However, the monster almost immediately reverted to its thickheaded posture. "I need neither kyrie nor anyone else to destroy the minotaurs. If I cared to do such a thing, I would do it myself, slowly, one by one, over a period of time. Why should I join with you?"
Bird-Spirit had no doubt that the bulette was probably right. Left to its own devices, it could eliminate the minotaurs on its own, given enough time. But Cloudreaver, Caramon, and the others couldn't wait for that eventuality.
"If you ally yourself with us, we promise to cede this island to you and the other animals as your domain for the next one thousand years. As the leader in battle, you no doubt would be recognized as the supreme chief of the island," Bird-Spirit added. He couldn't read the effect of his appeal in the bulette's cold, blank eyes. "And then there is the matter of your wound, which through magic I am able to heal."
The bulette remained impassive. Bird-Spirit waited patiently. The wound continued to secrete green slime.
"My injury first," the monster finally said. "Then we can discuss who might join us in a battle against the minotaurs.
The bull-men have no friends among the creatures on this island. Of course," it seemed to chuckle, "neither do I."
In order to dress the bulette's wound, Bird-Spirit had to cut the creature free from the tanglenet first, slashing the chokeweed near the base of its stem, then dissecting the tendrils in as many places as possible. Later he used some of the pieces to make a sling to hold the monster so he could carry it back to their campsite.
It took all of Bird-Spirit's strength to lift and transport the huge creature. Caramon, Tanis, Sturm, Flint, and the rest looked on in horror as the kyrie deposited the land shark in their midst just after dusk. Although the creature appeared docile, it lumbered sullenly to the edge of the camp and stared out into the desert distrustfully.
Cloudreaver greeted Bird-Spirit when he saw him return with the land shark. The two kyrie stood apart and talked together briefly in their own language. Then, beaming, Cloudreaver brought his friend forward to join the others.
"What good is such a creature to us?" asked Caramon.
"The minotaur camp is well defended. We are greatly outnumbered. We need allies wherever we can find them," Cloudreaver explained. "There is no more fearless fighter than a bulette. According to Bird-Spirit, this one has promised to summon other land creatures to come to our aid and has told us as well about a mountain lair of rocs that he feels can also be entreated to join our cause. I will send Star Twin to communicate with the rocs and seek their help."
"Rocs!" Flint exclaimed. Although Flint was a hill dwarf, not a mountain dwarf, he was still well versed in the reputation of these huge birds of prey, which resembled overgrown eagles, with wingspans of up to one hundred and twenty feet. Mountain dwarves who mined in remote regions sometimes were attacked by rocs defending their nests.
"There never was a roc who helped a dwarf, or vice versa," Flint said vehemently.
Caramon looked pleadingly at Tanis, who interceded to calm the dwarf. "Cloudreaver is right-we need help. If Bird-Spirit can capture a bulette, then perhaps Star Twin can tame the rocs for us." Tanis looked at the half-ogre, who as usual was standing not far from Flint. "Kirsig and I will do our best to keep the rocs out of your way and keep you out of theirs."
Kirsig, who was taking the subject of rocs and dwarves very seriously, crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded emphatically.
"When can we expect our unusual allies to join us?" asked Sturm. Since his rescue from the Pit of Doom, the Solamnic had come to have a deep respect for the kyrie and saw no reason to question the wisdom of their unorthodox plan.
Bird-Spirit cocked his head in the direction of the bulette, appearing to listen for a few moments. "The message has gone out. The morning should bring new friends. The best thing to do is wait. We should rest until then."
Following his own advice, the kyrie squatted down, closed his eyes, and went to sleep almost immediately. Or at least he seemed to. After a minute, Bird-Spirit opened one eye. "Wake me to stand guard if necessary," he added before closing his eyes again.
"I rested today while you scouted," Yuril stated. "I'll take first shift and wake someone when I get tired."
Yuril scooped up a blanket from the ground and strode over to sit against a large tree at the edge of the forest cover where they had made camp. The others began moving off to find a comfortable place to sleep. Several kyrie and the rest of the sailors from the Castor had already begun to bed down.
"I, uh, have to sharpen my sword and get my other weapons ready for tomorrow," Caramon mumbled to no one in particular. "I guess I'll go keep Yuril company."
Sturm and Tanis exchanged looks. "Just remember that one of you is supposed to be standing watch," Tanis called out after him.
In truth, Caramon had been preoccupied with the whereabouts of his twin ever since Raistlin had disappeared earlier in the day. He didn't think he could fall asleep even if he tried. Yuril, however, proved to be a soothing presence.
Flint also slept, but not well. His dreams were filled with the rustlings and movements of great wings swooping down on him. Kirsig, who sat up to keep watch over the dwarf, had to pull the blanket he had thrown off back up around the old dwarf's neck several times.
When he finally woke the next morning, Flint saw that the sounds disturbing his sleep had been real, only they were produced by curious land animals rather than denizens of the air.
On the southwestern edge of the campsite stood the bulette. Behind it, in the early dawn light, the desert ground appeared to surge and buckle. Flint looked closer. "Great Reorx!" he exclaimed. Dozens of giant, low-slung insects, their backs covered by hard, black, jointed shells, their heads ending in a pair of small but effective-looking mandibles, covered the desert floor.
"Horax."
"What?" Flint asked the kyrie who had come up next to him.
"They live underground and grow to be almost as long as we are tall. They attack in packs," the kyrie explained. "Luckily I've never had the misfortune to run into them. I've heard they crush the life out of you with their curved pincers."
Seeing Flint's jaw drop, the kyrie added, "Don't worry. They're taking orders from the bulette, and the bulette's on our side-for the time being."
"Their pincers are powerful, all right," piped up Kirsig, who had joined them. The half-ogre seemed to have a useful store of information about any given subject. "My daddy said they could really be a nuisance if they got into underground tunnels you were using. They don't much like sunlight, usually. I trust they can put up with it for a few hours during the attack."
All of the companions, the kyrie, and the sailors had risen now and were staring at the strange horde of animals-the bulette, the packs of horax, and in the rear, odd rock formations that shifted and moved. Flint rubbed his eyes wonderingly.
"Kirsig," he whispered, tugging on the half-ogre's sleeve. Flint pointed beyond the horax.
The reddish-brown rocks had shifted again, revealing themselves to be not inanimate stones but the knobby hide of a gigantic reptile. Hint gauged the monstrous serpentine creature to be nearly two hundred feet from the end of its long, whiplike tail to the tip of its pointed, fanged snout. The behemoth appeared to rest flat on the ground, its flipperlike feet splayed out on either side of its scaly body.
What Flint had taken for caverns in the rock were actually the creature's eye sockets, which were recessed so deeply you couldn't glimpse its eyes. The monster idly lashed its tail across the ground, flattening several rock outcroppings.