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“Wait!” I stopped him. “Is that all you’re going to tell us?”
“What more would you like to know?” he asked politely.
“Loads!” I shouted. “Where are we? How did we get here? What happens if we walk east instead of west? How will Harkat find out who he used to be? And what the hell does a panther have to do with any of it?”
Mr Tiny sighed impatiently. “I thought you would have developed an appreciation for the unknown by now,” he grumbled. “Don’t you realize how exciting it is to set out on an adventure without any idea of what’s coming next? I’d give my wellies and glasses to experience the world the way you do, as something strange and challenging.”
“Forget the wellies and glasses!” I snapped. “Just give with some answers!”
“You can be very rude sometimes,” Mr Tiny complained, but squatted again and paused thoughtfully. “There’s much I can’t and won’t tell you. You’ll have to discover for yourselves where we are—although it won’t make much difference if you don’t. You got here, obviously, through a mechanism either of magic or incredibly evolved technology—I’m not saying which. If you don’t follow the trail west, you’ll die, probably quite horribly. As for Harkat finding out who he is, and the panther…”
Mr Tiny considered the question in silence, before answering. “Somewhere on this world lies a lake – more a glorified pond, really – which I like to refer to as the Lake of Souls. In it you can glimpse the faces of many trapped souls, people whose spirits did not leave Earth when they died. The soul of the person Harkat used to be lies within. You must find the Lake, then fish for his soul. If you succeed, and Harkat learns and acknowledges the truth about himself, your quest will be complete and I’ll see that you’re guided safely home. If not…” He shrugged.
“How do we find this Lake … of Souls?” Harkat asked.
“By following instructions,” Mr Tiny said. “If you locate and kill the panther, you’ll learn where to go next. You’ll also discover a clue to your previous identity, which I’ve been gracious enough to toss in for free.”
“Couldn’t you just cut the crap and tell us?” I groaned.
“No,” Mr Tiny said. He stood and looked down at us seriously. “But I’ll say this much, boys—the panther’s the least of your worries. Step warily, trust in your instincts, and never let your guard down. And don’t forget,” he added to Harkat, “as well as learning who you were, you must acknowledge it. I can’t step in until you’ve admitted the truth out loud.
“Now,” he smiled, “I really must be going. Places to be, things to do, people to torment. If you’ve further questions, they’ll have to wait. Until next time, boys.” With a wave, the short, mysterious man turned and left us, walking east until the darkness swallowed him, stranding us in the unnamed, alien land.
We found a small pool of water and drank deeply from it, sinking our heads into the murky liquid, ignoring the many tiny eels and insects. Harkat’s grey skin looked like damp cardboard when he pulled up, having drunk his fill, but it swiftly resumed its natural colour as the water evaporated under the unforgiving sun.
“How far do you think we’ve come?” I groaned, stretching out in the shade of a prickly bush with small purple flowers. This was the first sign of vegetation we’d encountered, but I was too exhausted to display any active interest.
“I’ve no idea,” Harkat said. “How long have we … been travelling?”
“Two weeks—I think.”
After the first hot day, we’d tried travelling by night, but the path was rocky and treacherous underfoot—not to mention hard on my bare feet! After stumbling many times, ripping our clothes and cutting ourselves, we elected to brave the blistering sun. I wrapped my jumper around my head to ward off the worst of the rays – the sun didn’t affect Harkat’s grey skin, though he sweated a lot – but while that prevented sunstroke, it didn’t do much against sunburn. My upper body had been roasted all over, even through the material of my shirt. For a few days I’d been sore and irritable, but I’d recovered quickly – thanks to my healing abilities as a half-vampire – and the red had turned to a dark, protective brown. The soles of my feet had also hardened—I barely noticed the absence of shoes now.
“With all the climbing and back tracking we’ve … had to do, we can’t be making more than … a couple of miles an hour,” Harkat said. “Allowing for fourteen or fifteen hours of sunlight … per day, we probably cover twenty-five or thirty miles. Over two weeks that’s …” He frowned as he calculated. “Maybe four hundred in total.”
I nodded feebly. “Thank the gods we’re not human—we wouldn’t have lasted a week at this pace, in these conditions.”
Harkat sat up and tilted his head left, then right—the Little Person’s ears were stitched under the skin of his scalp, so he had to cock his head at a sharp angle to listen intently. Hearing nothing, he focused his green eyes on the land around us. After a brief study of the area, he turned towards me. “Has the smell altered?” he asked. He didn’t have a nose, so he relied on mine.
I sniffed the air. “Slightly. It doesn’t smell as tangy as it did before.”
“That’s because there’s less … dust,” he said, pointing to the hills around us. “We seem to be leaving the … desert behind. There are a few plants and patches … of dry grass.”
“About time,” I groaned. “Let’s hope there are animals too—I’ll crack up if I have to eat another lizard or bug.”
“What do you think those twelve-legged … insects were that we ate yesterday?” Harkat asked.
“I’ve no idea, but I won’t be touching them again—my stomach was in bits all night!”
Harkat chuckled. “They didn’t bother me. Sometimes it helps to have no … taste buds, and a stomach capable of digesting … almost anything.”
Harkat pulled his mask up over his mouth and breathed through it in silence, studying the land ahead. Harkat had spent a lot of time testing the air, and didn’t think it was poisonous to him – it was slightly different to the air on Earth, more acidic – but he kept his mask on anyway, to be safe. I’d coughed a lot for the first few days, but I was OK now—my hardened lungs had adapted to the bitter air.
“Decided where we are yet?” I asked after a while. That was our favourite topic of conversation. We’d narrowed the possibilities down to four options. Mr Tiny had somehow sent us back into the past. He’d transported us to some far-off world in our own universe. He’d slipped us into an alternate reality. Or this was an illusion, and our bodies were lying in a field in the real world, while Mr Tiny fed this dream scene into our imaginations.
“I believed in the … illusion theory at first,” Harkat said, lowering his mask. “But the more I consider it, the less … certain I am. If Mr Tiny was making this world up, I think … he’d make it more exciting and colourful. It’s quite drab.”
“It’s early days,” I grunted. “This is probably just to warm us up.”
“It certainly warmed you up,” Harkat grinned, nodding at my tan.
I returned his smile, then stared up at the sun. “Another three or four hours till nightfall,” I guessed. “It’s a shame neither of us knows more about star systems, or we might be able to tell where we were by the stars.”
“It’s a bigger shame that we … don’t have weapons,” Harkat noted. He stood and studied the land in front of us again. “How will we defend ourselves against the … panther without weapons?”
“Something will turn up,” I reassured him. “Mr Tiny wouldn’t throw us in out of our depth, not this early on—it’d spoil his fun if we perished quickly.”
“That’s not very comforting,” Harkat said. “The idea that we’re being kept alive … only to die horribly later, for Mr Tiny’s benefit … doesn’t fill me with joy.”
“Me neither,” I agreed. “But at least it gives us hope.”
On that uncertain note, the conversation drew to a close, and after a short rest we filled our meagre lizard-skin pouches with water and marched on through the wasteland, which grew more lush – but no less alien – the further we progressed.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_024b0385-ebdb-5690-9473-25c6a52b73e1)
A WEEK after leaving the desert behind, we entered a jungle of thick cactus plants, long snaking vines, and stunted, twisted trees. Very few leaves grew on the trees. Those that did were long and thin, a dull orange colour, grouped near the tops of the trees.
We’d come across traces of animals – droppings, bones, hair – but didn’t see any until we entered the jungle. There we found a curious mix of familiar yet strange creatures. Most of the animals were similar to those of Earth – deer, squirrels, monkeys – but different, usually in size or colouring. Some of the differences weren’t so readily apparent—we captured a squirrel one day, which turned out to have an extra set of sharp teeth when we examined it, and surprisingly long claws.
We’d picked up dagger-shaped stones during the course of our trek, which we’d sharpened into knives. We now made more weapons out of thick sticks and bones of larger animals. They wouldn’t be much use against a panther, but they helped us frighten off the small yellow monkeys which jumped from trees on to the heads of their victims, blinded them with their claws and teeth, then finished them off as they stumbled around.
“I never heard of monkeys like that,” I remarked one morning as we watched a group of the simians bring down and devour a huge boar-like animal.
“Me neither,” Harkat said.
As we watched, the monkeys paused and sniffed the air suspiciously. One ran to a thick bush and screeched threateningly. There was a deep grunt from within the bush, then a larger monkey – like a baboon, only an odd red colour – stepped out and shook a long arm at the others. The yellow monkeys bared their teeth, hissed and threw twigs and small pebbles at the newcomer, but the baboon ignored them and advanced. The smaller monkeys retreated, leaving the baboon to finish off the boar.
“I guess size matters,” I muttered wryly, then Harkat and I slipped away and left the baboon to feed in peace.
The next night, while Harkat slept – his nightmares had stopped since coming to this new world – and I stood guard, there was a loud, fierce roar from somewhere ahead of us. The night was usually filled with the nonstop sounds of insects and other nocturnal creatures, but at the roar all noise ceased. There was total silence – once the echoes of the roar subsided – for at least five minutes.
Harkat slept through the roar. He was normally a light sleeper, but the air here agreed with him and he’d been dozing more deeply. I told him about it in the morning.
“You think it was … our panther?” he asked.
“It was definitely a big cat,” I said. “It might have been a lion or tiger, but my money’s on the black panther.”
“Panthers are usually very quiet,” Harkat said. “But I guess they could be … different here. If this is his territory, he should come by … this way soon. Panthers are on constant patrol. We must prepare.” During his time in Vampire Mountain, when he’d been working for Seba Nile, Harkat had spoken with several vampires who’d hunted or fought with lions and leopards, so he knew quite a lot about them. “We must dig a pit to … lure it into, catch and truss a deer, and also find some … porcupines.”
“Porcupines?” I asked.
“Their quills can stick in the panther’s … paws, snout and mouth. They might slow it down or … distract it.”
“We’re going to need more than porcupine quills to kill a panther,” I noted.
“With luck, we’ll startle it when … it comes to feed on the deer. We can jump out and frighten it into … the pit. Hopefully it will die there.”
“And if it doesn’t?” I asked.
Harkat grinned edgily. “We’re in trouble. Black panthers are really leopards, and leopards are … the worst of the big cats. They’re fast, strong, savage and … great climbers. We won’t be able to outrun it or … climb higher than it.”
“So if plan A fails, there’s no plan B?”
“No.” Harkat chuckled dryly. “It’ll be straight to plan P—Panic!”
We found a clearing with a thick bush at one end where we’d be able to hide. We spent the morning digging a deep pit with our hands and the rough tools we’d fashioned from branches and bones. When the pit was done, we harvested a couple of dozen thick branches and sharpened the tips, creating stakes that we were going to place in the base of the pit.
As we were climbing into the pit to plant the stakes, I stopped at the edge and started to tremble—remembering another pit that had been filled with stakes, and the friend I’d lost there.
“What’s wrong?” Harkat asked. Before I could answer, he read it in my eyes. “Oh,” he sighed. “Mr Crepsley.”
“Isn’t there any other way to kill it?” I groaned.
“Not without proper equipment.” Harkat took my stakes from me and smiled encouragingly. “Go hunt for porcupines. I’ll handle this … end of the operation.”
Nodding gratefully, I left Harkat to plant the stakes and went looking for porcupines or anything else to use against the panther. I hadn’t thought much about Mr Crepsley lately – this harsh world had demanded my full attention – but the pit brought it all crashing back. Again I saw him drop and heard his screams as he died. I wanted to leave the pit and panther, but that wasn’t an option. We had to kill the predator to learn where to go next. So I quashed thoughts of Mr Crepsley as best I could and immersed myself in work.
I picked some of the sturdier cacti to use as missiles against the black panther, and made mud-balls using leaves and fresh mud from a nearby stream—I hoped the mud might temporarily blind the panther. I searched hard for porcupines, but if any were in the vicinity, they were keeping an ultra low profile. I had to report back quill-less to Harkat in the afternoon.
“Never mind,” he said, sitting by the edge of the completed pit. “Let’s create a cover for this and … catch a deer. After that we’re in the lap … of the gods.”
We built a thin cover for the pit out of long twigs and leaves, laid it over the hole and went hunting. The deer here were shorter than those on Earth, with longer heads. They couldn’t run as fast as their Earth counterparts, but were still pretty swift. It took a while to track down a lame straggler and bring it back alive. It was dusk by the time we tied it to a stake close to the pit, and we were both tired after our long, taxing day.
“What happens if the panther attacks during the night?” I asked, sheltering under a skin I’d sliced from a deer with a small stone scraper.
“Why do you always have to anticipate … the worst?” Harkat grumbled.
“Somebody has to,” I laughed. “Will it be plan P time?”
“No,” Harkat sighed. “If he comes in the dark, it’s … KYAG time.”
“KYAG?” I echoed.
“Kiss Your Ass Goodbye!”
There was no sign of the panther that night, though we both heard deep-throated growls, closer than the roars of the night before. As soon as dawn broke, we ate a hasty breakfast – berries we’d picked after seeing monkeys eat them – and positioned ourselves in the thick covering bush opposite the staked deer and pit. If all went according to plan, the panther would attack the deer. With luck it’d come at it from the far side of the pit and fall in. If not, we’d leap up whilst it was dragging off the deer and hopefully force it backwards to its doom. Not the most elaborate plan in the world, but it would have to do.
We said nothing as the minutes turned to hours, silently waiting for the panther. My mouth was dry and I sipped frequently from the squirrel skin beakers (we’d replaced the lizard-skin containers) by my side, though only small amounts—to cut out too many toilet trips.
About an hour after midday I laid a hand on Harkat’s grey arm and squeezed warningly—I’d seen something long and black through the trees. Both of us stared hard. As we did, I saw the tip of a whiskered nose stick out from around a tree and sniff the air testingly—the panther! I kept my mouth closed, willing the panther to advance, but after a few hesitant seconds it turned and padded away into the gloom of the jungle.
Harkat and I looked questioningly at one another. “It must have smelt us,” I whispered.
“Or sensed something wrong,” Harkat whispered back. Lifting his head slightly, he studied the grazing deer by the pit, then jerked a thumb backwards. “Let’s get further away. I think it will return. If we aren’t here, it might be … tempted to attack.”
“We won’t have a clear view if we withdraw any further,” I noted.
“I know,” Harkat said, “but we’ve no choice. It knew something was wrong. If we stay here, it’ll also know when … it returns, and won’t come any closer.”
I followed Harkat as he wriggled further back into the bush, not stopping until we were almost at the end of the briars and vines. From here we could only vaguely see the deer.
An hour passed. Two. I was beginning to abandon hope that the panther would return, when the sound of deep breathing drifted towards us from the clearing. I caught flashes of the deer jumping around, straining to break free of its rope. Something growled throatily—the panther. Even more promising—the growls were coming from the far side of the pit. If the panther attacked the deer from there, it would fall straight into our trap!
Harkat and I lay motionless, barely breathing. We heard twigs snap as the panther closed in on the deer, not masking its sounds any longer. Then there was a loud snapping sound as a heavy body crashed through the covering over the pit and landed heavily on the stakes. There was a ferocious howl and I had to cover my ears with my hands. That was followed by silence, disturbed only by the pounding of the deer’s hooves on the soil as it leapt around by the edge of the pit.
Harkat slowly got to his feet and stared over the bush at the open pit. I stood and stared with him. We glanced at each other and I said uncertainly, “It worked.”
“You sound like you didn’t … expect it to,” Harkat grinned.
“I didn’t,” I laughed, and started towards the pit.
“Careful,” Harkat warned me, hefting a knobbly, heavy wooden club. “It could still be alive. There’s nothing more dangerous than … a wounded animal.”
“It’d be howling with pain if it was alive,” I said.
“Probably,” Harkat nodded, “but let’s not take any … needless risks.” Stepping in front of me, he moved off to the left and signalled me to go right. Raising a knife-like piece of bone, I circled away from Harkat, then we slowly closed on the pit from opposite directions. As we got nearer, we each drew one of the small cacti we’d tied to our waists – we also had mud-balls strapped on – to toss like grenades if the panther was still alive.
Harkat came within sight of the pit before I did and stopped, confused. As I got closer, I saw what had bewildered him. I also drew to a halt, not sure what to make of it. A body lay impaled on the stakes, blood dripping from its many puncture wounds. But it wasn’t the body of a panther—it was a red baboon.
“I don’t understand,” I muttered. “Monkeys can’t make the kind of growling or howling sounds we heard.”
“But how did …” Harkat stopped and fear flashed into his eyes. “The monkey’s throat!” he gasped. “It’s been ripped open! The panther must –”
He got no further. Even as I was leaping to the same conclusion – the panther had killed the baboon and dropped it into the pit to fool us! – there was a blur of movement in the upper branches of the tree closest to me. Whirling, I caught a very brief glimpse of a long, thick, pure black object flying through the air with outstretched claws and gaping jaws—then the panther was upon me, roaring triumphantly as it dragged me to the ground for the kill!
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_5fc22199-a440-5da0-b34d-f9422c3c4b25)
THE ROAR was critical. If the panther had clamped its fangs clean around my throat, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. But the animal was excited – probably by having outsmarted us – and tossed its head, growling savagely as we rolled over and came to a stop with the powerful beast on top of me.
As it roared, Harkat reacted with cool speed and launched a cactus missile. It could have bounced off the animal’s head or shoulders, but the luck of the vampires was with us, and the cactus sailed clean between the panther’s fearsome jaws.
The panther instantly lost interest in me and lurched aside, spitting and scratching at the cactus stuck in its mouth. I crawled away, panting, scrabbling for the knife I’d dropped. Harkat leapt over me as my fingers closed around the handle of the bone, and brought his club down upon the head of the panther.
If the club had been made of tougher material, Harkat would have killed the panther—he could do immense damage with most axes or clubs. But the wood he’d carved it from proved unworthy of the task, and the club smashed in half as it cracked over the panther’s hard skull.
The panther howled with pain and rage, and turned on Harkat, spitting spines, its yellow teeth reflecting the gleam of the afternoon sun. It swiped at his squat grey head and opened up a deep gash down the left side of his face. Harkat fell backwards from the force of the blow and the panther leapt after him.
I didn’t have time to get up and lunge after the panther – it would be on Harkat before I crossed the space between us – so I sent my knife flying through the air at it. The bone deflected harmlessly off the creature’s powerful flanks, but it distracted the beast and its head snapped around. Harkat used the moment to grab a couple of the mud-balls hanging from his blue robes. When the panther faced him again, Harkat let it have the mud-balls between the eyes.
