Read Online Through the Whirlpool by K. Eastkott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: K. Eastkott
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his presence. From his bundle of belongings, he took a small wooden bowl and pounded the berries he had collected into a mush. He’d need at least five for this creature. He poured in a tiny amount of fresh water from the flask at his belt. When the mixture was evenly sloppy, he crumbled his remaining meer-zjhur in and kept blending it till it was a smooth paste. He scooped this fishy mixture out and tossed it carefully within the creature’s reach, not wanting to risk getting back in range of its angry flames or threatening beak. He retreated to sit on the sleeping ledge and waited in stillness.
The dragon opened both eyes and studied the splatters of paste before it on the ground. For a long while it did nothing, not willing to trust the human-smelling mixture. Yet hunger got the better of it. Stretching out its head, it began to peck at the fish paste. Soon, the feathered reptile lay prone, struggling to keep its eyes open, aware it had been tricked off its guard, was now at the human’s mercy. A last puff of flame and smoke erupted from its gullet. Its head crashed to the ground.
When he was sure the creature was really out cold, not just feigning to catch him off guard, Kreh-ursh approached. He poked it once with his toe, but it didn’t budge. So he shouldered its bulk as best he could. Though as large as a taag—one of the sure-footed prairie beasts that the Taagaag-ee nomads rode in the south—it weighed no more than a child; this was a creature of the air, hollow bones supporting extended gaseous intestines, making it virtually weightless in flight. It smelled disgusting: its foul breath, the gases it burped and wheezed from its gullet, plus another unknown stink—heavy, acrid, like charcoal—the oozing mud that caked its body.
He hauled the dragon from the hollow and found a rock pool near the sea where he lay it down. It was truly awesome being so close to such a beast. Its feathered cape felt smooth, yet when he brushed his hand backward toward its crest, the quills bristled and its hide was rough like gravel. Easing its mouth open, he saw the rows of inwardly curving teeth and, right at the back, close to its jowl pouch—where it collected the gas it produced—two jagged, flint-like canines it gnashed together for sparks to ignite its blasts.
He dipped the fungus he had collected in seawater and rubbed it between his hands until it formed a soapy lather. He applied this to the creature’s feathers, and the suds helped to wash off the mud. Yet cleaning the beast was difficult. He was not sure how long the sedative would last. The scum was tough to remove, sticking like glue to both the quills and his own hands.
He lost track of how long he worked, aware only of every muscle beginning to ache, of his arms feeling like they wanted to fall from his body. All the time, that sense of being watched... he could not shake it... Yet the bush canopy revealed nothing. Reaching out, his mind encountered nobody nearby. Could it be Taashou? If anybody was there, they were hiding themselves well.
Suddenly , the sleeping beast snorted, showering him in a disgusting cloud of ash. His time was up. He looked at his handiwork. Most of the slime was gone from the beast’s wing feathers and beak, but a faint dark ring still clung to its body. He did not dare sit beside it any longer. As if to confirm his fears, the dragon reared its head, staring directly at him. Kreh-ursh mind-punched, hurling himself back even as flame surged from between the creature’s jaws. As he flew through the air, he was aware of another mind alongside his own, also punching at the dragon’s brain, forcing its flaming maw aside. Kreh-ursh scrambled back just in time. He was barely a few paces distant when the dazed creature turned its head again, focusing its fiery eyes, and spat another blast of flame. As Kreh-ursh and the other being mind-punched together again, to deter its aim, the boy rolled farther back. The flame seared a patch of
The dragon opened both eyes and studied the splatters of paste before it on the ground. For a long while it did nothing, not willing to trust the human-smelling mixture. Yet hunger got the better of it. Stretching out its head, it began to peck at the fish paste. Soon, the feathered reptile lay prone, struggling to keep its eyes open, aware it had been tricked off its guard, was now at the human’s mercy. A last puff of flame and smoke erupted from its gullet. Its head crashed to the ground.
When he was sure the creature was really out cold, not just feigning to catch him off guard, Kreh-ursh approached. He poked it once with his toe, but it didn’t budge. So he shouldered its bulk as best he could. Though as large as a taag—one of the sure-footed prairie beasts that the Taagaag-ee nomads rode in the south—it weighed no more than a child; this was a creature of the air, hollow bones supporting extended gaseous intestines, making it virtually weightless in flight. It smelled disgusting: its foul breath, the gases it burped and wheezed from its gullet, plus another unknown stink—heavy, acrid, like charcoal—the oozing mud that caked its body.
He hauled the dragon from the hollow and found a rock pool near the sea where he lay it down. It was truly awesome being so close to such a beast. Its feathered cape felt smooth, yet when he brushed his hand backward toward its crest, the quills bristled and its hide was rough like gravel. Easing its mouth open, he saw the rows of inwardly curving teeth and, right at the back, close to its jowl pouch—where it collected the gas it produced—two jagged, flint-like canines it gnashed together for sparks to ignite its blasts.
He dipped the fungus he had collected in seawater and rubbed it between his hands until it formed a soapy lather. He applied this to the creature’s feathers, and the suds helped to wash off the mud. Yet cleaning the beast was difficult. He was not sure how long the sedative would last. The scum was tough to remove, sticking like glue to both the quills and his own hands.
He lost track of how long he worked, aware only of every muscle beginning to ache, of his arms feeling like they wanted to fall from his body. All the time, that sense of being watched... he could not shake it... Yet the bush canopy revealed nothing. Reaching out, his mind encountered nobody nearby. Could it be Taashou? If anybody was there, they were hiding themselves well.
Suddenly , the sleeping beast snorted, showering him in a disgusting cloud of ash. His time was up. He looked at his handiwork. Most of the slime was gone from the beast’s wing feathers and beak, but a faint dark ring still clung to its body. He did not dare sit beside it any longer. As if to confirm his fears, the dragon reared its head, staring directly at him. Kreh-ursh mind-punched, hurling himself back even as flame surged from between the creature’s jaws. As he flew through the air, he was aware of another mind alongside his own, also punching at the dragon’s brain, forcing its flaming maw aside. Kreh-ursh scrambled back just in time. He was barely a few paces distant when the dazed creature turned its head again, focusing its fiery eyes, and spat another blast of flame. As Kreh-ursh and the other being mind-punched together again, to deter its aim, the boy rolled farther back. The flame seared a patch of
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