Read Online The Einstein Intersection by Samuel R. Delany - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Samuel R. Delany
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rock became gravel, became sand. It was a big lake. Down one arm of the beach things faded into reeds and swamp and things. Across, there was a gorse covered plain. I had no idea where I was. But I didn’t want to be in a swamp, so I walked up the other way.
Thrash, thrash, snap!
I stopped.
Thrash! Just inside the jungle something churned and fought. The fighting was at the point where one opponent was near exhausted: activity came in momentary spurts. ( Hissssss !) Curiosity, hunger, devilment sent me forward with high machete. I crept up a slope of rock, looked over into a glade.
Attacked by flowers, a dragon was dying. The blossoms jeweled his scales, thorns tangled his legs. As I watched, he tried again to tear them off with his teeth, but they scurried back, raking briars across his hide, or whipped them at his runny, yellow eyes.
The lizard (twice as big as Easy and man-branded on his left hinder haunch with a crusty cross) was trying to protect the external gill/lung arrangement that fluttered along his neck. The plants had nearly immobilized him, but when a bloom advanced to tear away his breath, he scraped and flailed with one free claw. He’d mauled a good many of the blossoms and their petals scattered the torn earth.
The cross told me he wouldn’t hurt me (even crazed, the lizard once used to man becomes pathetic, seldom harmful) so I jumped down from the rock.
A blossom creeping to attack emptied an air-bladder inches from my foot, “ Sssssss ...” in surprise.
I hacked it, and nervous ooze (nervous in the sense that its nerves are composed of the stuff) belched greenly to the ground. Thorns flailed my legs. But I told you about the skin down there. I just have to watch out for my belly and the palms of my hands; feet are fine. With my foot I seized a creeper from the lizard’s shoulder and pulled it out far enough-stained teeth go clik-clik-clik popping from the dragon’s skin where they had been gnawing-to get my blade under, twist... and... rip !
Nerve dribbled the dragon’s hide.
Those flowers communicate somehow (differently perhaps) and strove for me, one suddenly rising on its tendrils and leaping, “ Sssssss ...” I twiddled my blade in its brain.
I shouted encouragement to the dragon, threw a brave grin. He moaned reptilianly . Lo Hawk should see me do proud his skill.
His mane brushed my arm, his teeth crunched a flower while tendrils curled from the corners of his mouth. He chewed a while, decided he didn’t like it, spat thorns. I pried off two more: his foot came free.
“ Sssssss ...” I looked to the right.
Which was a mistake because it was coming from the left.
Mistakes like that are a drag . Long and prickly wrapped my ankle and tried to jerk me off my feet. Fortunately you just can’t do that. So then it sank lots of teeth into my calf and commenced chewing. I whirled and snatched white petals (this one an albino) which came away gently in my hand. Crunch. Crunch, still on my calf. My sword hand was up. I brought it down but it got caught in a net of brambles. Something scratched the back of my neck. Which ain’t so tough.
Neither is (come to think): the small of my back, under my chin, between my legs, armpits, behind my ears-I was quickly cataloging all the tender places now. Damn flowers move just slow enough to give you time to think.
Then something long and hot sang by my shins. Petals snapped into the air. The plant stopped chewing and burped nervously down my ankle.
Pinnnnng near my hand, and my hand pulled free. I staggered, hacked another briar away. A bloated rose slithered down the dragon’s leg and crawled for cover. They communicate, yes, and the communication was fear and retreat. The music, though! Lord, the music!
I whirled to look up on the rock.
Morning had got far enough along to rouge the sky behind him. He flicked a final encumbering flower from the beast, “ Sssssss . . . blop !” and coiled his whip. I rubbed my calf. The dragon moaned,
Thrash, thrash, snap!
I stopped.
Thrash! Just inside the jungle something churned and fought. The fighting was at the point where one opponent was near exhausted: activity came in momentary spurts. ( Hissssss !) Curiosity, hunger, devilment sent me forward with high machete. I crept up a slope of rock, looked over into a glade.
Attacked by flowers, a dragon was dying. The blossoms jeweled his scales, thorns tangled his legs. As I watched, he tried again to tear them off with his teeth, but they scurried back, raking briars across his hide, or whipped them at his runny, yellow eyes.
The lizard (twice as big as Easy and man-branded on his left hinder haunch with a crusty cross) was trying to protect the external gill/lung arrangement that fluttered along his neck. The plants had nearly immobilized him, but when a bloom advanced to tear away his breath, he scraped and flailed with one free claw. He’d mauled a good many of the blossoms and their petals scattered the torn earth.
The cross told me he wouldn’t hurt me (even crazed, the lizard once used to man becomes pathetic, seldom harmful) so I jumped down from the rock.
A blossom creeping to attack emptied an air-bladder inches from my foot, “ Sssssss ...” in surprise.
I hacked it, and nervous ooze (nervous in the sense that its nerves are composed of the stuff) belched greenly to the ground. Thorns flailed my legs. But I told you about the skin down there. I just have to watch out for my belly and the palms of my hands; feet are fine. With my foot I seized a creeper from the lizard’s shoulder and pulled it out far enough-stained teeth go clik-clik-clik popping from the dragon’s skin where they had been gnawing-to get my blade under, twist... and... rip !
Nerve dribbled the dragon’s hide.
Those flowers communicate somehow (differently perhaps) and strove for me, one suddenly rising on its tendrils and leaping, “ Sssssss ...” I twiddled my blade in its brain.
I shouted encouragement to the dragon, threw a brave grin. He moaned reptilianly . Lo Hawk should see me do proud his skill.
His mane brushed my arm, his teeth crunched a flower while tendrils curled from the corners of his mouth. He chewed a while, decided he didn’t like it, spat thorns. I pried off two more: his foot came free.
“ Sssssss ...” I looked to the right.
Which was a mistake because it was coming from the left.
Mistakes like that are a drag . Long and prickly wrapped my ankle and tried to jerk me off my feet. Fortunately you just can’t do that. So then it sank lots of teeth into my calf and commenced chewing. I whirled and snatched white petals (this one an albino) which came away gently in my hand. Crunch. Crunch, still on my calf. My sword hand was up. I brought it down but it got caught in a net of brambles. Something scratched the back of my neck. Which ain’t so tough.
Neither is (come to think): the small of my back, under my chin, between my legs, armpits, behind my ears-I was quickly cataloging all the tender places now. Damn flowers move just slow enough to give you time to think.
Then something long and hot sang by my shins. Petals snapped into the air. The plant stopped chewing and burped nervously down my ankle.
Pinnnnng near my hand, and my hand pulled free. I staggered, hacked another briar away. A bloated rose slithered down the dragon’s leg and crawled for cover. They communicate, yes, and the communication was fear and retreat. The music, though! Lord, the music!
I whirled to look up on the rock.
Morning had got far enough along to rouge the sky behind him. He flicked a final encumbering flower from the beast, “ Sssssss . . . blop !” and coiled his whip. I rubbed my calf. The dragon moaned,
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