The Nothing: A Book of the Between (12 page)

Something tapped his shoulder. Gray, flexible. A trunk. Well, the elephant seemed friendly and smart. Definitely a better option than ravening sheep.

“Up you go,” he said, boosting Lyssa up as high as he could. She scrambled the rest of the way.

“Get out of here,” Weston shouted at the elephant.

Instead, it bent one leg and came down lower to the ground, presenting its trunk as a step stool. The sheep flung themselves against the closed door in a cacophony of thuds, baaing, and ringing of bells. Not a second to waste. Weston stepped up onto the elephant’s trunk and was lifted off the ground until he could vault upward onto its head. He was backward, but that was okay; he just had to keep his balance as the creature started moving.

The leader of the flock flung itself upward at the elephant’s shoulder, only to be flung backward with a blow of the trunk. Its bell tinkled as it flew through the air, where it struck a tree and slid, crumpled and unmoving, to the ground. The bell went silent.

Smarter than the average sheep, the rest drew back, forming a circle. There were too many and they wouldn’t be held off long. The elephant was big and had a weapon, but it couldn’t fight off so many predators.

Weston scrambled for the gun.

“What’s wrong with the sheeps?” Lyssa asked, clinging to one of the elephant’s ears.

“Everything. Hang on and lie down flat, okay?”

He should have specified the type of gun and amount of ammunition. It was an old Winchester repeater. Fully loaded, that meant fifteen rounds. Which might be enough, provided he didn’t miss a shot. Taking aim at one of the sheep, he pulled the trigger, hoping the sound wasn’t going to turn their elephant transport skittish.

A hit.

The sheep went down with a hole drilled right through its skull, kicked its legs once, and didn’t move again. As if it had merely been waiting for him to get situated, the elephant went on the offensive. Moving forward, swinging its trunk, it sent two of the sheep flying, one right, one left.

Weston picked off another from behind.

Real sheep would have scattered and fled by now. These regrouped. They also learned quickly. Avoiding the front of the elephant where the trunk was, they moved in from behind. One leaped at a rear leg, gashing the thick skin with its claws, climbing upward as if it were a tree trunk.

It was too close to take good aim, too far to bash it over the head. Weston pointed the gun in the general direction, hoping he didn’t get the elephant by mistake, and fired. The sheep dropped off and lay twitching on the grass.

Apparently, no great harm was done to the elephant, which broke into an earthshaking gallop.

“Hang on!” Weston shouted to Lyssa. He was still sitting backward with nothing to hang on to. All he could do was balance on the broad back, clinging to the flimsy cloth that served as a saddle, try to keep his teeth from jarring together, and hope that Lyssa was able to keep herself on behind him. If he tried to turn around at this pace, he was going to be a goner.

The good news was that the sheep pack had given up the chase, at least for the moment, and were busy nosing about the fallen. Just before the elephant rounded a corner, the last thing he saw was one of the surviving sheep tearing into a dead one and lifting a dripping muzzle into the air.

“V
IVIAN
!” Z
EE
shouted, flailing pointlessly to try to get close to the griffyn that held her.

She was alive and unhurt, struggling to break free. Zee had to reach her, had to help her, but there was nothing he could do. The remaining griffyn came at him and he fended it off with the sword, but barely. It shrieked at him and went for the defenseless Giant.

Callyn floated in the air not far off, eyes glazed, arms and legs spread out and motionless, the claws of the dead griffyn still buried in her belly. The blood had stopped spurting ,and Zee understood that it was too late to help her. The griffyn tore off a chunk of flesh with its beak. Zee lunged with his sword, but he was clumsy and ineffective, while the creature was in its element. Staying easily out of range, it darted in again.

He knew that the Giant was dead, that protecting her body was pointless, but he wouldn’t allow her to be so violated without trying. He lunged again, and this time, the griffyn flew off, carrying a chunk of flesh in its talons.

Zee stared after it until his eyes watered. He had to go after her.

“Godzilla!” he shouted, just as something bumped up against him from behind. “There you are. We’re going after her.” He caught hold of one of the dragon’s wings and pulled himself onto his back. “Where’s Poe?”

He spotted the penguin, flying as fast as he could with his stubby flippers, and snagged him out of the air as Godzilla flew past. Even in zero gravity, the dragon’s flight path was an insane zigzag that kept Zee’s stomach lurching from one side to the other. At least they were moving forward, faster than he could have gone on his own. And maybe the dragon could actually see farther than he could and would be able to find their now-vanished target. He hoped so, because he had no idea where to search.

What did he know about griffyns? Not a thing aside from the useless fact that they were mythological creatures. Obviously, they were predators and dangerous, but there had been an intelligence there that seemed to make them something more. Would they have an aerie like an eagle, or a den like a lion? Did he start looking high or low? Since one of them had carried Vivian off, did that mean they’d keep her alive awhile so as to have fresh meat later, or had they just been avoiding a battle?

The air grew warmer as they flew, the ice and snow below them replaced by trees and thick green vegetation. A thin blue line of river cut through it all. Zee’s eyes were in constant motion, looking for signs of the griffyns in the trees and on the land. He saw two deerlike animals walk out of a grove. A flock of grazing sheep. His heart lurched at a shadow overhead, but it was only an eagle.

Then gravity kicked back in. Zee’s heart thudded wildly. The air itself seemed to press in on him from all sides. And the dragon dropped like a stone, Zee’s fingers scrabbling uselessly on the slippery scales as he felt Godzilla fall away beneath him. Poe slipped from his grasp. They were free-falling, the earth rising rapidly to meet them.

Godzilla flapped valiantly with his good wing, swinging upward in a wild spiral. Zee hit the dragon’s back with a force that dazed him. Poe landed off to the side and both of them careened over the scales. Zee managed to get hold of the penguin’s flipper with one hand, using the other for balance.

No matter how hard the dragon tried, a crash landing was inevitable. Zee braced himself for impact, clutching Poe with one arm. He’d seen Godzilla crash before. If he wanted to survive, he needed to get well clear to avoid being crushed or spiked by accident. Just before touchdown, he flung himself sideways and into the air, rolling as he went. He landed on his bad shoulder, but the ground was soft and grass-covered and he bounced only once and rolled to a stop without any other injury.

For a minute, he lay still, letting the shock and pain drain away, catching his breath. Godzilla, at a fortunate distance, rolled over and pushed himself back up onto his feet. Poe shook himself and began preening his feathers. No danger to be seen, although Zee didn’t for a minute believe there wasn’t any. This was the Between. Something was sure to be lurking.

He got to his feet and reached for his sword with his right hand, stopped as the pain shot through him, and used his left. A look at the wound was not encouraging. It was still packed with dirt and had begun to fester. Red, hot, and oozing. Not good. Much as he wanted to stay in denial, he forced himself to look at the facts.

Any hope of reaching Vivian quickly was gone. Chances were good that she was already dead. If she were still alive, and if he could find her, he was going to have to fight to rescue her. For that, he needed to be as healthy as possible. So, much as the lost time galled him, he strode over to the river and began the painful process of cleaning his wounds.

VIVIAN WOKE to pain. Somebody was jabbing her hands and feet with tiny, burning pins and needles. It hurt. There was a tightness around her armpits, a sensation of flying. Her eyes flew open, remembering.

She still hung from the talons of the griffyn, only gravity had kicked in and the weight of her body was back, swaying with each beat of the giant wings. The air was warm, though, and the pain in her hands and feet was due to returning circulation. Below, the snow and ice had given way to a green canopy that looked like rainforest. They were descending, and when she saw where they were headed, she began to struggle, blindly and pointlessly. If the fabric that held her tore now, she would plummet to a certain death.

Which, she thought, might be preferable to the aerie for which they were headed. The nest was roughly constructed of branches and dried grass, lined with fur. Something glittered gold, but her entire focus was on the hungry beaks opening below. Babies.

They screeched in unison. Vivian stopped struggling and held perfectly still, not even daring to breathe. She willed the griffyn to keep flying, but the creature swooped low, opened its talons, and dropped her right into the nest. The instant she landed, she rolled into a ball, clasping her knees and hiding her face in an effort to protect eyes and vitals.

If ever she’d regretted not being able to shift into a dragon, it was then, right that minute. She grabbed for the penguin pendant and found it hanging heavy on her breast. Damn. That meant she was still in the Between and unable to shift anything. She had no weapons.

Holding the pendant in one hand, she tried to summon the Voice of Command.

“Don’t eat me.” The words came out high and squeaky and not commanding at all. She heard the babies approaching, knew those sharp beaks would tear into her flesh at any moment. Again she reached for the Voice, finding the strength within her, and this time knew she’d tapped into it before any words emerged.

“You will not eat me. You will carry me down to the ground and let me go.”

Nothing happened. The mother griffyn continued to watch her. The babies edged forward. The sound of wings above drew her eyes. The other griffyn passed over the nest, something red and wet clutched in its talons. The babies increased their squawking, beaks open like a bunch of baby robins. When the meat dropped into the nest, they were on it so fast, Vivian didn’t get a good look at it and was grateful. She had a sick certainty that she knew exactly where it came from.

The griffyn that had carried Vivian sat, catlike, on the far side of the nest, tail curved around her haunches, the tip twitching, green eyes intent and focused. Vivian scooted backward until she bumped up against the edge of the nest. She could see now that something was wrong with the baby griffyns. One of them had the eagle beak, but it also had whiskers and the round ears of a lion. Where its head and neck should have been feathered, it was covered instead with tufts of fur. Another had the eagle head part down okay, with the lion body, but only a small clump of feathers on either side where the wings ought to be. One of them, ribs protruding, lay perfectly still with its eyes half open, too weak to join the others in their feeding frenzy. Its thin sides barely moved with its shallow, rapid breath.

The mother griffyn approached the sick baby with feline grace, nudging it with her beak. The little creature’s body flopped away from her without response. Again she nudged it, this time moving the baby toward Vivian. It looked like a lion cub, no sign of eagle about it at all, with the exception of a small sprouting of feathers where a cat would have whiskers. The eyes were closed. The head lolled from the neck with no muscle resistance at all; the eyes didn’t open.

With a mournful sound more like a lonely cat than a great eagle or a lion, the mother griffyn nudged the baby again, this time all the way up into Vivian’s lap. The little creature weighed no more than a kitten. Keeping her eyes on the mother’s, Vivian tentatively ran her fingers over the soft fur. Something was wanted of her. There was an intelligence in the green eyes watching her that went beyond animal.