Alan Dean Foster Catechist 01 Carnivores Of Darkness & Light

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permanently. Crackling with energies exotic and inexplicable, the wind from
between the stars struck the tornado foursquare in the center of its boiling
column-and ripped it apart. Overwhelmed by forces beyond imagining, from
beyond the Earth, brought forth through the medium of a sword forged from
metal that itself had been subject to the whims of the intergalactic winds,
the mere column of air could not stand. With a last outraged howl it came
asunder, fell to pieces, and collapsed in upon itself. The great pillar of
conflicted energy blew apart, hurling its internal collection of dead fish and
broken branches and river beach sand and the limbs of the unfortunate dead
flying in all directions. As the radiance from the sword faded and the
unearthly wind it had called up died with it, Simna was released from his
imprisonment and allowed to slump to his knees. Something smacked against the
stone where his head had been pinned only moments before, and he turned to see
the upper half of a carp lying on the rocks where it had fallen. The boiling
clouds from which the tornado had derived its strength shattered silently,
their constituent parts dissipating into the resultant blue sky. In a little
while all was as calm and peaceful as it had been before the storm's arrival.
Lizards emerged from their dens in the rocks, small dragons took wing and
resumed their singing in concert with the birds, and vultures appeared as if
from nowhere to feast on the widely strewn, discarded contents of the
tornado's belly. Taking a deep breath of uncommitted air, Ehomba slipped the
sky-metal sword back into the scabbard lying flat against his back and turned
to reflect on the cause of all the commotion. The huge black cat was sitting
on its haunches in the grass, which was only now beginning to spring back to
the vertical from the effects of the deviant wind. Licking its left paw with a
tongue thicker than the herdsman's foot, it was grooming itself silently,
working its way from nose back to mane. It did not let Ehomba's approach
interrupt its labors. "You saved me." "You speak well in a tongue not
widespread among your kind." "Humans presume to know too much about cats." A
paw that could easily have taken the herdsman's head off with one swift stroke
daintily combed through the long black ruff that formed the fluffy mane. Claws
like daggers isolated individual hairs.
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"That is certainly true. I am Etjole Ehomba, of the Naumkib." When silence
ensued, he added as he leaned on his spear, "What am I to call you?" "Gone, as
soon as I can get myself cleaned up." The stroking paw paused and piercing
yellow eyes met the herdsman's. "I am a litah." "A litah," Ehomba echoed. "A
small name for so big a brute." "It is not a name." The cat was mildly
annoyed. "It is what I
am. My father was a lion, my mother a cheetah." "Ah. That would explain your
lines, and your legs."
Brows drew together like black ropes thick as hawsers. "What's wrong with my
legs?" "Nothing, not a thing," Ehomba explained hastily. "It is just that it
is unusual to see such a combination of speed and strength in one animal." "A
lot of good it did me." Grumbling and rumbling, the litah set to work
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...01%20-%20Carnivores%20Of
%20Darkness%20&%20Light.txt (67 of 143)19-2-2006 17:31:32
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...20Catechist
%201%20-%20Carnivores%20Of%20Darkness%20&%20Light.txt chewing on his
hindquarters. "What did you expect?" Out of the corner of an eye, Ehomba saw
Simna ibn Sind approaching, slowly and cautiously. "For the wind to play
fair?" The litah turned back to him, his tongue scouring around his snout.
"Animals as well as humans always expect too much of Nature. I
was truthful, but tactless. I admit I did not think the wind would take it so
much to heart, if heart it can be said to have had." Bright eyes glanced
heavenward, searching the sky behind Ehomba. "You are a sorcerer." "See? See?"
Coming up alongside the herdsman, Simna chimed in his agreement with the cat's
assertion. "I'm not the only one." Ehomba sighed tiredly. "I am not a
sorcerer," he told the litah. "I am only a herdsman from the south, bound by
an obligation set upon me by a dying stranger to travel to the north and then
to the west in hopes of helping a woman I do not know."
The litah grunted. "Then you are right. You are no sorcerer. Any wizard, human
or animal, would have better sense." Simna drew himself up proudly next to his
friend. "He won't admit to it, but he's really after treasure. A great
treasure, buried somewhere in the lands across the western ocean." Beside him,
Ehomba was shaking his head sadly. "I have no use for treasure," the litah
growled softly. "I need water, and sex, and a place to sleep. And meat." With
this last, he eyed Simna thoughtfully. "Now wait a minute, whatever your name
is." Putting his hand on the hilt of his sword, Simna took a step backward.
In addition to putting a little more distance between himself and the cat,
this also had the effect of placing him slightly behind the herdsman. "My
friend here just saved your life." "Yes, curse it all." Idly, the cat
inspected the claws of his right foot, holding them up to his face as he
studied the spaces between for thorns or bits of stone. "Since humans cannot
talk without having names to address, and since you already know me as a
litah, I suppose you may as well call me Ahlitah as anything." "Very well-
Ahlitah." Ehomba eyed the great black feline uncertainly. "But why 'curse it
all'? Most creatures express gratitude and not irritation when someone saves
their life." The heavy paw descended and the brute rolled over onto his back,
rubbing himself against the grass and the ground with his paws flopping loose
in the air. A wary Simna was not yet reassured, and continued to keep his
distance despite the kittenish display. "I suppose it's not in my nature.
Therefore I am not especially grateful. I am, however and unfortunately,
indebted. This is a legacy that both my lines are heir to, and I am sadly no
different."
Concluding its scratching, the cat twisted with unnatural quickness back onto
its feet and began to pad toward Ehomba. The swordsman held his ground, as did
Simna-behind him. "Easy now," the swordsman whispered. "This Ahlitah's idea of
gratitude may be different from our own." "I do not think so." The herdsman
waited, hand on spear, its butt end still resting unthreateningly on the
ground. The great cat finally halted, its face less than inches away from
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Ehomba's own. Its jaws parted slightly, revealing major canines more than half
a foot long. From between them emerged a giant pink tongue that proceeded to
slather the herdsman's face in drool from chin to hairline. The tall
southerner gritted his teeth and bore the infliction. The sensation was akin
to having one's face rubbed hard in the sand. Taking a step backward, Ahlitah [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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