft, but only if he gave it all the assistance he could. Down on the hot desert surface the terry would have to struggle just to get itself airborne, and Karl would have to do his utmost not to drag it down at the moment of liftoff.

  He ran furiously, trying to keep the rope slack between himself and the terry. The great reptile rocked from side to side as it ran, its wingtips dragging in the sand. It began to pump its huge wings, and on the third downstroke it heaved itself into the air. Karl ran faster than ever so as not to pull the terry down at this moment. Then the giant wings lifted for a fourth downbeat, and Karl leapt into the air, extending his arms and allowing the rope to grow taut.

  Whump! Whump! Whump! Feeling the pull on its leg, the terry pumped its wings frantically, steadily pulling Karl upward. As the desert fell away beneath him, Karl wondered if the terry would turn on him now that they were flying.

  Karl forced himself to remain tethered to this free ride for as long as possible. The terry banked to stay within a column of rising air, and together man and terry climbed higher and higher. At last Karl was sure he had enough altitude to find another thermal, but he couldn't just let go and allow his valuable rope to fly away with the terry. With sweaty hands, he pulled himself along his rope toward the terry until he was only a few inches behind its feet. He cut the rope free with his knife and banked away immediately. When he looked behind, the terrys had regrouped and were heading east toward Karanga.

  As Karl flew on that afternoon, the surface of the desert changed beneath him. Huge outcrops of rock thrust up through the sand in strange shapes a hundred feet or more high. The outcroppings gradually became a range of rocky ridges separated by flat, sandy valleys. They were bare of everything except the hardiest desert vegetation, but the appearance of any terrain feature on the faceless desert was encouraging. With high spirits Karl circled, looking for water. Finally he saw a smear of dusty green in the distance and he set his course straight for it.

  Glimmering in amongst the rocks, Karl spied a pool of water. From aloft its color seemed the purest aqua, and its sandy bottom was lit up by the slanting sunlight. Around it grew dozens of palm trees and a profusion of desert plants—spiny yucca, oddly shaped cactuses, and thorny bushes. Karl moved forward in his harness, banked hard to the left, and spiraled down to the oasis. A few minutes later he had drunk his fill and was swimming in the most beautiful pool he had ever seen.

  He was soaking in the clear water when a screech broke the silence. It was answered from the opposite ridge and then a piercing chorus of screeches echoed through the rocky valley. Karl jumped from the pool and looked around for a safe place. He had heard that sound only once before, but it was unmistakable. These rocky ridges were inhabited by the dread lizard, the large carnivorous reptile that moved so fast that it could snap spears from the air and devour an antelope or a man in three or four gulps.

  Grabbing his hunting gear and his wing, Karl ran toward a cleft in the rock of the valley wall that he had spotted from the pool. It looked narrow enough to be blocked by a campfire. Leaving his belongings inside, Karl quickly gathered a pile of brush and soon had a fire blazing at the entrance to keep the lizards away. Though he ached with fatigue, he forced himself to sit by the fire and mend his water sack. In the morning he might have to make a quick retreat, and there would be no time for sewing then.

  Karl intended to wake up from time to time during the night and put more fuel on his fire, but he fell into such a deep sleep that despite his fear of the dread lizards, he first awoke at dawn. His fire had long since turned to ashes—he was lucky not to have been eaten in his sleep. Resolving to be more vigilant, he took his spear and headed toward the water hole to fill his newly mended water bag. He had gone scarcely a hundred yards when he noticed an odd stirring beneath the sand near his feet. More carrion crabs, he thought, remembering what a vile meal the crab had made. But the sand continued moving, and suddenly a green head broke into the sunlight. Karl pounced with his spear and withdrew a three-foot-long, newly hatched dread lizard. Soon Karl had skewered the baby lizard on a piece of brush and roasted it over a new fire. The meat of the young lizard was succulent and delicious!

  When he had finished eating, Karl wrapped up the remaining meat in a scrap of terry leather and started again for the spring. He studied the sand, hoping that he would see antelope tracks made the night before, but he found no sign at all until he came across dozens of deep, four-toed imprints that caused his spine to tingle. Lizards had come down from the rocks on his left, crossed the sand, and disappeared into the brush on his right.

  Karl wheeled as a roar broke the morning calm. From out of the brush a dread lizard came charging toward him. Dropping everything, he ran for the nearest palm tree. Leaping up the trunk, he hugged the rough bark and shinnied up as far as he could. Then he grasped the thick mass of fronds and struggled into the top of the palm. Beneath him, the lizard clawed at the trunk, emitting piercing screeches as it snapped the air.

  Only a few feet from those deadly jaws, Karl looked on in terror as the giant reptile began bending the trunk back and forth with its powerful claws. The palm fronds lifted into the air as the tree's heavy top swished to and fro. His heart pounding, Karl closed his eyes and hung on. If he lost his grip, he would be catapulted out onto the sand, and the lizard would be upon him. Then the crack of splintering wood nearly caused him to let go in panic. The tree trunk was yeilding to the reptile's onslaught.

  Suddenly there was quiet. The swaying stopped. When Karl forced himself to look down, he saw the lizard drinking from the pool. Then it slowly ambled back into the brush, as if deciding the catch wasn't worth the effort.

  Karl clung to his perch until he was sure that the lizard was gone. Then he crept down from the palm. As silently as he could, he went to the spring, filled his water sack, and returned to his camp in the rock cleft. He knew he had to leave this place immediately or be eaten by a dread lizard. He shouldered his water bag, his hunting sack, and his wing and started up the rocky slope of the nearest ridge.

  Once on the crest of the ridge, Karl scanned the desert. Again it was flat and ran without a bump to the horizon. As he set up his wing, Karl allowed himself little optimism. There was no end in sight, but he would continue traveling for as long as he could. Bron would have demanded his best effort. Back in his wing, Karl took several running steps down the rocky slope and became airborne. When he was high enough, he banked, and the wind carried him slowly up over the crest of the ridge. Then he banked again and glided out over the desert. He tensed, waiting for the bumps that signified lift.

  A hard series of jolts alerted him. Karl banked quickly and felt his way back into the thermal. More bumps came, and he knew he was in it. Around and around he circled, staying within the column of lift and rising slowly. Afte
r a few turns, he began to feel the thermal strengthening and he knew he was on his way.

  Karl flew west over a barren expanse of sand with only the curving shapes of the dunes and the bumps of the thermals to relieve the monotony. He scanned the horizon constantly and was beginning to believe that the desert really was endless. If only he could find another range of ridges similar to those he had left, but without the dread lizards, he would be content to end his journey.

  As the sun began sinking low in the sky, Karl was circling in what he knew would be his last thermal of the day. Because it was the last, he teased every inch of altitude from it that he could. Finally, he turned west for his last run.

  Squinting hard against the sun, Karl thought he saw a jagged line that could be a range of mountains, but then he lost sight of it as he descended toward the desert sand. Maybe Bron was right. Perhaps he had just seen the other side of the desert!

  5. Eaten Alive

  Elated, Karl landed and quickly folded his wing. He ate some of the lizard meat and drank deeply from his water sack. Then he set off on foot. For the first time since his banishment, he thought he might really be able to cross the desert. If the jagged line on the horizon was a range of mountains, his journey would be over in a few days. As he walked he imagined the kinds of game he would find in this new land and hoped that it might even be inhabited by friendly tribesmen.

  For the next five nights Karl hiked steadily, sleeping during the days in the shade of the kitewing. The mountains appeared closer each morning. By dawn of the fifth day the foothills were so close that Karl decided to push on. His lizard meat had run out, and he had not even seen a carrion crab. His skin was gray with desert dust, and he felt weak, but his trek was nearly over. The thought that he would soon be hunting antelope spurred him on.

  Karl reached the first line of hills and climbed to the top of the slope. He set up his wing and looked back across the desert. From this side it looked as endless and foreboding as it had from Karanga. Toward the west the mountains became larger and even more rugged. They seemed to have been laid down in rows, each row standing a little higher than the one before, until finally the last line of peaks blazed white with snow against the clear blue sky. Karl was struck by the color of these mountains, which grew richer and greener the farther they were from the desert.