But the vast tree trunks rising out of the limit of firelight into the upper dark, the mysterious cries and sounds of the encircling jungle, and the blazing eyes which stared out of the night at the fires, all combined to make the men huddle together and talk in low tones or not at all.
“We were lucky to find this clearing,” Hiero said, stoically trying to avoid noticing his battered arms and legs. He knew Luchare was equally in pain and also saying nothing, and his heart went out to her. They sat a little apart, with the bear and the morse, the latter now peacefully chewing his cud.
Brother Aldo had vanished earlier, saying only that he would be back before moonrise, “Not that the moon will shed much light down here,” he added.
“I guess he went to find that trail, that is, if anyone can find it,” the girl said. Her dark face was drawn and tired in the light of the flames.
“Listen to that, will you!” Hiero said, springing to his feet, hand on sword. All the others had leaped up, too, as a perfectly appalling racket burst out not far away, hideous, earthshaking screams of rage rising above a deep, hoarse bellowing, as if the father of all cats had attacked the granduncle of all bovines. The bellowing sound alone made Klootz’s loudest efforts sound like a baby’s squall. As suddenly as they had begun, the frightful sounds died away, leaving everyone half-deafened. The ordinary screeches, yells, and howls of the night resumed, aided by the sounds of countless stridulating insects. The men slowly settled down again.
A large beast indeed, came a placid thought from Gorm. And it was attacked by one almost as large, which it slew. Now it is very angry, I think I would tell the men to be quiet. Very quiet.
Hiero dashed to the nearest group, hissing for silence. One look at his face brought compliance. If the bear warned, he had learned, it was as well to listen. Soon all the men were waiting, weapons drawn, not moving, but simply crouched and staring nervously around and outward.
It comes, was the bear’s thought. Be ready.
The Metz stood next to Klootz, trying to shield Luchare, who faced the same way into the dark as he did. It was to the south, he noted idly, trying to detect the creature’s mind as hard as he could. Presently he thought he had found it. The brain was not too unlike that of the morse, but far, far more stupid, and now filled with insensate rage and much pain as well. Hiero tried to probe it, but the animal was simply too new to him. He had not realized previously how alien the minds of the great herbivores really were and how much simple affection and long, mutual training had to do with his control over the big morse. He tried again, but the brute mind was too full of mad rage for any inexperienced hand to take over its control. And Aldo was absent. No, I’m back, came a quick, clear thought. Get one of its mind.
Hiero, and leave me alone! I’ll try to turn it. Hurry!
Now everyone could hear the monster. A footfall, so ponderous it actually shook the forest floor, began to echo at a steadily increasing beat. Great snorts and grunts sounded.
Get away from the fires! came the old man’s thought.
Hastily Hiero passed it on, and Gimp and the men began to scurry away to either side. Luchare pulled Klootz’s head around, and the two tugged him off behind the buttress root of a great tree, clearing the flimsy camp barrier as they did.
Now the incredible steps broke into a crashing run, and almost at the same time, the creature gave voice. Its fight with the slain attacker must have been further away than he realized, the priest thought, as that awful, ringing bellow almost shattered his eardrums.
Out of the dark it came, perhaps just such a titanic bulk as must have peopled the earth for millions of years in the past, before the coming of man. Now, due to incredible hard radiation and consequent forced mutation, the same conditions of life had once again given such creatures another, second chance. Its great, brown head, short-trunked on a heavy, columnar neck and carrying upper and lower pairs of ivory tusks, towered up at least twenty feet above the terrified men. The close-furred giant body sloped from pillarlike front legs to shorter ones in the rear, and as it passed, the Metz saw its tiny tail, a mere afterthought, flapping in the air. Fresh wounds on its flanks gleamed red in the firelight, and the small, ruby eyes gleamed also as it sought for fresh enemies. But the fires seemed to distract it. It charged straight and hard at the nearest and careened right through it, sending burning logs spinning in every direction. Its voice rising to a new volume, it charged the next fire and scattered that also. Without ceasing its incredible rush, it blundered across the little clearing, through the barrier, and into a gap between two monster trees. Even as the light died, it vanished from sight. Everyone stood, appalled, in the gathering gloom, listening as it lumbered on and away, crashing a course off into the distance, still roaring hideously as the pain of its burned feet, added to the previous wounds, reached the tiny brain. Almost before one realized it, the sound had died away in the distance and the “normal” noises of the night forest once again resumed.
“All right, men,” Brother Aldo’s voice came cheerfully. “Let’s get those fires going again and build up the barrier. It won’t be back, but other things may. Hurry up now; no time for idling.” The old Elevener, appearing out of nowhere, stood in the middle of the clearing, helping Gimp and Hiero direct the work, until all was as before, except that the barrier was now chest-high at least. When new watches had been set, he told Gimp to turn over command to Blutho and join them. At this point they discovered that three men were missing, all ordinary seamen.
“Probably ran off in a panic and got lost or ate by something,” Gimp said philosophically. “If people won’t listen, what can you do? I tell them no-good swipes a thousand times, ‘Stay here with us,’ but they know better!”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Aldo said. “Let us be glad it’s not worse. At least I can detect no Unclean activity, only the Poros, that poor, simple beast which blundered into us.”
“Poor beast!” Luchare burst out. “That great horror!”
“Well, yes, I think so,” was the gentle answer. “This is his forest, you know, princess, not yours. He had just been in a terrible fight and he thought he saw more enemies in us. I sent him to bathe his burned feet in the Inland Sea,” he added, “and now he’ll feel better.” His tone was exactly that of a nurse whose spoiled charge had been soothed.
Hiero smiled to himself. The Eleveners were indeed the guardians of all life! He rather approved, he realized, though it would take a long time for him to see the Brobdingnagian Poros as the simple-minded child that Brother Aldo obviously did.
“Now that that’s over, I think I can keep us from being bothered by any more of the forest people, at least tonight. And I have found the trail, you’ll be glad to know.” The old fellow beamed at them in pleasure and stroked his curly beard affectionately.
“I’ll be glad to know a lot of things,” Gimp said aggressively, “such as who’s going to pay me for a new ship, not that there’s another like old Foam Girl, mind. And all her cargo, too, gone in a wink, plus the juicy plunder I claimed from Roke’s ship, and hard-won that was. All in all, Brother, I could have retired on that lot, and my men too. Who’s to pay us, eh, and when and also where? Are you going to wander about in this wood until we’re all ate by something like that walking mountain we just missed?” Despite his gloomy words, Hiero noted that the little seaman’s eyes were still bright and his ridiculous pigtail still perky. Though he would have died rather than admit it, Gimp was a pure romantic, actually one of those people who revel in constant excitement and new ventures. He liked pay, of course, if he could get it, but it was only secondary, and so was his grumbling. Now he cocked an eye from Hiero to the old man in question.