Author: Kirk Straughen
Synopsis: Talos, a young adventurer on an alien world, has embarked upon a quest for the the rare and dangerous serpent-flower. But a violent storm blows him into uncharted waters and deadly peril. What strange threats will he have to face? Only by reading this exotic tale will you know.
Edit history: Minor changes were made to this story on 5 June 2021
Talos’s sethen was tiring rapidly. The young adventurer and his aerial steed had barely survived the violent storm that had blown them far off course. The huge creature he was riding – a beast resembling a pterosaur from the Cretaceous era, but with giant hind legs like those of a grasshopper that it used to launch itself skyward – was exhausted from battling the tempest’s cyclonic winds. If he didn’t land soon Talos knew Darza, his sethen, would plummet like a stone and that would be certain death for both.
For many ten-days he had searched in vain among the Opal Isles for the kathasis, or serpent-flower, from which amberos, that wondrous panacea, could be distilled. Xuna, his queen, had promised him the silver star of nobility should he succeed, for her son, Prince Loisis, had been reduced to an invalid by the Purple Fever, and only a draft compounded from the leaves of the rare serpent-flower would restore his youthful vitality.
Lothor, Talos's father, was physician to the royal court and the young man his apprentice. Lothor had wanted to undertaken this journey as he was also a master herbalist, but the queen had forbidden it. She wanted the healer by her son's bedside should his condition worsen. In addition the journey was not without its hazards, and all were loathe to risk the life of such a master. And so it was that Talos had volunteered for the mission in his father's place.
The young man looked down, searching anxiously for land. Far below him, stretching from horizon to horizon lay the Topaz Sea in an unbroken glittering expanse. The water teemed with fantastic alien life. A huge head mounted on a prodigious neck broke the surface. It was a monstrous zathru. For a brief moment yellow reptilian eyes gazed malevolently at the rider and his mount. The thing vented a warning hiss from its envenomed jaws, then the massive body, armoured in thick scales of gold and crimson, plunged deeply beneath the waves and was lost from sight.
Shifting his gaze, Talos saw that an immense school of cema shoaled at a distance of several haddu to the north east. The emerald crustaceans - as long as a man’s arm and resembling armoured squid - were being fed upon by ishfan. These flying serpentine creatures, banded in black and vivid yellow, circled above their quarry in a cloud of glittering dragonfly-like wings, then dropped from the sky like dive bombers to snatch their prey with whip-like claw armed tails.
Talos ignored these outlandish creatures for they were as mundane to him as is the fauna of Earth to us. Instead, he desperately scanned the dancing waves for signs of land, for with every passing minute his exhausted sethen dropped lower and lower towards the watery waste where monstrous shadowy forms glided with deceptive calm beneath the twinkling sea.
The young man squinted against the glare of Avu - the planet Ophon’s sun. Was that land he dimly saw? He urged his tiring, sinking mount towards the blurry speck, hopeful, yet afraid to hope. Long minutes passed as the faltering sethen drew closer, nearer. Joy swelled in Talos’ breast as the dim shape resolved itself into an object clad in a dense forest of tropic verdure.
The thing he beheld, though as large as an island wasn’t land: it was a coya – one of a number of huge plant-like growths that flourished in the shallow Topaz Sea, often forming forests of considerable extent. The coya resembled an enormous spongy flat topped mushroom, lapis lazuli in hue, with a multitude of buttressing trunks beneath its titanic cap. Talos knew these immense organisms, which mineralized themselves for strength, could live for thousands of years, and that it wasn’t uncommon for their flat caps to be covered in dense symbiotic jungle which had sprouted from windblown seeds.
They were near the coya and very low when a titan form burst from the waves directly in their path. The zathru towered skyward. The jaws of its monstrous head gaped wide. Talos was gripped by icy fear as he gazed with horror into the crimson cave of its enormous fang rimmed maw. He jerked his flying mount aside. The zathru’s jaws clashed shut like a massive beartrap, missing man and mount by a frightful margin that left its rider shaken and breathless.
The panting sethen winged onward. It barely made the coya’s tree edged rim. The creature landed heavily. It collapsed upon the loamy surface, flanks heaving in utter exhaustion, muscles trembling from its prodigious effort.
Talos slid from the saddle and patted his aerial steed’s furry head of speckled white and azure hair. Large golden eyes regarded him with dog-like affection. The beast uttered a warbling cry of contentment as the young man scratched a spot behind its pointed ear.
“Good Darza,” he complimented. “Magnificent flying my faithful friend; by all the gods, it’s a joy to feel solid earth again. We’ll rest here a while, then resume our search.”
Talos looked about as he relaxed by his mount. The forest formed a seemingly impenetrable barrier. Towering trees spiralled high into the steamy air like immense corkscrews, their black trunks, rope-like in texture, a dark contrast to leaves of living opal. Giant blooms of vivid ruby, silver and gold formed bright starbursts of colour in the dense undergrowth. A gentle breeze wafted their heady perfume to the watching man.
Shifting his gaze, Talos saw a plume of smoke billowing into the air further along the coya’s rim, which was not as densely forested as the mysterious interior. The dark cloud was too large to have been caused by a camp fire, and the jungle was still wet from the drenching downpour of the storm, so it couldn’t be a forest blaze, either. Curiosity piqued, he decided to investigate, but first he led his sethen, now somewhat recovered from its exhausting flight of many hours, beneath a soaring mamoma tree where it could feast on the growth’s fallen nuts.
Tethering his beast to the gnarled trunk, he left it to munch on the enormous pear-shaped candy striped viands, and proceeded towards the enigmatic cloud of smoke. Shortly, he arrived at a scene of blackened devastation. A charred oval shape, huge in size, lay upon the steaming earth, its ornate tail section the only part that had escaped the ferocious blaze.
Talos recognized the wreckage at once – it was the remains of an Anaxan airship. The lighter than air vessel must have been forced down by the raging storm, its gas cells rupturing on impact and exploding – ignited by a lightning bolt, perhaps, or so he speculated. The heavy downpour hadn’t been able to extinguish the raging fire - fed by highly flammable gas and fuel - before it had consumed most of the ship’s skeleton of bamboo-like timber and covering skin of lacquered cloth.
He saw the remains of its primitive steam engines – hollow cylinders with oppositely bent nozzles that were enclosed in a larger stationary cylinder. Steam from an oil fired boiler was fed into the cylinders, which rotated on their axis when the pressurized vapour jetted from the nozzles and spun a propeller affixed to the end of each cylinder. The steam then condensed in the larger enclosing cylinder and was fed back to the boiler.
Passing on he began the grim search for survivors among the wreckage, for though Anaxa and Poamon, his own nation, were not on friendly terms due to mercantile rivalry, he could not in all good conscious refuse succour to any survivors of the crash. But all that greeted his questing gaze was the sickening sight of corpses charred beyond any hope of recognition.
Then, as he grimly made his way towards the tail section of the airship a series of depressions in the soil caught his watchful eye. He ran forward eagerly to investigate – they were staggering footprints that led into the riotous, brooding forest.
Talos set out in swift pursuit of the lone survivor. He plunged into the tangled undergrowth, his bushcraft quickly identifying the path the fellow had taken. He paused for a moment where the unknown person had rested, then set off again. Whoever it was, no doubt fleeing from the horrific sight at the wreck, appeared to be limping and couldn’t have gotten far.
A sudden scream exploded in the shadowed silence. The frightened cry spurred Talos onward. He burst through a tangle of vegetation and saw a sight that nearly stopped his heart with dread. A young woman had her back against a tree and confronting her were horrors spawned from dark nightmare.
Six negu faced the girl in a confining arc. Each creature resembled a tarantula the size of a fox terrier. Their bodies were covered in black hedgehog-like spines. Their beaks, resembling those of hawks, clattered like demonic castanets. Poisonous saliva drooled viscously from their hooked maws.
Talos whipped out his throwing knife. A creature leapt. The girl screamed as the young man hurled his heavy blade with terrific force. Hard steel struck with a meaty thunk. The thing collapsed, its many legs madly writhing in the agony of death. Then Talos snapped out his telescopic spear and fell upon the monsters, killing two in a rush of stabbing fury.
Instantly, he became the focus of the horrors. One negu darted for Talos’s calf, dripping beak menacingly agape. The youth slammed his bootheel in its face. It staggered back, dying, head crushed by the wild blow. Another flew at him. He leapt over it, stabbed the thing as it scuttled beneath him. Landing like a cat he spun about and skewered another charging monster.
Then disaster struck – Talos tripped on a root, fell and hit his head upon the ground. The sole surviving negu eagerly rushed the stunned man, its clashing envenomed beak hungering for his flesh. Talos desperately fumbled for his spear. The creature leapt before he could grasp the weapon. He rolled clear of its plunging form. The horror struck the earth where he had lain. Talos jerked out his second blade. He stabbed with desperate viciousness. The thing hissed in agony as razor steel deeply bit.
The young man leapt clear of the negu’s nauseous, twitching form in which his blade was still embedded. He looked at the creature, warily watching its death throes until it stilled. Satisfied that it had expired he turned his attention to the girl. For a moment each looked at the other: the girl with wariness for although Hyaja was not ungrateful for the young man’s dramatic intervention, her admiration was somewhat grudging considering that she’d been rescued by a Poamonite – a fact made known to her by his black attire of leather vest with ornate silver clasps, his trousers tucked into knee high boots with silver buckles, and also the silver studded vambraces that he wore.
Talos for his part held no such prejudices. Before him he saw a young woman whose beauty transcended petty concepts of nationality. Her heart-shaped face was an artful study of graceful lines, of arching brows and curving lips. Her waist long hair was a glossy tumble of raven curls; her skin of umber colouration. Her garment was rather daring by the conservative mores of Poamon. It was a gauzy bit of rose material wrapped about her body - a sheer knee-length piece of fabric whose translucency did little to conceal what lay beneath.
Hyaja flushed as she saw his dark eyes admiringly trace the curvaceous lines of her youthful figure. Never before had she been so self-conscious, for in Anaxa her mode of dress was quite normal and attracted no undue attention. The girl grew frightened. Her people had a low opinion of Poamonites – did this uncouth, lustful barbarian mean to rape her?
Fear’s dark arrow shot through her as she gazed at his handsome face, his powerful physique. An untamed vision burst within her mind of what might happen. Her heart beat wildly, her knees grew weak. A strange thrill came upon her – a thrill shocking in its implications. Fierce anger flared within her breast. In denial she leapt forward, jerked the knife from the negu’s carcass to defend her honour.
But the effort cost her dear – Hyaja’s ankle, injured in the crash, sent a shaft of fiery pain racing through her. The girl gasped in agony, collapsed to the earth. Talos was by her side in an instant. There was a brief struggle as he grappled with the girl when she tried to knife him.
“Peace,” cried Talos in Azai, the common tongue of the Chouvan continent as he pinioned her wrists in a powerful grip. “I want to help you, not harm you in any way.”
Hyaja looked upon his face and now saw concern, not lust as she had anticipated. She relaxed a little, but not too much. She was still wary of this muscular barbarian. Talos, sensing her apprehension, gave her a wry smile. He well knew the low esteem in which the Anaxans held his people. It was a pity – she was beautiful, desirable; but there was a gulf between them - that of prejudice and also her noble birth as indicated by the many golden ornaments that adorned her; an unnecessary enhancement to her natural beauty, or so he thought.
“You may keep my knife if you promise not to stab me,” he said in a reassuring voice. “As a physician's apprentice I have some knowledge of medicine. May I examine your injured ankle, and any other hurt that you have?”
The girl bit her lip in consternation. Anaxans may have dressed immodestly by the standards of other nations, but that didn’t mean they had no concept of probity – it was considered most immoral for a high born woman to allow herself to be touched in any way by a stranger unless they underwent the Ceremony of Purification, which a husband, close relative or priest must perform.
Hyaja, by her standards, was in a difficult position. She was unmarried. Her father and her relatives had died in the crash. She was alone, injured and stranded in a savage wilderness far from home. Grief tore at her with the awful recollection of all these dreadful facts. She fought back choking tears, knowing she had no choice, sinful though it was. The girl simply nodded in wordless assent.
Talos examined her injuries, which fortunately proved to be superficial. He strapped her ankle with heavy bandages from the first aid kit attached to his belt of silver discs, and as he worked introduced himself to Hyaja and explained the nature of his quest.
“And of yourself,” he asked, curiously. “Your airship was forced down by the storm, no doubt. But what were you doing in these uncharted waters, so far from your native land? It strikes me as strange that a noble lady would care to accompany what appears to have been a scientific expedition staffed by dusty greybeards.”
Hyaja, already disturbed by his gentle touch, grew wrath: “You think me frivolous and uneducated, then,” she snapped, her features aflame with heated animation.
“On the contrary, I think you’re wonderful,” he replied with disarming directness.
The girl, still annoyed, haughtily tossed her head in harsh dismissal of his praise. But when she saw the hurt look upon his face she realized his compliment had been sincere and not mere mockery. The young man had come to her aid at considerable risk to his life, and she was rewarding his chivalry with rudeness and ingratitude. Who was it then that was the barbarian?
“I... I’m sorry,” she apologized. “That was uncivil of me. Why, I haven’t even thanked you for coming to my aid, which I now do unreservedly.”
The girl sighed. There was no reason why he shouldn’t know the truth, humiliating and tragic though it was. She was alone and friendless, and she found a sudden need to unburden herself to what she sensed would be a sympathetic ear.
“This was no scientific expedition. My father, Lord Biddu, was chief minister to our king, Urid,” she began. “Father was a scrupulously honest man, fearless in giving advice. Unfortunately, he angered the king by voicing his unflattering opinion of a clique of sycophantic courtiers who had gained favour in the eyes of His Majesty. The courtiers, in revenge, spread false rumours that my father plotted against our king, and His majesty believed these baseless accusations. As a result our family were condemned to exile; with the threat of death should we ever again set foot upon our native soil. As I’m sure you can imagine the severity of this harsh collective punishment was shocking to us all.
“We sought asylum in the surrounding nations – Yavis, Orad, Koom ... But were turned away by their rulers who were prejudiced towards us due to Urid’s abrasive foreign policies. In desperation my father set a course across the Topaz Sea, hoping to find refuge with a people who knew nothing of our undiplomatic king. The storm struck, our airship crashed; all aboard were killed but me.”
Hyaja’s full lips trembled with the awful remembrance of the tragedy. No longer able to restrain her pent up emotions she buried her face in her hands, flung herself upon the soil, sobbing uncontrollably. Bitter tears flowed in mournful streams down her cheeks. Talos, moved by the girl’s doleful plight, placed his comforting arms about her. Hyaja didn't pull away. In her desperation she felt the overwhelming need for the comfort that a gentle hand can bring, and thus absorbed each was unaware of the menace creeping up upon them until it was too late.
The first sign of danger that alerted Talos to imminent peril was a sickly sweet perfume that assailed him with its intoxicating scent. Quickly, he turned and gasped in shock at the unexpected sight of the weird creature that stood so dangerously near.
The thing looked like a giant thorny vine along whose upper surface sprouted a mass of serrated crimson leaves and many thick prehensile tendrils, some tipped with yellow flowers resembling giant snapdragons, others with scintillating compound eyes. The bizarre thing inched forward on a multitude of leg-like roots, tendrils writhing, nightmare blooms swaying with all the sinisterness of half a dozen cobras.
Instantly Talos recognised the thing – it was a kathasis – the dread serpent-flower of the tropic jungles, and now the hunter had become the prey. A wave of disorienting dizziness hit him – the kathasis’ soporific scent was exerting its fell chemistry, and in but moments he and the girl would be incapacitated. Then, when slumber had coiled about them in immobilizing unconsciousness, the creature’s feeding tendrils would fasten upon their flesh, and the monster would commence its gruesome vampirish feast.
Talos grasped his spear, shot through by the horror of such an awful fate. “Run,” he urged the girl.
But the warning was too late. Hyaja looked at him with a dreamy, uncomprehending expression. Her body lay in languid repose. Her eyelids drooped – a presage to his coming fate. Talos swore. Now he, too, felt creeping lethargy come upon him. Fear for the helpless girl fanned the embers of his fading strength. He struggled to his knees, lurched erect. The supreme effort made him reel. Sickening vertigo assailed him. The world spun. The kathasis’ sinister blooms swayed hypnotically. Only seconds of consciousness remained. With a wild desperate cry he flung himself at the monster, spear extended for the killing thrust.
It was the last clear memory that he had.
**********
Talos regained consciousness. He was sprawled face down upon the earth. For a moment he lay in a daze; then grim recollection jerked him to frantic activity. He staggered up and looked wildly about. He was alone. Snatching up his spear he saw that its tip was stained with greenish sap – the strange blood of the kathasis.
He had wounded the serpent-flower, but not so badly that it couldn’t carry off the helpless girl, no doubt choosing her as the least dangerous of its victims. How long had he lain here unconscious? Was she still alive? Fear knifed him, spurred him to swift action. A quick search revealed the spoor of the vegetable vampire. He set out in swift pursuit.
Talos tracked the kathasis with grim determination. He knew the creature's habits. It would return to its lair – a kind of bower made from sticks where its young were germinated – before feasting upon the helpless girl. But how distant was he from its den? He paused and touched another drop of sappy blood. The vile gore was fresh. Hope soared within him – he was gaining on the monster.
He now proceeded with a tightrope balance of speed and caution – the thing had only rudimentary vision, but its heat and vibration sensing organs were acute. The undergrowth was so dense it obscured his vision, and if he wasn’t careful the serpent-flower would be aware of his approach well before he saw it.
Horrifying visions of the monster feeding on the girl assailed him. With an effort he threw them off and fought down his rising panic. Wiping the sweat from his brow he pressed onward.
Minutes passed in agonizing slowness, but his patience was at last rewarded – he peered through a verdurous tangle and beheld a frightful scene: Hyaja lay upon the earth in the middle of a bower – an arch of branches around which young serpent-flowers twined in viny growths, but it was not this sight that held the young man’s horrified gaze.
The kathasis loomed above the helpless girl. Its feeding tendrils roamed across her nubile form, tearing at her flimsy garment in preparation for its bloody feast. Talos uttered a silent curse - gorging thorny vines were crawling about her naked breasts. The sight of Hyaja’s plight fired him with with hot rage. He took a deep breath, held it; charged.
The monster sensed his wild rush. Its barbed tendrils lashed out like cracking whips. Talos ducked, lunged. The savage vines snapped above his head as his spear plunged within the thing. The serpent-flower shuddered. It was badly wounded but far from incapacitated: Its blooms puffed clouds of soporific scent with all the abandon of a tasteless strumpet.
Talos, even though he held his breath, reeled as his skin absorbed some of the all pervading fumes. Thorny tendrils coiled agonizingly about his body. He fought off the pain, stabbed furiously, seeking the neural centre of the creature. The world spun in a dizzy eddy. His lungs burned from lack of breath he dare not take. Talos felt sickening weakness come upon him, his vision cloud. He thrust his spear deep into the creature with the dregs of strength, leaning into the blow with all his body weight.
A spasm wracked the kathasis. The tendrils slackened. Talos jerked away, staggered back, gasping. His knees buckled and he collapsed as the serpent-flower fell in a twitching heap across the girl. With a mighty effort the young man lurched giddily to his feet. Wild fear propelled him towards Hyaja. Somehow, he found the strength to resist the soporific perfume and drag her clear of the dying monster’s narcotic exudations.
The girl was pale, but her pulse and breathing were normal to Talos’ vast relief. In a few moments he had sufficiently recovered to dress her injuries and arrange her torn garments about her as best he could. Now, all he could do was wait for the return of vibrant consciousness.
Minutes passed in an agony of slowness for the anxious man, but at last the girl’s eyes opened in gradual awakening. Talos bent over her, his face a study of apprehension, for the perfume of the serpent-flower could sometimes leave its victims drooling idiots.
“Hyaja, can you hear me? Can you understand me?”
Fear gripped Talos with an iron hand when he gazed upon the girl’s blank visage – the thought of such vivacious beauty being reduced to a witless shell was more than he could bear. He was on the verge of weeping bitter tears when he saw the glimmerings of intelligence animate her slack expression.
“Talos”, she murmured weakly; “what happened?”
In a wild rush he told her all that had transpired, and ended in a breathless tumble of emotion: “I’ll say a thousand prayers of thanks to the gods of the Golden Temple that you’re alive and well.”
The girl smiled. “Your words ride on a torrent of unbridled sentiment,” she observed.
“You mock me,” he replied, angry at what seemed a deriding response to his heartfelt feelings.
“Not at all,” she quickly corrected, placing a soothing hand upon his arm. “It’s just that I’ve always thought of Poamonites as being ... well, a somewhat dour people not given to ardently expressing their emotions.”
“You inspire me to passion,” he admitted, somewhat mollified.
“So I see,” replied Hyaja. “But we hardly know each other.”
“You can’t stay here,” he pointed out with passion. “Come with me to Poamon," he boldly urged; "if not as my lover than as my friend. Either way my family will welcome you do I."
“I’ll come as your friend,” replied the girl after a thoughtful moment. “And as time passes I may be more to you than that.”
Talos smiled, for in his heart he felt certain that she would. His prediction proved to be correct.
THE END