Report -- Day 6

[jack]

The saurians came upon us on the third day as we passed the stone pillar. Whatever the extensive changes to their social structures and empathy, Johnson observed they seem capable of working together to the detriment of non-saurians.

The pillar rises into the sky like a vast finger, a mystery even to the professor, but it seemed an unspoken inevitability that we would pass near it, and the spell was only broken as we passed through the shadow.

A horde or saurians rushed from dead ground behind the pillar. J. Clive cried to us to run, and we urged the stegia into that steady gallop that is not the most quick, but can be kept up for days. Momentarily united, the horde flowed toward us, the carnivores the froth on the wave. A few gangling ostrich-analogues led the pack, long legs spinning wildly, but the ever-present raptors surged around them, and a Terrible King thundered along in the middle of the pack.

Whoever had directed our entrapment seemed to have overridden the natural instincts, for again, the dinosaurs seemed to have relied on us walking blindly into their maws, rather than risking being spotted by hiding to our flanks. The rush came from one direction, and with our stegia's best effort, we were carried clear of the initial rush, and settled down to the long chase.

Stegia run fast down-hill and through brush, and many times we ran the pursuers into the distance, although the Tee King seemed to love it as much as they did. But when the vegetation thickened, or we were forced to mount some of the height we'd lost again, the smaller saurians began to close again.

Always, a couple of pterodactyls circled like cold-blooded lizards overhead, guiding the rest to us, but never came close themselves.

It is possible to sleep on a charging stegion if it's a choice between that and falling off and dying. We took turns trying to doze, tied in place, when we had sufficient lead. But I couldn't write anything legible in these pages.

On the third day, we reached the river we'd seen flowing into the valley. The professor had urged caution, but that it was our best chance. When we reached it, we urged the stegia fearlessly into the water, but made sure to stay high out of it ourselves.

A sickly green light glowed around their flanks and limbs as they moved in the water. I strained to see if there were any piscene predators, but saw nothing underneath the unhealthy glow. The stegia snorted nervously, and made to baulk, but Clive and I petted them and urged them through, and they swam boldly on.

We praised our maker that they seemed largely unaffected. Their impervious hide, in addition to their friendly temperament, ability to learn, long stride, and defensive fortification, was one of the reasons we'd selected them as our mounts, and they seemed to have served faithfully.

I admit, I was the least learned of the party and had not followed the professor's reasoning in the least. But seeing the reaction our mounts had caused in the river, I was not inclined to doubt her further, neither that we were best to exercise extreme caution in fording the river, and certainly not to enter or drink from it, nor that it might yet prove the most effective barrier to our pursuers.

On the other side, she dismounted, and produced another of her captive birds. She dipped it carefully in the water, and it seemed unharmed, but then struggled from her frantic grip and flew at her. She ducked aside and I rushed forward, but before I could try to knock the bird from the air it dived at her, but lost cohesion, and splatted, a smear of indescribable gloop on the ground.

We regarded it silently, several of us moved to make gestures pursuant to whatever religions we'd originally been raised in. Whatever the nature of the valley, it interacted with and was fed from the nature of the water.

Shortly Clive said we should not waste more time, but put as much distance from the river as we could before the committed saurians behind us reached it, in case they were better inspired or able to cross than we imagined. Probably some of the larger herbivores would be able to shrug off the water as our stegia had been, and if there was time, one of the most vast aquatic saurians might be summoned and simply lie down to dam the river and allow the others to cross.

It seemed unlikely; there was no shortage of dinosaurs in rest of the valley. But we all agreed we wanted to distance ourselves if we could. Later that day, at a comfortable remove, we paused and Johnson wordlessly offered me her telescope.

I trained it back on the river. The mixed herd of dinosaurs was milling on the far side, and a few urging the others toward the waters. Finally the King himself (which is how we styled any tyrannosaurus rex) broached the water.

It was deep, he waded thigh-deep in it, and the others paused, a few of the bolder gangly ones, and armoured tanks splashing in the shallows. But then a mist formed around the water, and I saw it was made of steam rising from the King's legs, and then he tottered, and fell majestically full length into the river.

There was a brief shower of gore as vast gobbets of meat flew from his decaying legs, and a boiling in the water, and then only a flash of colour in the air as his spirit flew free.

I mouthed a prayer; whatever happened, it was something tragic and for a moment, momentous. But I didn't describe it to the others, except to say I did not think they would cross soon, and we should move on while we could, but rest as soon as we were gone from sight of the fatal crossing.

The two pterodactyl still followed, high above, calling keening mourning cries accusingly across the air, and the Catholics crossed themselves.