Niven,Larry - The Dragons of Heoror

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Campfire

'Once upon a long, long time ago, our parents and grand-

parents left a place called Earth. They travelled across the

stars in a ship called Geographic to find paradise. But

their paradise turned into a living hell.. .'

The campfire jetted white flame as it reached a gum

pocket in the horsemane log. The flame held for almost a

minute, then died back to glowing coals. A cast-iron skillet

balanced on firestones sizzled in the embers. A sudden gust

momentarily sent sparks toward the misty night sky and

the stars frozen overhead.

A dozen wide-eyed youngsters were packed shoulder-

tight on makeshift seats of logs and stones, huddled

expectantly in the dying firelight. They had waited all

their lives for this night.

Justin Faulkner's voice growled, caressed, leapt, burned

hotter than the ebbing flames. 'From the stars they came,'

he stage-whispered, 'seeking to build homes where no

human had ever walked. Avalon was a land untamed,

stretching beneath a sky strange to human eyes. A para-

dise for the taking. These men and women were the best,

the smartest and the bravest Earth could offer, two hun-

dred chosen from eight billion people. Our parents. They

are the Earth Born. But they didn't know the truth about

their new world, a truth that you -' his long, sensitive

fingers, sculptor's fingers, bunched and stabbed as if each

and every child was guilty of unspeakable crimes - 'you

Star Born, have never been told . . . until now. Until this

week. Until tonight.'

Justin's voice carried the authority and infinite wisdom

of all his nineteen years. None of the children was older

than thirteen. Now they were youngsters, Grendel Biters.

Tonight would be their first step toward becoming

Grendel Scouts. At dawn they had left the human settle-

ment called Camelot and hiked across the plain, along

the Miskatonic River, then up Mucking Great Mountain

along the minor tributary called the Amazon. Lunch and

dinner had been little more than stream water.

Their curious and eager shining eyes were black and

brown and blue and jade, carrying genetic gifts from every

people of Earth. Their limber young bodies were as perfect

as the night stars, their minds filled with dreams more

incandescent still. These were the exhausted young inher-

itors of a world new to Man.

'... the rivers were filled with a fish they called samlon.

And they caught the fish, and ate the fish . . .' Justin

slipped a knife from his belt sheath. He poked its point

about in the smoking pan, skewering a morsel of sizzling

meat. He held it up, worrying the ragged, black-burnt

chunk of flesh with his teeth. Then he passed both pan

and knife to his right, to a ten-year-old girl with blonde

shoulder-length hair.

She bit gingerly at first, then harder to tear a piece

loose. The texture resembled tough beef, not at all like

fish. She chewed - and the meat bit back. She clawed at

her throat, gasping, but managed to pass both pan and

knife to her right. A boy dark-skinned as the surrounding

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night made a choking sound and whispered, 'Water . . .'

Their eyes misted. Some struggled with wretched

coughs, but no one moved. The pan circled the campfire

until there was nothing left but smoking iron.

'But one night the river which gave life to the colony

brought death. Even now, even here, high up on Mucking

Great, if the wind is very quiet, on a night like tonight,

you can hear old Misk calling . . .'

Justin trailed off. With superbly theatrical timing, the

wind dwindled to a murmur. There in the distance roared

the mighty Miskatonic, rushing past the foot of Mucking

Great... or was that only the Amazon?

'The samlon developed legs, and teeth, and a taste for

human blood. They became . . . grendels. They clawed

their way from the river, gasped air and found it good.

They moved so fast that other animals looked like statues

to them. They slaughtered everything they saw. Our par-

ents fought back, but it was no use. The camp was lost.

Cadmann Weyland led the survivors here to his strong-

hold on Mucking Great, where they made their last stand.

'And there' - Justin's thin finger cast an unsteady

shadow toward the irregular chunk of stone called

Snailhead Rock - 'that was where my father died, torn to

pieces by the ravening horde. And there on the verandah

is where Phyllis McAndrews was killed, still screaming

reports to the orbiting crew of Geographic. And there -'

Justin was lost in the story now, beginning to hyperventi-

late - 'others were caught, torn apart and devoured by

frenzied grendels moving faster than eyes could see. Down

there by the cliff edge ' - the dark hid it - 'two men waited

in a wrecked skeeter while grendels battered the walls in

with their heads. And there was where Joe Sikes sent a

river of fire flowing down, finally killing the grendels, saving

every human life-'

Pause. The wind had picked up. When it lulled there

remained no sound save the rushing waters.

'That was all a long, long time ago. But sometimes on a

night like tonight, if you press your ear to the ground, you

can still hear the screams of the dying, as teeth tear their

flesh open and devour their vitals. And you can thank the

spirits of the dead that there is no longer anything to fear.

'No more monsters, no more grendels . . .' Justin

paused for effect. 'But if there are spirits of men, who can

say that there are not spirits of monsters as well?'

His audience's young eyes were wide, and still. Their

chests hardly moved as they struggled to keep control.

The dogs were tethered well away from the campsite, and

now, sensing the children's fear, they began to growl and

strain at their leashes.

'Some say that the spirits of the dead war nightly, up

here on Mucking Great Mountain. Our dead parents and

grandparents pit rifle and spear and knife against fang

and claw and speed, night after bloody night. They don't

want to - but they must. Because if they lose, just once ...

just once .. .'

He narrowed his eyes fiercely. 'The grendels will claw

through the portal which separates life from death, and

return to ravage Avalon again. And not just Avalon.

They'll go across the stars as we crossed between stars,

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back to Earth . . .'

A light dew of sweat dampened his forehead. His voice

dropped to a hoarse whisper. 'What was that? Was that a

scream? It sounded almost like a scream, a human scream.

The scream of a soul already dead, but dying yet again. A

soul now cast into some deeper, more terrible pit. And is

that another? And another-?'

The boys and girls strove to still their breathing and

quiet their heartbeats, attempting to capture every word.

'But if the ghosts of the humans are dying once again

then-'

There was a terrible shriek, and from beyond the ring

of firelight lurched a woman soaked in blood. She stag-

gered, one hand held piteously to her cheek. One eye was

clotted with gore and the other was insanely wide, as if

witness to all the terrors of hell.

After her, in a blur, came something inhuman.

Ten feet of hissing reptile bounded into the firelight;

splay-clawed, barb-tailed, eyes dead to gentleness or love,

merciless as glass.

It smashed her to the ground, perched atop her and

howled-!

The children scrambled in all directions, screaming,

crying-Then silence, save for the crackle of the fire. The

girl's bloody body lay still upon the ground, grendel

perched above, triumphant-

And then she sat up, sputtering with mirth. 'Justin

Faulkner, you are an utter bastard!'

'It's the company I keep, Jessie.' He grinned like a

shark. 'All right, round 'em up!'

The 'grendel' sat up and a stocky, muscular Japanese

boy of about seventeen Earth years climbed out of its hol-

low belly. His face was darkened with charcoal and he

was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Jessica

slapped him on the back. 'You should make some little

tiny buildings and some miniature artillery and do a giant

monster movie, Toshiro.'

'Godzilla versus a hundred-metre grendel?' He

shrugged out of the grendel skin. 'You know, if we hadn't

had to rebuild Tokyo every six months, Japan would have

ruled all of Earth.'

From all around them, just beyond the reach of the

firelight, larger human figures returned, shepherding

their younger siblings back to the firelight.

'Come on back!' they roared. 'Sissies!'

Shy, embarrassed, the stragglers returned in ones and

twos. They protested loudly but hid grins behind small

hands, and wrung crocodile tears from laughing eyes.

Tentatively, then with growing enthusiasm they exam-

ined the hollow grendel carcase, its thick forelegs and

wide jaws, its stubby spiked tail. They ran their small fin-

gers along its scales, each imagining that it was his father,

her grandmother, who slew the dragon.

Justin took his place at the centre by the fire, and this

time spoke in a normal voice. 'All right, it was a joke. Not a

pointless one. We want you scared. Grendels are dan-

gerous. The Earth Born killed all the grendels here on this

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island. As children you've been safe here all your lives.

Now it's time to learn about your world, all of it, not just

this island. We are the Star Born. This world is ours.

'You've seen a dead grendel. Now you're growing up,

and pretty soon you'll go to the mainland and see live

grendels. And more. It's time to learn what happened to

those two hundred, Earth's best and brightest, each of

those Earth Born chosen from among more people than

there are stars in our skies.

'Up to now you've lived by Earth Born rules. Now it's

time for you to learn why they make rules, and why we

live by them.

'Time to go to the mainland, time to learn why the

Earth Born act so strange, and - time to learn what eats

grendels. Now off to sleep. '

The children reluctantly headed toward sleeping bags

and bed rolls. A few of the candidates tried to ask ques-

tions, but the Grendel Scouts wouldn't answer. 'Bedtime.

You'll learn, but not tonight. '

'Why not tonight?'

'You'll learn it all. Now scoot!'

'Can Rascal sleep in my bed tonight?'

'Sure, your dog can sleep with you. '

The children tumbled off to bed, pleasantly tired,

utterly ready for sleep.

Jessica winced as Justin wiped the slaughterhouse blood

from her face. 'Yerch. Tomato juice would have been just

as good. '

'Such a thought offends my creative soul. '

'I did like the wasabe in the beef heart, Toshiro. Nice

little touch. You didn't do that last year. '

'Musashi said to "pay attention even to link things". '

Toshiro stretched until his back crackled, and poked his

bare feet close to the embers.

'I thought it went well, ' Jessica said. 'Just the right bal-

ance. Justin, you brought Sharon McAndrews. She's not

twelve yet. '

'She's bright, she's curious and she's been asking

questions about her mother, ' Justin said. 'We have to tell

her. '

'Zack isn't going to like it. '

'Freeze 'im. '

'We have agreed to the rules, ' Toshiro said. 'We don't

interfere until the Grendel Biters are twelve-'

'Wouldn't work, ' Justin said. 'Either we tell Sharon

now or in a year she'll tease the whole damn' story out of

Cassandra, and then she'll tell the rest of the Grendel

Biters. No preparation, just bang!, they know. This isn't

the last time this is going to come up, either. Sharon won't

be the only one to ask the right questions. ' He grinned.

'And what's Zack going to do to me?'

'The Earth Born aren't always wrong, ' Toshiro said.

His forefinger traced the scar on Jessica's neck. It was

years old, almost faded, and most of it was hidden under

her hair; but it trailed down her neck to her left shoulder.

She snatched his hand and kept it.

9

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'I'd be more interested in what dad thinks, ' Jessica said.

'How does Coleen feel about this?'

'She thinks she can't go on fooling her little sister much

longer, ' Justin said. 'And I agree. You know their mother. '

Toshiro nodded gravely. 'Oh, well. Here, I brought

some real food. '

They moved closer to the fire to roast chunks of turkey

breast over the dying coals and they sat talking and laughing

of small or important things: the season's fish yield;

skiing on the southern peaks; a review of the previous

week's hysterical debate between Aaron Tragon and

Hendrick Sills (postulated: Adam Smith's The Wealth of

Nations was actually a misinterpreted satirical essay);

modifications in the huge dirigible, Robor; the odds on

next month's surf-off. The conversation went on for

hours, until the laughter finally died down and yawning

took its place.

They were the Star Born. Their electronic servants

could bring them all of mankind's knowledge: history,

science, drama, the great literature of a dozen cultures

and a hundred soap operas; but they lived in a primitive

paradise, utterly safe, inoculated against every disease.

There was more than enough to eat, meaningful work to

do and few dangers. They were a strong, clean-limbed

clan. Their parents had been chosen after tests that made

the old astronaut selection procedures look like child's

play. Physically perfect and bright-eyed, they radiated the

kind of relaxed familiarity that only those raised in an

insular community can ever really know.

There were a few minutes of intense quiet, during

which eyes met across the ember light, and nods preceded

gentle touches of offer and acceptance. Two at a time they

linked arms and drifted off into the shadows.

And then at last there were only four left: Jessica,

Justin, Toshiro, and a young redhead named Gloria.

'Success?' Jessica yawned, a question which was not a

question.

'Success, ' Justin agreed. Another round of chuckles.

'Now it's time for the chicken run, ' Jessica said.

Toshiro yawned as well. 'Ruth still wants to try it. '

Justin and Jessica locked gazes, and both laughed

simultaneously. 'Ruth?' Justin said incredulously. Then

both said at the same time, in the same little-girl sing-

song: 'But what will daddy say?'

They broke up again, the laughter finally subsiding to

hiccups. "Pon my word, ' Justin said finally, Zack ruined

that child. '

'She's asked to become a Grendel Scout, ' Gloria said,

'and wants to know why we won't let her in. '

The others shook their heads in unison. 'No mainland

for Camelot's eldest virgin, ' Jessica agreed. 'Not until she

breaks the leash. '

Justin stirred lazily. 'You have to admit she's a hell of a

chamel trainer, though. '

She nodded. 'Chamels are fun. Justin, the Earth Born

used to explore! I remember when they brought the first

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chamels back from the mainland. '

'And lost Josef Smeds to a grendel catching them, '

Toshiro said carefully.

'Yes, but-' Her eyes were locked on the northern hori-

zon. 'I won't say it was worth that, but you can't explore

without risks. And every trip teaches us more. Teaches me

more about myself. '

'I just wish-'

'I know, ' she said quietly. Jessica intertwined fingers

with Toshiro, and gave his hand a squeeze. She affected a

huge yawn. 'I think... that it's time to turn in. '

They rose and retreated from the firelight. From out in

the darkness there came a gasp, followed by a prolonged

and girlish giggle.

11

10

Justin watched her go, and then, belatedly, became

aware of the weight of a feminine head on his shoulder.

'Behind us, ' Gloria said. 'Geographic, just rising. '

He turned; Gloria turned with him. Geographic was a

silver line with a dot at one end. No details showed, but it

looked huge, just above the line of the ocean.

Twenty-four years ago... God. Ten times the mass,

back when it went into orbit. Interstellar brakes! I wish we

had photos. Can you imagine how bright that drive flame

must have been?'

'No humans to see it from down here. Maybe it blinded a

few grendels. ' Gloria was almost behind him, her hands

toying with his hair. 'Is that really your wish?'

To see it myself! 'I wish... that tonight was Fantasy

Night, ' he lied.

'It's any night you want, ' she whispered. She reached up,

turned his face with her fingertips and kissed him blister-

ingly. His hands found the warm, soft places on her body,

and they sank down together by the firelight. There was no

fumbling: latches and straps unbuckled as if by magic.

If anyone saw them there, no one commented. There

were no gawkers as their bodies, gilded by the light of

embers and twin moons, entwined for almost an hour

before release finally calmed them both.

They cuddled for a time, whispering, then - suddenly

freezing - scrambled for a thermal sleeping bag.

Then there was silence, save for the distant sound of

water and the call of some far-off night creature. No one

heard. The fire consumed its last morsels of fuel and began to

fade. No one saw.

The only eyes which remained open were grendel eyes.

Open, staring, glass eyes.

Dead eyes.

Eyes which saw everything, and felt nothing at all.

Twenty-four years before...

It should have been dead of night. Her body knew that,

even though the whole world glared silver-blue from the

light overhead. The grendel had tried looking near it, and

been blind for most of a day. Blind with the agony in her

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head, eyes that saw only at the edges; blind long enough to

die, but her mother, the lake monster, hadn't killed her.

Since then she had not looked up, though she would

wonder about that spear of fire in the sky for the rest of

her life.

For a long, long time there had been nothing but the

hideous pain in her head. Now that agony was receding,

now she could remember that she was hungry. Feeble with

hunger. How could she feed herself if she were too feeble

to fight?

And how was it that she had never had such a notion

until now? She had never fought the lake monster, but

hunger would not have stopped her. Only fear.

It had been at the southern end of a vast lake, where the

water emptied out into a sluggish muddy river, that the

grendel had lived as a swimmer. There she had first drawn

breath, and killed a sibling for food. She began to remem-

ber, now, how hungry she had always been. She and her

sibs had fought for room to swim and room to run, for

space to hold their own swimmers, and eaten what they

killed until only three or four remained. She remembered

the sister who had challenged the monster of the lake and

died almost before the grendel could turn to see.

The lake monster lurked along the west side of the

lake, where pebbly mudflats gave way to horsemane

trees. Further south the forest was different, a tangled

mass of vines and hives and trees that grew like puzzles

and snares. The lake monster lurked sometimes in the

horsemanes, but never in the tangle-forest. And south of

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the tangle-forest was where the grendel and her sisters

lived, and a myriad of their spawn.

Her sisters died, and there was only the grendel and her

own spawn. And still it was not enough. She'd grown too

large. Eating her own spawn felt wrong, repulsive, and

that wasn't the worst of it. She and they didn't have the

room. If they tried to spread out, the lake monster took

them. No room to feed, not enough moss and insects for

the spawn, meant they never grew large enough to feed

their mother. She had to move.

Here, where she was now, it was into the lake that the

muddy river flowed. By the silver-blue light of a thing in the

sky that fit no pattern at all, she looked south. The patterns

linking in her mind showed her how strange it was that she

had ever come here alive. She hadn't had the sight, then.

Wherever she looked, then, was only fear: no patterns at all.

She'd seen how fast the lake monster was in the water.

And on land... but not the southwest shore.

Something so peculiar had happened there that the images

remained even now...

It had been only a little time since the Change, for her

and for the last sister she must drive away. Her sister,

beaten, had retreated to land. She had crossed that patch

of pebbly mud and into the tangle-forest beyond. No web of

plants could stop the juggernaut that was a grendel. Her

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sister might find new turf.

The grendel watched her from the southern shore. Food

was scarce, and there was the lake monster to think about,

too.

Her sister was in the tangled trees, and into some kind

of dust or mist. She screamed once, and burst out of the

trees in a spray of wood and vines. Even the lake monster

had never moved that fast. The grendel watched her streak

down the pebbly mudflats at the head of a dust-cloud

comet.

The lake monster lifted her terrible head - and let her

pass.

She was nearly out of sight when she tumbled to a stop.

She seemed little more than a heap of bones. The grendel

had never dared go for a closer look.

And beyond that place was the lake monster's favourite

lurk.

No, the west shore was impossible even to the senseless

being that the grendel had once been. The route around

the east shore was twice as far, twice the distance in which

the lake monster could find her...

She must have had just a trace of pattern making ability,

even then.

She had waited for a hard rain, then gone wide around

the east shore. Prey was fast and wary, bin on speed it

could be caught. When the rain stopped she must enter the

lake to shed the heat, and then be out of the water before

the lake monster could come...

And so she had lived until she reached the river inlet.

The river was what she sought. She had arrived starv-

ing; but bottom feeders gave her sustenance for many

days. Then came a sickness in her guts, a sickness that had

moved into her head and inflated. For days she had

known nothing but the pain.

And now she felt cold and weird, and her bones were

stretching her skin taut, and her mind was making patterns.

Way down there in the silver-blue light: her own patch

of water and land, with too little food for herself or her

spawn. Probably the lake monster had already cleaned

the spawn out. Only one thing had been desirable about

that place: she could taste the lake monster in the water,

and gain some sense of where she was.

Closer: the lake to her left, and on her right the pebbly

mud, and the tangle-forest where her sister had turned to

fog at a speed-enhanced run.

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Closer yet: more pebbly mud and horsemanes behind,

and one huge old horsemane very near the water. The

lake monster spent most of her time in the water offshore,

but when the woods were wet they could shield her, too.

Grendel spawn could turn to grendels anywhere in the

lake, and their surprise could be brief and intense when

the lake monster burst from the trees.

Here: she could see muddy river and know the food

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beneath. The river would bring bottom feeders. She could

eat now... and the lake monster would taste her anywhere

in the lake, and know she was here. If she had seen patterns

then, she would not have come here.

But she saw another pattern now.

The grendel bore her hunger. She watched the woods

and the water. Of prey she saw no sign, nor any sign of

the lake monster. The silver spear of light failed to rise,

but the strangeness of her world did not go away.

And so a day passed, and a night.

At mid-morning of the following day, the grendel began

to walk toward one great horsemane isolated on the mud.

No sign of the lake monster.

At a moment that was nothing but guess-work, the

grendel began to run.

This was the first puzzle she had ever solved, and she

had no faith in it at all. She ran, but she was not on speed.

When a wave moved where no wave should be, terror

and vindication surged and then she was on speed. She

was skating on slick mud, her legs a blur, homing on the

one isolated tree in a spew of mud and gravel.

The lake monster came out of the water, screamed

challenge, and was on speed.

The grendel veered right and dug in. She'd pass the

tree on her left. If the lake monster came straight at her,

hit her broadside, she would be torn, smashed, dead. She

could see, feel her own death in the pattern! But a notch

more speed changed that, pulled her ahead, and now the

Like monster would hit the tree.

The lake monster saw it. Veered left. She'd strike the

grendel after she had passed the tree.

Hah! The grendel veered left. She missed the tree by a

toe-nail's width, just behind the lake monster's spiked tail. I

lie lake monster was turning in a spew of gravel and

dust, but falling behind for all that.

It slowed her for only a moment. She had been eating

well while sickness had melted the flesh from her daughter.

There was dust blowing out of the tangle-forest as the

grendel swept past them, burning inside, her enemy tattoo

close behind her. But the lake monster swept through I lie

dust, and the dust followed her like a comet tail.

Enough! The grendel veered out over the water. She

could run on water if she ran fast enough, but the speed

was broiling her from inside. She looked back once, and

saw what she had hoped for. She ducked and smashed

into the water and sank, cooling.

She lifted her snorkel. Then, cautiously, her eyes.

The lake monster was a comet of dust running straight at

her across the water.

If the lake monster dived now she'd be free of the fog

and the heat within, but the grendel would have her. The

lake monster didn't dive. Probably she never thought of it.

When she stopped, she was invisible in a restless dark

cloud.

The cloud drifted away. Red bones sank through water.

The grendel gnawed at them, and was still hungry.

Hungry and triumphant. Now she could hunt the shore-

line where the lake monster no longer ruled.

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16

17

I

PART ONE Ice

on Their Minds

Youth holds no society with grief.

Euripides (c 450 BC)

1 - The Return

The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of

all possible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is

true.

James Branch Cabell, The Silver Stallion (1926)

'What in the hell is that?

Jessica Weyland heard the words without recognizing

the voice. It originated just outside the stone walls of the

Stronghold's guest bathroom, where she bent, scrubbing

her cheeks with ice-cold water piped from the Amazon

creek.

The bath was part of the Stronghold's guest suite,

attached to a guest bedroom that had been hers before she

had built her own place at Surf's Up. Toshiro Tanaka, her

previous evening's entertainment, still sprawled uncon-

scious across the bed. Sleep cycle incompatibility

prevented them from having anything but an occasional

fling. Too bad. Like many a musician, he had such good

hands...

'Frozen bat turds! Will you look at it?'

Jessica ran toward the living room before thinking

about what she'd heard. Her legs ate the distance between

bedroom and living room in nine long strides. Her mind

flew faster than her feet. Kids paying us back for last

night? Gotcha? No. They'd be emulating horror, not

astonished curiosity. No, this is something else.

21

Jessica was tall and blue-eyed, as Nordic as a glacier,

with shoulder-length blonde hair, high cheekbones and a

large, cool mouth. She moved like the athletic animal she

was. She was unselfconsciously naked: there had been no

time to grab a towel.

Her father, Cadmann Weyland - Colonel Cadmann

Weyland - had built the Stronghold as a fortress against

monsters even before he understood the grendel threat.

The others called him paranoid and worse, some of them

accusing him of faking a threat as part of a power grab,

even a military takeover of the colony. He left them then,

and built his home on a high ledge, digging into the side of

Mucking Great Mountain. Most of it was underground:

cool in Avalon's winters and warm in her summers. Light

slanted in through the Stronghold's louvred ceiling. The

living room was Paradise.

A green-tiled channel grooved the middle of the living

room. The ice-cold Amazon waters ran through that, right

through the living room, thirty centimetres deep and over a

metre wide. It had once been deeper and narrower there, but

file:///F|/rah/Larry%20Niven/Niven,%20Larry%20-%20Dragons%20of%20Heorot.txt (10 of 347) [1/19/03 5:46:16 PM]

Niven, Larry - The Dragons of Heoror

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