Chap. 306 The Tree Line

Chap. 306 The Tree Line

I see scavengers Raventh said.

Below them, Singing Waters Hold had changed from equatorial jungle on the northern coast, to temperate rain forest, to steppe, and now, savannah.

See them? Very large raptors. They’re feeding on something. I’ve never seen them bigger

He saw a seething mound of raptors and carrion wherries ahead. Even from this distance, he could see the raptors were twice the size of the wherries.

“K’ndar! Look at those scavengers!” D’mitran, flying point, called. “I want to see what they’re feeding on. If it’s a steer, that means there’s illegals out here, even though we’re a long ways from any warranted ranch or cothold. I’ve never been this far south on Lord Dorn’s Hold.”

“Lead on!”

Soon their dragons were directly above the scavengers. The heaving scrum of slashing beaks, flailing wings and feathered bodies covered a large carcass. Countless numbers of insects enveloped them in a dark, shimmering fog.

The smaller wherries fled at their approach. The raptors stood their ground, daring the dragons to usurp their carcass.

Raventh and Careth overshot the melee below, but Rath stalled.

“Hang on, Risal! He’s going to turn on a wingtip,” B’rost said, and at the same moment, Rath turned almost vertical, and, roaring, dove at the scrum.

“Eeeeeeeeeeee” Risal shouted, feeling her rump lifting from between Rath’s spines.

The raptors lumbered into the air, hissing their resentment. They landed a safe distance from the carcass and glared.

Rath righted himself. “Are you okay, back there?” B’rost said, biting his tongue to keep from laughing.

“Other than my heart attack?” Risal snapped, while clutching the harness in a death grip, “I’m glad I’m buckled in, does he do that all the time?”

B’rost, nodding, laughed.”Oh, yeah. He’s agile as can be. Browns are too clumsy to do this,” he boasted.

Rath rattled in agreement. He spiraled downward, wings scooping the air, and landed with a thump. Careth and Raventh were right behind him. The gusts of wind from their wings blew a cloud of feathers, dust and insects from the carcass. Even upwind, a dreadful stench permeated the air. “Eeewww,” Risal gasped.

The carcass had been half consumed, the top half of the creature stripped to the bone. Only hunks of tissue and skin still hung from them. Much of it was striped with wherry guano. What meat was left seemed to ripple with a blanket of uncounted numbers of insects.

The smell was overwhelming. “The dragons aren’t going to want to eat that thing, are they?” she asked, gulping at the thought.

“No, dragons don’t eat carrion. Not only that, most dragons won’t share a kill with anyone, not even another dragon,” B’rost said.

“K’ndar, we’re not going to eat our lunch here, are we?” Risal begged.

Dismounting, K’ndar smirked. “What? Bothered by a little stink?”

“Yes, I admit it, I’m a sissy,” she continued.

“Okay, sissy. If it makes you feel any better, being a biologist means I’m not supposed to admit that it’s making my stomach turn, too. We’ll move on soon, right after D’mitran and I check this carcass. B’rost, if you and Rath will cover us?”

“Aye.”

“We’re not getting off?”Risal asked, relieved.

“No. We’re standing guard, along with the dragons. Scavenging wherries, if there are enough of them, will attack a feeding dragon if he’s alone, and they have been known to attack humans. The raptors, I’m not so sure of. I’ve never heard of a raptor attacking humans or dragons, but these are huge, and there’s a lot of them. I don’t trust them,” B’rost said.

It was amazing, Risal thought, envious. These dragonriders all seem to know what to do with just a word-or even without one.

She felt excluded. I’m a member of the team but not their tribe, she thought. How thrilling it must have been to rise in one great cloud of dragons, to fight Thread. Or just to fly in a formation, like I’ve seen Landing’s dragonriders doing when they do their airborne drills. It’s as if they are all linked together. That camaraderie, that acceptance of anyone who’s impressed a dragon, is a culture I will never be part of.

D’mitran and K’ndar made their way to the carcass. The insects rose in a great wave. D’mitran stopped, dumbfounded. “Phew, but it’s high, and we’re upwind!” he said, as he began entering data into his datalink. “What in the name of Pern is this thing?”

K’ndar, a few paces back from him, stopped.Had he not learned as a child to keep his mouth shut in the presence of stinky things, his jaw would have been on his chest.

“I have no idea. But I don’t need to ping the database to say that it’s something new.” He pulled out his notebook and began to sketch the carcass. “Risal! You’re cameraman today?”

“Yessss,” she said, warily, “You want me to-oh. Right. Damn.”

“You don’t have to dismount. Give me the camera, I can take the pictures,” he said, hearing her reluctance.

“No,” she said, with sudden fortitude. I AM part of the team with a responsibility. I can’t let them down! “I’m cameraman today. Rath, a knee, please?”

Rath obliged. She patted him as she dropped to the ground. “Thank you, you handsome beast, even though you scare me half to death,” she said. Rath turned his head to her, his eyes whirling blue. Yes, I know, blue means a happy dragon, she thought. It made her feel better.

She purposefully clenched her stomach at the scent as she approached. It was subdued by astonishment. “What IS this thing?”

“Beats me, Risal,” K’ndar said, sketching furiously. “I see more than four limbs, so it’s a native. What tissue is left appears to be saurian. Take a lot of pictures, please? To include the surrounding ground, there are tracks everywhere, although they’re hard to see in this harsh light. Maybe we can learn what killed it or if it just died.” He swatted the fly that was attempting to enter his ear.

“I’ll get some closeups. But not TOO close to that smelly thing!”

The crowd of scavengers surged forward. Rath inflated and rushed towards them, his wings spread wide. The scavengers backed off, snapping and hissing.

“I’ve never seen raptors that look like these,” D’mitran said. “They’re huge. They have no feathers on their heads or necks. Look at the size of their beaks!”

“They’re a new species,” K’ndar said, now certain. “Look at those talons, they look large enough to disembowel a wher with one swipe. It’s obvious they’re dedicated scavengers. Risal, please, get some shots of the raptors?”

“Will do, boss,” she said. She held the camera with one hand and held her bandanna against her nose with the other. She took several shots of the waiting scavengers, then moved around the carcass to the downwind side to get a few more shots of it.

“Oh, shards, it’s even worse over here, ” she gulped, trying to not breathe while talking. “How in the world can anything stand this stink?”

“Some of the scavengers smell almost as bad,” K’ndar laughed. It was a mistake. He spit out the bug.

“K’ndar, I have to back off, please? My stomach is doing flips,” she asked.

“No problem, I think for now we’re done,” he said. “B’rost? Please get a good reading on the coordinates? I think I’ll come back tomorrow, I’m betting the scavengers will have finished. I want to collect samples of flesh, if there’s any left, and I hope to collect the skull.”

Risal hurried towards Rath. D’mitran followed her.

K’ndar searched for rocks with which to make a cairn, but there were none. He returned to Raventh and dug a mark in the ground with his heel. It skittered across the hard, dry soil. It hasn’t rained here in a long time, he thought.

“At least I know it’s not a steer. I’m wondering pfffft spptt damned flies,” D’mitran spluttered, trying to dislodge several particularly determined flies that were kissing him.”Let’s get out of here before the bugs carry us off.”

Once they were airborne, they took in huge lungfuls of clean, untainted air.The scavengers flooded forward to reclaim the carcass.

“I will probably have to strip before entering my quarters,” Risal said, “I stink after just a few moments.”

“Nah, you don’t,” B’rost said, “But then, you ARE behind me.”

She pishnucked the back of his head.

“See those trees off to the east? We’ll head there for lunch,” K’ndar said.

“I hope I can eat a meatpie after smelling that thing,” Risal mourned.

________________________________________________________

They passed the camera around, looking at the pictures as they rested at the base of a tall tree. Many more were behind them,

“Judging from their size, I’m thinking the raptors specialize in big beasts like this animal. The carcass is easily four meters long, maybe more.”

“Four point six three meters, by my datalink,” B’rost said.

In the trees behind them, they heard quorls chattering. Siskin launched from his perch atop Raventh’s head to hunt them.

“Where’s Siskin going?” Risal asked.

“Quorl hunting. They’re too smart to be caught, but he always tries.”

The trees were the vanguard of a forest that thickened southwards.

“Odd, that this is turning to savannah rather than continuing on as steppe,” K’ndar said, munching. “I was under the impression that the steppe ran all the way to the Eastern Range.”

“It IS odd, but, I’m thinking, these trees might indicate a higher water table, or just more precipitation here,” Risal said.

“You don’t know?” B’rost teased.

“No! Why should I, we’re so far south, no one ever wants weather for here.”

“I’m thinking it would be just the opposite,” B’rost said, “The mountains wring a lot of moisture from the southern winds, making for aridity. It SHOULD be steppe.”

“Not necessarily, B’rost. The winds come from the Southern Sea, the coast is a long ways from the range. You’re not going to get orographic rainfall from the South Sea. The winds are too cold.”

“No, I don’t think so, Risal, we’re due north of the Range. You can see where the Eastern Range splits longitudinally. Here, stand up, look directly south. See that big gap? If we fly out to that gap, I bet we’ll see a basin beyond it. Maybe even a rift valley, where two plates are splitting. That’s going to strip a lot of water before it gets here.”

Risal got up and the two walked out several meters. “But the plates don’t meet here! Those mountains are granite, B’rost.” She swept her hand from left to right.

“They could be limestone, or volcanic, like just every other mountain on Southern. They indicate subduction.”

“Limestone would be orogeny, B’rost. Meaning a plate running INTO another, not under.”

“I disagree.”

“Hand me the data link, please? I haven’t researched this area, B’rost, but I doubt the plates meet in the Range. Those mountains are from orogeny, not subduction,” Risal insisted. The two geologists began arguing in an unintelligible argot.

D’mitran and K’ndar exchanged glances. K’ndar was relieved. B’rost, it seemed, had taken the ass chewing to heart and was being a geologist.

K’ndar turned to D’mitran. “I thought I knew how far south Singing Water’s Hold went. I thought the boundary was the steppe. But we’ve left the steppe a while ago. This is savannah. Did I get it wrong?”

The brown rider shook his head. “No, K’ndar. I’m the wrong one! We’re off the map, K’ndar, and it’s because I wasn’t paying attention. I have no idea where we are.”

“What?” K’ndar said. It felt so strange to hear D’mitran admit to making a mistake. He wasn’t afraid. All one had to do was remember their home dragonstone to find their way back home. Still, it was disconcerting to hear his mentor admit to being lost.

“Here. If I draw it out, it will make it clearer for me,” D’mitran said.

He pulled his dagger and brushed aside the deep layer of leaves beneath their tree to the dried soil below. He scratched a vertical line. “This is the Black River, running north and south. It’s the boundary between Southern and Singing Waters holds.” He drew a horizontal oval left of the line, and made a dotted line bisecting it horizontally. “This, west of the River, is Lord Toric’s lake. The dotted line is the imaginary boundary of Toric’s hold. North of the line is Southern Hold, south is dragonrider land. If we extend that dotted line alllll the way from the lake east, across the river, it roughly corresponds with the southern edge of the steppe on Lord Dorn’s Hold. That’s what I was following, that imaginary line. But I began to follow the edge of the steppe, unconsciously. It’s gradually dipped farther south of that demarcating line. Now we’re here, on savannah. Which means we’ve overflown Singing Waters and now we’re on dragon lands.”

K’ndar made the scratches turn into a map in his mind.

D’mitran looked at K’ndar, dismay and embarrassment in his eyes.”I’m sorry, K’ndar. I’m not a very good point man.”

“No, D’mitran! There’s no need for apologies, how many times have I goofed up? No. We aren’t lost. We’re just off course. And maybe this is a good thing! These trees are marching north, they’re supplanting the steppe. We were all assuming that the steppe goes clear to the Eastern Range. We depend on the Yokohama too much, I think. No one ever asked her to look this far south, there was never any need.”

“That, and everyone assumed that a boundary must be a straight line,” D’mitran said. He examined the tip of his dagger, more to cover his embarrassment than for any real need. “I dulled the point. Note to self. A dagger is not a pencil.”

K’ndar laughed, doubting the dagger really had been dulled. “Now I understand just how important this survey is, D. If you are right, that we’re far south of Lord Dorn’s boundary, it will make for an interesting conversation with the Council,” he said.

It was D’mitran’s turn to look puzzled.

“I don’t have to tell anyone how possessive Lord Holders are, especially Toric. Northern Holders settled boundaries hundreds of years ago. But Southern is opening up. If the Council were to say that Lord Dorn’s hold goes clear to the Range no matter if it’s steppe or not, don’t think for a moment Lord Toric won’t raise an even bigger stink than yon carcass. He’s always complained that he was cheated by dragonriders.

Even though his boundaries are set in stone, with the lake serving as the southern one, he’s going to howl if it’s decided that Lord Dorn’s Hold is far bigger than expected. He’s going to get pissy.”

“Lord Toric can go jump in that lake of his for all I care. He doesn’t dictate anything but events in his own Hold.” He sighed. “I don’t know why everyone is so afraid of offending Toric. He’s never let an opportunity to offend everyone else pass him by.”

“No kidding. Even though I grew up in Lord Dorn’s Hold, I don’t know how Singing Water’s boundaries were set,” K’ndar said.

“I do, now. Lord Dorn’s paternal grandfather was an Oldtimer. He brought his family forward on his dragon. When the Oldtimers were exiled to Southern, he came with them. Apparently he began scouting for land the moment he arrived.He and a handful of others, young folks, got tired of Toric and struck out on their own. I don’t know why the other Oldtimers didn’t. He flew to the foothills of the Eastern Range and reported it as being steppe. He asked for and was granted Singing Waters Hold with the southern boundary being “the edge of the steppe,” which, at that time, was at the foothills of Eastern Range. Back then, Toric had no idea he had that big lake, so there was no reason to draw a line from the lake eastwards. Remember, this was long before Aivas, long before we had the Yokohama looking down from the stars,” D’mitran said.

“The thing that concerns me is this: once we report our findings, Lord Dorn’s hold boundary may be held strictly to those words “the edge of the steppe”. If you’re right, that the savannah is gobbling up the steppe, Lord Dorn will be losing land, not gaining it.”

K’ndar shook his head, feeling sorry for his former Lord Holder. “Any bets Lord Toric will be delighted to hear that?”

“That’s not a bet, it’s a promise.” D’mitran idly piled the leaves back over the scratches with the flat side of his dagger. “In a way, I’m glad we strayed off our line. We’ve clarified the boundary. That’s what we were sent to do! I’d like to see Lord Dorn approach the Council with our findings and ask for a definitive border. And because he’s a good man, I hope the Council will say, let the original boundary stay-to the base of the Eastern Range, and who cares if it’s not steppe any longer.

If yon geologists are right, there’s more land on the other side of the Range. That should be designated dragonlands, but speaking from a settler’s point of view, there’s nothing out here to encourage establishing a cothold. It’s arid and cold here, I don’t see much even in the way of graze. These trees, though, look stout. They might make for good wood.”

“They get thicker the further south they go, too,” K’ndar said. He picked up several leaves. “It’s like the raptors, and the carcass. Everything here is new to me. I don’t know what these trees are. They’re lovely, even without leaves! Look, there’s a third of a seed pod. And another.”

He cleared away as much of the leaf cover as he could reach from his sitting position. “I don’t see any seeds, though. That tells me something’s eating them. Like the quorls, even birds.”

D’mitran shuffled the leaves. “Here, here’s two full ones here.” He handed one to K’ndar and tried to open his. The seed pod had three spiraling shells about as long as his hand.

“This thing is tougher than it looks. I can’t open it, at least not with my fingers. Oh, wait. You have to twist it against the spiraling cleavages.”

The pod split into three sections. “These seeds, they’re black and shriveled. Odd.” He showed them to K’ndar. K’ndar picked one up and examined it.

“Not being a farmer, and having never seen this pod in my life, I’m going to guess that this pod failed. The seeds died, that’s why the pod didn’t open. A lot of plants are like that-the seed is protected with a heavy shell, like this, until they’re ripe, and then pop! the pod opens and the seeds drop,” he said.

He twisted the pod, realized he was only making it tighter, and reversed the traction. The pod opened with a satisfying snap. Dark red, plump seeds fell into his palm.”This one is a good one, these look to be viable. When I come here tomorrow, I’ll collect a bunch of these seeds and take a core sample from the trees. That will give me an idea of how old they are.”

“Think the seeds are edible?”

K’ndar was skeptical. “I think I’ll have them tested before I try that.”

“Coward.”

“Better a live coward than a dead hero,” he said.

Risal and B’rost approached. “Looks like our geologists have finally decided what’s what,” D’mitran said.

“Well?”

“We’re BOTH right, just I’m righter than Risal,” B’rost said. Risal, just behind him, rolled her eyes skyward. He looked down at K’ndar. “Hey, what’s in your hand?”

K’ndar showed him the seeds he’d removed from the pod.

“These seeds, they’re from these trees.”

“They’re pretty. Are they good to eat?”

“I don’t know.”

B’rost grabbed two of the seeds and popped them in his mouth.

“B’rost! What are you doing?” K’ndar gasped

“Chewing,” B’rost said, around his mouthful.

“You have no idea if they’re edible or not!”

“They taste like…” suddenly B’rost staggered, grabbing his throat and gurgling.

Risal shouted in horror and grabbed him.

“B’rost! Spit it out! Spit it out!”

B’rost dropped his hands and smirked.

“Gotcha,” he said, laughing. “They’re good.”

She pummeled him.