Crisis On Doona (8 page)

Todd mounted up again. He sent a concerned glance toward Hrriss. “There’s a snake blind only a hundred meters ahead, if you need a rest.”

“I am all right,” Hrriss assured him. “Truly. There is no real damage. The circulation will return to the leg in a short time. It could have been worse.”

“Could have been much worse,” Todd said. Then, with a wicked grin, he added, “It could have been your tail!”

“Team Three leaving the spawning grounds,” his radio announced. “They’re moving slow this year. Vic just herded a couple of tiddlers that were trying to leave the grounds from the wrong side. Look out for ’em. They’re mad.”

“Fardles!” Todd put his heels to his horse. Hrriss’s episode had taken only a few minutes from start to finish.

The sound of hoofbeats pounding up behind her made Kelly swivel about in concern. One, no, two horses returning. She relaxed and smiled as Todd and Hrriss passed her.

“Hrriss did it in!” Todd called. Hrriss was leaning to the right, obviously favoring his left leg. “Good kill. Mommy Snake! Fifteen and a half meters or I’ll eat it. But he’d better not get a big head, or he won’t get through the trees!”

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Kelly said to Hrriss, at the same time pulling a face at Todd. “That was a magnificent tackle! I hope those two Hrrubans realize you saved their lives.”

“Those foolish ones were made to understand that by Zodd,” Hrriss assured her, his tail tip lashing to one side of his saddle. The others cheered and shouted encouragement to him as he resumed his place in the line. Todd moved ahead and raised his radio on high as a signal to move out. Kelly told the other team leaders that Todd was in charge again and clipped her own box to her belt.

They were moving swiftly up on the most dangerous part of the Hunt. The team was about to leave the jungle and move out on featureless grasslands. Without the trees to restrict them, the snakes often attempted to escape from their shepherds and go in search of landbound food. The task of keeping the swarm together the rest of the way was made more difficult by the local land-owner.

Twenty-five years ago, when the Treaty allowed more Humans in, to match the Hrruban population, Codep had added four families to the original eleven in the First Village. The Boncyks were one of those four. In spite of warnings from the established colonists that the snakes used this area as a thoroughfare twice a year, Wayne claimed the fertile plain not far from the marsh for his family’s holdings. On top of that disregard for local wisdom, the Boncyks compounded their problems by running herds of cattle and teams of pigs, China and Poland. Naturally the snakes, especially the hungry tiddlers, found the smell of live meat irresistible. The larger ones, with the larger hungers, would go berserk if the wind shifted to tantalize them with the odor of edibles.

To prevent wholesale slaughter, this was when the teams had to be most alert. The Hunters were already tired. Fortunately the snakes were wearing out, too, but they became more cantankerous and tricksy. Once the tantalizing Boncyk farmlands were past, the salt marshes were not far, and once the snakes reached them, they would disperse while the teams remained on guard to drive back any who might decide to return to dry land
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and fat cows and pigs. When the last of the snakes were back in the salt marshes, hunting the rodents, waddlers, waders, and other such tidbits, the Hunt would be declared over and the triumphant teams would return to the village common, except for the skeleton force that remained on guard until the next morning.

Jilamey had had his eye on a pair of young adolescent snakes almost since he rejoined the run. With the bare treetops of the marsh wood in sight, he was going to have to move quickly to capture his quarries before they vanished into the fetid waters. Kelly watched him measuring the distance to the edge of the marsh.

With a now-or-never expression on his face, Landreau spurred his horse toward the pair. He had his quarterstaff well balanced in his right hand, confident that he could knock the snakes on their blunt skulls, stunning them, and secure them alive.

In theory, it was a good idea. However, it failed utterly to take into account the nature of snakes. As soon as Jilamey thumped one of the fleeing tiddlers in the back of the head with the heavy staff, it turned. As quickly as patterned lightning grounding through a rod, the snake swarmed up the quarterstaff, hissing furiously. It wrapped its wrist-thick coils around Jilamey’s arm and struck at him. The long, white teeth snapped on nothing as the youth ducked and thrashed at his assailant.

Letting her crossbow dangle, Kelly drew her knife and kicked Calypso to the rescue. The snake struck again, this time penetrating flesh. With a screech that ascended into the soprano register, Jilamey warded off the snake and started clubbing the reptile over the head with the butt of his little gun, which he had grabbed in desperation. To the surprise of those observing the fracas, the snake dropped limp across the saddlebow. In the berserk frenzy of panic, Jilamey kept battering the twitching body even after the others had called to him to stop.

“Now, don’t that beat all!” Don exclaimed, laughing. “That micro-sized popgun did some good, after all!”

“Well, gather him up before he slides off your lap!” Kelly ordered Jilamey, reining in next to him and expertly digging her fingers for a firm hold on the slippery scales. With her free hand, she fumbled for a snake bag and passed it over. “I don’t think you remembered one of these. Cram it in and be sure you tie the neck of the sack as tight as possible. They’ve been known to wiggle free if they’ve any space.”

“I did it, didn’t I? I captured one!” Jilamey’s red face was now suffused with incredulous triumph and his voice broke a bit on the “captured.”

“If you remember to get it in the bag,” Hrrin called, teeth showing under his feathery brown moustache. Although excitement made his hands shake, Jilamey managed to stuff the limply uncooperative and slithery coils of snake into the bag and securely fastened the tie. “Congratulations. You’re half-way there!” Hrrin added.

Still holding the bag, Jilamey looked about him, not certain what to do with his prize. Jan took pity on him and helped him secure it to the saddle on rings embedded in the saddle tree for just such a purpose. Eyes shining, Jilamey galloped to rejoin Team One. Jan followed more sedately, an indulgent grin on her face.

Just inside the boundaries of his ranch, Wayne sat on his horse, flanked by his wife, Anne, and their eldest son. Nearby, on a pair of nervously curvetting horses, were Wayne’s guests for the Hunt, a couple from the Hrruban home world. They were all armed with crossbows with explosive quarrels, ready to deal with any reptiles escaping from the cordon. The younger Boncyk hefted a bazooka on his right shoulder while his horse shifted under him, trying to balance itself against the weight. Wayne posed another problem to the teams: he was a notoriously bad shot. He had a tendency to detonate the ground right in front of a Hunter’s horse more often than the snake it was pursuing. Todd’s horse had been spooked by one of Wayne’s bombs the year before, dumping him in the pigpens, so he kept one wary eye on the stockman as they passed him.

Kelly could feel the wind shifting as they came up the hill. That was the worst thing that could happen. Instead of a following breeze that swirled the heady snake musk around them, a new stench filled the air, as potent as snake, blindingly putrid as well as sickly sweet.

“Faugh,” Kelly said, averting her head and wondering if it would do any good to jerk her scarf over her nose.

“Oh, no,” Todd groaned. “Pig air!”

Not only pig was in the air but also the delectable aroma of livestock, blown directly from the Boncyk herds and teams into the noses of ravenous snakes. In a maneuver as planned as a dress parade, the snakes turned, a great river of rippling, leaf-patterned hide across the Hunters’ cordon, rolling uphill toward the farm buildings. With no river, hill, or wood between the snake thoroughfare and the farm, there were no barriers to deflect the snakes’ inexorable approach.

The moment the pig stink came his way, Todd called for the Sighter crafts to pick up Lures and make a drop near the marsh in an attempt to divert the main bulk of the reptiles. Then he called for any available Beaters and Hunters. The teams spread themselves out across the field to try and contain the flow and regain control. Kelly could hear the screaming farm animals, their cries reaching up the scale to pure panic. They seemed to sense their danger despite the shift of the wind. Boars might have stood and faced the reptiles, but not the gentler China and Poland pigs who were milling about their sturdy pens with no refuge from the approaching menaces. Even if the pressure of the terrified animals broke down the pen bars, they hadn’t the speed to outrun snakes. The only hope of saving them was to head the snakes off again, with full firepower if need be, before they reached the pens.

“Stop them!” Boncyk called, galloping up, waving his crossbow. “My pigs!”

“Damnit, Wayne, you’ve been told year after year to get those pigs out of here before spawning season!” Don snapped.

“The sows are farrowing this month! I can’t move them when they’re birthing; they’re too set in their ways.”

“They’re not the only ones,” Don grumbled under his breath, but Kelly heard him and grinned.

The stockman and his retinue galloped after Team One, haranguing Todd all the way. Todd had one object in mind: to stand between the threatened sties and the onrush of snakes, firing to turn them away. It was unlikely that they could save all the animals, but he meant his team to try.

The wooden enclosures were too far apart and too big for the Hunters to surround. The team hauled their horses to a halt, giving them a breather as they assessed the best vantage points before the swarm arrived.

Todd and Hrriss decided that they’d best guard the narrow path between the two barns that lay between the snakes and their prey. Bottling them up in that space would make them easier to turn, with some scud bombs to halt them and give the ones behind pause. The older and bigger snakes were smart enough to sense the danger of such tight quarters and turn back to look for easier pickings in the marshes.

Wayne and his family flanked the edges of the buildings, concentrating on the reptiles who would avoid the main route and try to slip around. Still watching the way the wind blew, Kelly realized that the wind carrying the pigs’ scent was blowing directly toward the worn pathway, and not back into the main mass of reptiles. If the wind shifted, they’d be surrounded in minutes. And goodbye, Boncyk Bacon.

The defiant screams of the team’s horses echoed off the high walls to either side of them. The slower-moving snakes were nearly there. Kelly had never noticed before what a terrifying sound their bellies made, slithering on the dry grass. Oh, a single snake could be silent when it was sneaking up on its prey, but dozens and hundreds of them made the grass hiss beneath them.

“Don’t worry about tiddlers,” Todd cried. “It’s the big ones that we need to turn back. They can swallow a sow whole.”

“Here! I need help here!” Anne Boncyk shouted from behind the grain barn. She galloped into sight, waving an empty crossbow. “There’s a mess of them sneaking around the barn!” Kelly swiveled her head. Two of the infiltrators were lying contentedly in the gravel, engulfing the bodies of their deceased comrades without a care for the crossbow quarrels sticking straight up, but half a dozen others were making straight for the farrowing pens.

With a sharp command, Hrriss sent his ocelots to Anne’s rescue. Gathering their haunches, the spotted cats pounced onto the back of the two largest reptiles, four meters long, and dragged them thrashing like severed air hoses out of the pens. With a quick bite behind the flat heads, the cats dispatched their prey and went for two more. The respite gave Anne time to reload both her crossbows.

A young reptile, only about three meters long, whipped between the team’s horses. Three spears jabbed for it all at once, but all missed their mark.

“Damn!” groaned Don, and shouted over his shoulder, “Anne, a three-meter coming through!”

“No, I’ll take it!” Jilamey said. “I gotta get two.” He wheeled his horse about and pursued the young snake.

Rolling his eyes at such bravado, Todd gestured for Kelly to follow Landreau. If the boy had been sent to embarrass Doona by getting killed in the Snake Hunt, Todd was determined the plan would fail. Jilamey had managed the first catch, somehow, but anything could happen here, with snakes all too close to valuable stock.

At first, the snake was too intent on catching its meal to realize it was being pursued. Jilamey drew his miniature gun and shot at its back. He hit it square, but the low-caliber slug just bounced off the scaly hide. But the snake felt the impact and turned to see what had hit it. Seeing Jilamey bearing down, it slowed a trifle.

Encouraged, Jilamey galloped at it, trusty quarterstaff poised above his head. “Yeee-hah!” he yelled, bringing the long stick down on the snake. It was a good, solid hit. The snake stopped dead and compressed itself into a hurt knot. Jilamey had learned a lesson during his previous misadventure. Before the snake could get a coil about the staff, he discarded it and reached for the crossbow.

He never got a chance to use it. The snake sprang around the horse’s leg, lashing out with its tail to encircle a hind leg and bring the animal, and rider, down. The horse, instinctively lashing out behind, then reared and stumbled, falling across a young Mommy Snake which had broken through the cordon. The Mommy was stunned and the tiddler got mashed. Todd and Gypsy came round the corner, chasing the Mommy, Todd with his crossbow cocked. If Jilamey fell now, the Mommy would take him in one gulp.

But Jilamey’s mount was an old campaigner, and once he felt his legs free, he danced backward as fast as he was able until he was stopped by the rails of the sty, where once again he reared, striking out with his front legs. The Mommy reared up, too, just as Jilamey, roaring commands at the rearing horse, slid off its rump, over the rails and straight into the sty, landing with a splat on his back in the muck.