Warden (3 page)

Ignoring his wounds, Errol continued rolling until he was on his stomach once more, then immediately drew in his legs so that he came up on his fingertips and toes. Maintaining his momentum, he launched himself sideways as the bladebeak struck down and missed a third time.

Errol hit the ground and rolled, coming up on his feet exhausted, breathing heavily, and fully expecting to see the bladebeak bearing down on him. Therefore, it was a bit of a surprise to him when, instead of finding himself about to be run through, he saw the bird with two-thirds of its beak still buried in the ground. Moreover, the bladebeak produced a kind of sad whimpering as its feet clawed madly at the ground, digging up huge clumps of dirt.

It was immediately evident to Errol what had happened. Although the bird had missed him with its last thrust, it had obviously penetrated something else – some object buried under the ground. It was stuck!

Errol grinned, almost unable to believe his luck. However, the way the bird was scooping up dirt, his luck wouldn’t last long.

Looking around, Errol quickly spied his sword on the ground not too far from where the bladebeak was trapped. He quickly retrieved it, smiling, then turned and walked leisurely towards the animal with a self-satisfied smile on his face. It was a nigh-fatal error.

As he approached, the bladebeak’s foot zipped towards him without warning, almost finishing the job that it had begun on his stomach earlier and making the smug look on his face immediately disappear. The foot actually connected with the longsword, which had been hanging loosely in Errol’s hand and which he’d tried to use in a halfhearted attempt to block his opponent’s talons. Errol watched in surprise as the sword went flying off into the trees.

The bladebeak braced its legs, and then its neck went taut as it seemed to make a weird grunting noise. The area of earth around the buried portion of its beak began to part and shift upwards, as if something were boring its way out of the ground. The bird trembled bodily with the strain of the effort, but slowly, unbelievably, its beak (and whatever was attached to it) began lifting up from the ground.

Errol stared in shock as the beak finally cleared the ground and he saw what it had pierced: a thick piece of tree bark that, although clearly buried for a long period of time, was still amazingly firm.

Errol’s mind raced through his options. With that piece of bark on the end, the beak wouldn’t be as effective as previously, but was still a hazard – especially since he no longer had his sword. The true threat now was quite likely the bird’s talons; he needed a counter to them.

The bola!

Errol scanned the area wildly as the bladebeak shook its head in an effort to dislodge the wood it had impaled.

There!
On the ground just a dozen yards away!

Errol broke out in a run. The bird, noticing the movement, attempted to screech as it gave chase. However, its movement and speed were awkward and ungainly, as it had to hold its head in an unnatural position to see around the wood on its beak. That gave Errol a few extra precious – but necessary – seconds as he reached the bola. He bent down and scooped it up essentially without stopping, and in almost a single motion twirled it twice over his head and flung it at the bladebeak’s legs.

It was far from his best throw. In fact, thrown without proper balance or aim and with far too little momentum, it was downright ugly. Still, Errol was pleased to see that it got the job done, wrapping around the lower portion of the bird’s legs and tripping it up. The bladebeak went down hard, smacking its head solidly on the ground and then skidding for a few feet before coming to a halt almost directly in front of Errol.

The bird groaned, then raised its head slightly and shook it from side to side, obviously dazed. Errol stepped forward and put his boot on its neck just below its head. He pressed down, forcing the animal’s head and beak back towards the ground and practically making the bird immobile.

Errol drew his dagger. He had been prepared earlier to place an impulse on the bird and let it move on. Unfortunately, in his battle with it, the bladebeak had displayed an open willingness to attack people. Thus, if he let it go, there was a very good chance that it would kill someone. Still, he hated to take the life of such a magnificent animal, and – although he hated to admit it – the way the bird had fought had earned his respect. Nevertheless, despite his admiration for the bladebeak, his duty as Warden came first. He bent down to slice its throat.

The bird’s eyes seemed to roll around its head wildly, and it croaked audibly – a sad, melancholy warbling that, although muffled somewhat by the wood still impaled on its beak, was full of sorrow and woe. The sound took Errol so by surprise that he immediately stopped just as his dagger was about to connect with the bladebeak’s throat. There was something in that sound, that call, that echoed through him, made him figuratively sit up and take notice. This was more than just the cry of a dumb animal or beast of the Badlands, and he realized that it had an import that quite likely was beyond his ability to recognize.

His hand stayed, Errol stood there contemplating what his next course of action should be. That’s when he heard it: a noise much like that the bladebeak had made, but…different. Higher. Smaller. Coming from some place nearby.

Errol looked down at the bladebeak, thinking. The other warbling came again. Wondering if he was making a mistake, Errol lifted his foot off the bird’s neck. It remained on the ground, still addled from the tumble it had taken but slowly recovering. Still on edge, Errol turned and ran out of the clearing, through the forest towards the other sound he’d heard.

A few minutes later, he came across something unexpected: a huge, gaping hole dug into the ground. Shaped like a square, if appeared to be about ten feet in length on each side and about fifteen feet deep. Errol immediately recognized what it was – a trapping pit.

These types of pits had been used by people for thousands (if not millions) of years. Initially, they had been used to catch game; unsuspecting animals would fall in and be trapped. Occasionally, the top of the pit would be covered with twigs or some other flimsy material that – unable to bear any weight – would collapse whenever something stepped on it. In more recent times, such traps had been used to capture monsters in the Badlands, but – considering how dangerous such creatures were, even when captured – most of them had been abandoned.

Peering down into this one, Errol could see the bleached-white bones of numerous animals on the floor of the pit. Obviously, no one had bothered to check on this trap in a long time. Still he had an idea that something was alive down there, and after a few moments he was rewarded with movement. He heard the warbling again, and this time finally saw the source of the sound: a bladebeak.

It was apparently very young – only about two feet tall, with a beak of only about six inches. Looking at the area around it, Errol observed some bloody bits of fur and flesh, and it was suddenly quite obvious to Errol what had happened.

The bladebeaks, parent and child, had been traveling through this area when the young one fell into the pit. Unable to retrieve its chick from the pit and unwilling to abandon its offspring, the parent had stayed in the area, regularly hunting and bringing food to its little one. Errol couldn’t help but smile thinking of the elder bladebeak’s devotion to its child. He had to figure out a way to help them.

Errol studied the sides of the trap. Rather than being dirt, the sides were actually inlaid with stone. This was not uncommon; placing stones on the sides of the pit helped prevent monsters and game from being able to dig their way out. However, people occasionally fell into these pits as well, and there was usually a way for them to escape.

There!

Along one wall of the pit, Errol noticed that – from the top of the trap to the bottom – a stone would jut out slightly from the wall about every two feet. The stones only stuck out about an inch or so, but it was enough for a person in the pit to get a handhold or toehold and pull himself out.

Confident now that he was unlikely to get trapped, Errol got down on the ground and then lowered himself over the edge of the pit. He let himself dangle, arms outstretched, and – after making sure he wouldn’t land on the young bird – let himself drop.

The ground in the pit was rather soft, leading to a less jarring landing than Errol had imagined. Still, he bent his knees as his feet hit the ground in order to absorb some of the impact.

He looked around for the small bladebeak, and it took him a second to find it. Frightened, it had retreated to a corner of the pit, where it trembled silently. Errol approached it slowly, trying to hold his hands out in a non-threatening gesture; the little bird pecked at him, but missed.

So much for the easy way...

Errol reached down to where the elder bird’s claws had sliced open his shirt. He began to finish what the larger bladebeak had started, ripping off pieces of his shirt in long strips.

A few moments later, he had the young bird all trussed up with strips of cloth from his shirt, tied in such a way that its beak and claws posed no threat (although it whined piteously). After that, it didn’t take him long to climb up out of the pit, although doing so with the young bladebeak took a little extra effort and coordination.

Once out of the trap, Errol came slowly to his feet, gently cradling the little bladebeak in the crook of his left arm. He took a second to peer back into the pit, thinking how lucky the bird had been to escape serious injury when it fell into the trap.

Unexpectedly, the young bird shifted its weight as if trying to jump out of Errol’s grasp. At the same time, it seemed to make an effort to cry out, but – with a strip of Errol’s shirt tied around its beak – all that it managed was a muffled groan. Still, as the bird kept struggling, Errol had to use both hands to keep it from getting away. He backed a few steps away from the pit, fearful that the bird might actually succeed in escaping his grip and fall back into the trap.

The bird continued struggling and groaning. He was trying to figure out what had gotten into it when a shadow fell across him, a silhouette characterized by a long, graceful neck and a sword-like proboscis.

The bladebeak. The
adult
one.

The bird was right behind him, in a prime position to strike. There was no way he could avoid a deathblow from its beak at this range, nor did he have a weapon at hand to parry it (not to mention the fact that he was facing the wrong way).

Slowly, carefully, Errol turned until he faced the adult bladebeak. The animal was eyeing him intently from less than a foot away. (Somehow, it had not only gotten the piece of bark off its beak, but had also extricated itself from the bola.) Its gazed shifted momentarily to the young bird in Errol’s grip, then back to him.

After a few seconds (during which Errol barely breathed, let alone moved), it became clear that the larger bladebeak was waiting for something. When its gaze shifted once again to the bird that he was still holding, Errol knew what it was. Calmly and deliberately, he bent down and placed the still-struggling young bird that he held on the ground. He gave a slight tug on one end of the cloth that he had tied around its beak and the material came loose, allowing the young bird to chirp noisily and freely, obviously happy to be near its parent once again. However, when it tried to move, it tripped, hindered by additional ribbons of cloth Errol had tied around its feet.

Errol reached out to free the chick and it stabbed its beak at him, almost impaling his hand as it hissed angrily at him. Suddenly, the adult bladebeak warbled something and its offspring immediately became silent and still. The larger bird continued to eyeball Errol, who stood completely still, afraid of making any gesture that would be interpreted as threatening.

The adult bird, seemingly exasperated, made a weird clucking sound after a few seconds, and then craned its head forward. Before Errol realized what was happening, it had his right hand in its beak. Much to his surprise, it tugged his hand towards the chick. At that moment, realization dawned on Errol.