Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (20 page)

Quinlan made his way around the top end of the massive stone structure, where the soil, a couple of trees, and most of the vegetation had been uprooted and cast into the sand. Finally, on the other side of the tower, Quinlan spotted the source of the strange commotion. Down in the sand valley lay a large animal. One of its hind legs was pinned beneath a six-foot fragment of fallen stone.

The scattered sand gave evidence that the creature had tried for hours to dig its way out, but for some reason it had been unsuccessful. Now it lay on its side, exhausted and perfectly still except for deep, ragged breaths.

Realizing the penthomoth could not see him from its current position, Quinlan ventured a little closer, gawking at one of the strangest creatures he had ever seen—though it wasn’t nearly the monster his imagination and the murky moonlight had made it out to be a few nights earlier.

The well-muscled body was the size of a large horse, with powerful legs angled so its body mass stayed low to the ground. The feet were wide and webbed, with large digging claws—clearly capable of moving buckets of sand in one swipe. The creature was hairless except for short, sand-colored fur covering its body and head.

The head, in fact, was what shocked Quinlan the most. What he had thought were tentacles were actually hairless trunks like that of an elephant, only more slender. Five of them waved from its face—one in the middle, bracketed by two short tusks, and two on either side. Quinlan looked into the open mouth for the rows of razor-sharp teeth he had imagined, but he saw only something resembling the teeth of a hound.

Having satisfied his curiosity about the animal, Quinlan turned to leave, but the penthomoth moaned a pathetic cry that tugged on his heart. He turned back, wishing now that he hadn’t come. He slowly descended into the sand valley and walked around the pinned animal, giving it a wide berth. When he came within its field of view, the animal lurched and tried to scramble to its feet, then cried out in pain. Blood oozed from its leg and into the sand around it.

Still six paces away, Quinlan knelt to get a better look. The animal
gradually calmed and settled its head back to the sandy bed, the trunks moving only slightly. Its gold-colored eyes followed Quinlan as he crept closer, staying just beyond the reach of the trunks.

Dare I go any closer?
he wondered, remembering the strength of those quirky appendages. When he could not muster the nerve to go closer, the penthomoth moaned and reached out with its center trunk. Quinlan tentatively reached out and touched it. The penthomoth moaned again, and Quinlan’s heart pounded. He fully expected the animal to grab him and eat him, but it didn’t. It lay still and allowed him to come even closer.

Quinlan put his hand on the animal’s flank and felt its chest rise and fall with each breath. Then it reached back with one trunk and gently touched his shoulder.

“You’re not such a horrible monster after all, are you?” Quinlan said, and the animal gently cried out in agreement. He stroked it a couple of times, then went to where the stone fragment had pinned its legs to see if there was anything he could do to help. He felt beneath the animal’s pinned leg and realized why it had been unable to free itself. About six feet below the surface of the surrounding sand was a solid rock floor. As the penthomoth had dug, the stone fragment had apparently settled deeper and deeper, pinning him firmly between the rock fragment and the stone floor.

Quinlan was at a loss as to what to do. The rock was simply too large to move, and the solid stone beneath made digging deeper impossible.

He went back to the head of the penthomoth. “You’re in quite a fix, big fella.” He stroked the animal again, and it just looked at him sadly out of the corner of its eyes. Quinlan opened his water bottle and poured a little water into the mouth of the exhausted animal. It lifted its head and lapped up the precious liquid, then moaned and settled back down.

Quinlan pondered what to do. He couldn’t stay here, but leaving the animal to die of hunger or exposure was unthinkable.

“I’m sorry, big fella.” Quinlan took out his dagger and set the blade against the penthomoth’s throat. The animal seemed to know what was about to happen, but it stayed perfectly still. Quinlan had hunted animals
of this size many times before, often ending their lives in just this way when an arrow had not fully done its job. He put a firm hand on the animal’s cheek, took a deep breath, and readied himself … but for some reason he couldn’t follow through.

Shaking his head, he returned the knife to its sheath. “Sorry, fella. I guess I’m not much help to you.” The center trunk lifted up and rested across his chest as if to say, “It’s all right.”

Quinlan climbed out of the sand valley and retraced his steps. As he picked his way through the vegetation at the top of the fallen tower, an idea began forming in his mind.

He searched among the uprooted trees until he found one about fifteen feet long and as thick as his arm. Using his sword as an ax, he chopped off the flimsy upper portion, then cut away the branches until he had created a sturdy ten-foot pole. He carried it back to where the penthomoth lay and slid back down into the sand valley. After digging down far enough to stand on the stone floor, Quinlan wedged one end of the pole into a small space between the rock and the stone floor next to the penthomoth’s leg. He pushed the pole through a short way and lifted the lever upward. It took all his might and multiple tries, but finally the large rock fragment lifted ever so slightly.

The penthomoth must have felt the ease in pressure, for it yanked its leg out, then screamed and glared at Quinlan. Quinlan quickly dropped the pole, realizing that being trapped in a sand pit with a hungry, injured wild beast was a precarious situation. He slowly backed away, but the penthomoth came after him, wrapping its trunks around him before he could draw his sword. Quinlan struggled, but the trunks were too strong as they pulled him toward its gaping mouth.

At the last moment, a long tongue came out and slurped across Quinlan’s face. It felt disgusting, but it was far from deadly. Quinlan started to laugh as the penthomoth finally released him.

“Who’s going to believe this story?” he said as he stroked the beast a few times.

The penthomoth made a sound similar to its scream, only softer. It turned and started licking its injured leg.

“Take care of yourself, big fella.” Quinlan turned and climbed out of the sand valley. The penthomoth tried to climb out after him, but the injured leg hindered its efforts. Quinlan reached down a hand, and two of the trunks wrapped around his forearm. He dug in his heels, and though he slid and sank in the sand, the extra leverage was enough to help the animal out of the valley. It limped a few paces and lay down.

Quinlan dug his way back out of the sand and walked over to the penthomoth, which lay quietly as Quinlan gently lifted its leg. As far as he could tell, the bone was not broken, though the hide had been scraped and cut and the muscle seemed torn. The injury looked very painful.

Quinlan shook his head, upset with himself that he had ever come
to find out what the ruckus was all about. He needed to be on his way, but he also felt obligated to help this animal, which had attached itself to him in a strange way.

“Well,” he finally said, “if I’m going to help you, you must have a name. What will it be?”

The penthomoth looked at him with expressive gold eyes, then took to licking its wound again.

“I think your name will be Kalil. It means ‘friend.’ ” The penthomoth trumpeted approval, and Quinlan laughed.

Quinlan drank from his water bottle, then offered another drink to Kalil. He collected some leaves and berries from the shrubs that had fallen with the stone tower and offered them to Kalil, who devoured them immediately. Later Quinlan killed a couple of brown snakes, and Kalil ate them too.

“Is there anything you won’t eat?” he asked his strange new friend. “Besides me, that is?” In response, Kalil stroked him with his trunks, something Quinlan was slowly getting used to. The animal actually seemed to be an affectionate and intelligent creature.

Quinlan stayed with Kalil the rest of the day except for when he made a trip to the river a short distance north of them to fill his water bottle. Kalil was sleeping when he returned, and Quinlan was reminded that the animal was not only exhausted but also nocturnal, accustomed to sleeping during the day. Quinlan considered moving on while it slept, but it was already too late to make the sea today, and he wasn’t sure Kalil could survive on his own. So he spent the rest of the day hunting for food, then lay down beside Kalil to sleep.

The peace of the evening did not last long. Quinlan felt the sand beneath him shift and move, so he jumped up. He dove a few feet to another place in the sand, but that moved too. No matter where he went, the sand seemed to shift all around him. Then trunks just like Kalil’s began to rise up out of the sand.

“Kalil!” he shouted to his penthomoth friend, but the animal seemed comatose.

Two penthomoths simultaneously rose up out of the sand, surrounding Quinlan. They growled and bared their teeth in a way he had
never heard nor seen Kalil do. In this state, the animals were terrifying. Sinuous trunks moved slowly as if looking for the perfect place to grasp their victim. Muscles rippled in anticipation of the attack. The penthomoths crouched low, preparing to pounce.

Quinlan reached over and jostled Kalil just as one of the penthomoths lunged for him and grabbed his legs. Another grabbed his arms, and he thought he was about to be torn in half.

Just then an ear-piercing trumpet blasted, and the penthomoths hesitated. Kalil limped toward Quinlan, growling—but not at him. The penthomoth holding his arms released him just as Kalil wrapped his trunks around his torso. Kalil trumpeted again, and the other penthomoth released his legs. Kalil gently set Quinlan down and turned to face the other animals. After a volley of snarls and growls, they fled to seek easier prey.

When it was all over, Quinlan breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, friend,” he said when Kalil returned and nuzzled him.

Quinlan continued to feed Kalil over the next few days until the animal was able to start using his leg again.

When Quinlan traveled toward the river and on to the sea, the penthomoth stayed with him.

Quinlan waited by the sea near the river’s broad mouth for three days, keeping an eye on Chesney Isle a fair distance offshore. While he waited, Kalil grew stronger and was soon hunting and foraging on his own. Quinlan was now certain the animal would survive back in its habitat—a relief because he knew he couldn’t take Kalil on the next leg of his journey.

On the morning of the fourth day, Quinlan finally spotted a small boat coming from the island. Quinlan saw violet light through the crystal coin and knew the boat was for him.

Two Silent Warriors pulled the boat within a few feet of the shore and motioned for Quinlan just as Kalil, who had been foraging in the brush along the river, came trumpeting from the trees.

“Hurry—get in!” One of the Silent Warriors drew his sword. “These creatures can’t swim.”

“It’s all right. He’s a friend.” Quinlan walked toward the romping penthomoth, who bounded closer, then leaped into the air.

“Watch out!” the Silent Warrior yelled, but Kalil landed just in front of Quinlan and ducked low before him, crying in sad tones.

Quinlan stroked Kalil, and the animal wrapped his trunks around him. Quinlan pointed inland. “Kalil, you can’t come with me. You must return to the dunes.”

Kalil slowly released him, fell to the ground, and rolled over for Quinlan to stroke his chest. Quinlan obliged, then stood up. “I’ve got to go, Kalil. Go home!”

Quinlan started wading toward the boat. Kalil turned back on his feet and tried to follow. He trumpeted sadly and splashed in the water as Quinlan climbed into the boat. As the warriors began to row, Kalil actually plunged into the sea and began to paddle toward them.

“Remarkable,” one of the warriors said.

When Kalil realized he could not catch them, he turned back to shore, shook himself, and trumpeted a woeful cry.

Quinlan felt a little woeful himself. He was surprised how quickly Kalil had become attached to him … and he to Kalil.