The Claws of the N'longu, Ch. 1

The Thing that Fell from the Sky

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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The sky burned, and through the broadleaf canopy of a primordial jungle, a primitive warrior watched a thing of fire and smoke fall.

He was called Blackpaw, and he’d been perched in the thick branches of a tall, flowering chumpa tree. Smooth, pale bark scratched at his calloused feet and hands and he had his spear, which was longer than he was tall, tucked under his arm. Pink and orange flowers with long, soft petals bloomed at the ends of the tree’s wide splaying branches. Some of them, particularly those near the bottom of the tree, had grown fat, spiny green bulbs at their bases, tempting Blackpaw to spear one and crack it open for the meaty pulp inside. Alas, the chumpafruits had yet to ripen. Green fruits were bitter and dried the mouth when eaten. He’d have to wait until they started turning red.

Blackpaw had sat in that tree for about an hour, waiting and watching with his brother, White-eye, dutifully watching the ground from a lower branch. White-eye was considered among the best hunters of their tribe. He was tall, broad shouldered, and barrel chested. His tawny skin was partly hidden beneath the heavy black hair on his back, chest, arms, and legs, and he had a wild and tangled mane to match hanging halfway down his back. Blackpaw always thought this made his brother look more like one of the ape-men than their own kind, though there were plenty of other men in the tribe just as hairy as White-eye was.

Blackpaw wasn’t one of them. He was considered something of a runt at home. Where White-eye was one of the biggest among the hunter-gatherers of the primordial jungle, standing a little bit taller than everyone else, he was among the smallest. His shoulders weren’t as broad and his limbs, while still corded with strong muscle, didn’t have that same sort of thickness his brother’s did. His chest and belly were narrower, too, lacking in that trunk-like quality. He wasn’t even as hairy as the other men, sporting meager black matting on his chest, forearms, and legs compared to his older brother, though the hair on his head still reached down past his shoulders.

They’d been out hunting, waiting for large game to pass beneath them on the jungle floor when thunder cracked from the blue sky. Blackpaw knew that sort of thing didn’t just happen. Thunder came with rain, and rain came with the gray that blocked the sky and the sun. Pressed up against the tree’s trunk, he looked up to see what made the noise. The jungle was home to all manner of beasts, some who swam, many who walked, and some few who flew. Most that flew were buzzing insects or small birds, but there were also the giant bats that laired in the caves of the Red Mountain and the terror soarers that nested on the northern cliffs, near Three Lakes. Those made terrible sounds from their beaks. Could they make thunder too?

Well, it wasn’t a terror soarer. When Blackpaw saw the fire falling over the canopy, he smacked the butt of his spear against the tree trunk and pointed up at it, looking down to his brother with wide eyes. White-eye was already looking up, his one good eye just as wide and his thick, square jaw set. The thing that burned was long and broad. It had a deep bottom that was shaped like the body of those trumpeting and tusked gray thumpers or the even larger long-necked thunderfoots. However, this thing was far larger and had no legs. Instead its long, broad body had shiny flapping wings that burned and burst with hot orange fire and spewed black smoke like the Red Mountain sometimes did.

Birds cried and beasts roared from the direction in which it fell. All throughout the jungle the snap of trees and drumming of panicked footfalls and beating wings echoed out. Then came thunder again, drawn out with the cracks of splintered wood. When the cacophony went silent, Blackpaw looked to his brother again and pointed in the direction of the noise with his spear.

Go?

White-eye nodded, and with a grunt, he leapt down from his perch. Blackpaw followed him, dexterously hopping down from branch to branch before he, too, leapt and landed on all fours among the dead leaves and detritus which permanently littered the jungle floor. Both ran like beasts possessed. Keeping their spears pointed forward and tucked close at their sides, they ran three-limbed through the trees, using their arms to help position themselves so they could vault over any low obstacles in their paths. Those they couldn’t vault over they climbed, scaling boulders and mossy creek banks and root-twined hills with practiced skill and a driving sense of urgency, though the form their urgency took differed for each of them.

Blackpaw knew his brother well. For him, this was more an opportunity than anything else. The thing that fell from the sky had frightened the jungle beasts. Everything from gray thumpers to bristlebacks to long-fang cats to those clever and deadly sharp-talon sprinters would be fleeing from where it fell. That meant easy prey, and better yet, easy pickings if the falling thing had killed something itself. Blackpaw recognized this and saw the value in it. So long as they were careful not to get themselves trampled, this would be a good chance to bring a lot of food back to the tribe.

But that wasn’t why Blackpaw ran. That wasn’t why he wanted to go. No, he wanted to see this falling thing with his own eyes. What it did. What it was. He wanted to know how something so big could fly through the sky. The giant bats and terror soarers were big creatures, bigger than him or White-eye! But they weren’t as big as a thunderfoot or even a gray thumper, and that thing was bigger than all of those! He wanted to know more; needed to know more!

A rumbling sounded ahead of them. The brothers stopped in their tracks, then slipped behind a nearby boulder. The bassy thoom, thoom, thoom of massive footfalls echoed from the trees and were swiftly followed by the splitting of branches. Ducking low, they watched as a trio of thunderfoots stampeded past. Their heads were ducked low on their long necks to avoid hitting the high branches in the trees, but their wide bellied bodies splintered the lower ones and scraped bark from the trees as they forced their way through. Other animals followed behind them; ground rodents and long legged deer and squealing bristlebacks. White-eye knocked a meaty fist into Blackpaw’s shoulder and made a stern grunt. They would take advantage of this opportunity.

Nodding, Blackpaw took his spear in both hands and pressed up against the boulder. He leaned out, peering around the rock as the thundering footfalls started to die down. The softer, quieter ones were easier to hear now, and he could hear the clap of small hooves approaching. He grunted thrice, two short and one long, then lightly tapped the haft of his spear once against the rock.

Bristleback, one.

White-eye gave a curt huff of acknowledgement and pressed his ear to the rock. His hearing had always been sharp, but he’d further honed it ever since his left eye was slashed by the claws of a young long-fang. When the hog was close, he’d cut off its escape, leaving Blackpaw to spear it. It was a familiar tactic, one that worked well for them many times, and the same was true today. Despite his bulky form, White-eye could move with surprising swiftness. He didn’t move until the hog was within three steps, and when he sprang out in front of it the beast was so surprised that it reared and nearly fell on its side. Taking advantage of the opening, both brothers lunged with their spears. White-eye caught the large bristleback in its mouth, while Blackpaw’s spear stabbed between its ribs and pierced its heart. With a weak squeal, it gave one spasm before it went limp.

White-eye clapped a meaty hand on his smaller brother’s shoulder and whooped, then knelt down to sling the animal over his shoulder. The bristleback was a large one. The smaller of their kind could be slung over a single shoulder, but White-eye quickly realized that he’d have to hoist this thing on both of them if he wanted to carry it alone. Looking up at Blackpaw, he gave the carcass a heavy pat.

Help.

But Blackpaw didn’t move. He was looking down at the dead beast and at his brother, but instead of kneeling to help hoist the thing, he turned to look in the direction of the fire that fell. A meaty hand clapped his shoulder again, but this time it wasn’t congratulatory. White-eye’s thick fingers, calloused and ending in rough nails, dug into the dense muscles at the base of Blackpaw’s neck

“Agraah!” he grunted. No!

Then he pointed back down to the boar. “Ohss!” Help!

Blackpaw shook his head and motioned up the stampede trail with his spear. A brown haze of smoke was starting to waft into the area, carried on a building breeze.

“Ah ahk!” he sounded, shaking his spear. Look!

White-eye’s lips curled into a toothy snarl and he grunted no again.

“Ah ahk!” Blackpaw repeated. “Okhu! Na-ah okhu!”

White-eye threw his hands up in frustration and kicked the bristleback carcass. Then his shoulders sagged and with a guttural grumble, he nodded, and Blackpaw gave a crooked grin.

Primitive a man though he was, Blackpaw was also clever. He understood that the burning thing that fell was the biggest he’d ever seen come from the sky. He understood how that made the animals stampede and flee, and he understood why, even if he didn’t understand what the burning thing was. Fire was frightening and dangerous, and that did make it risky to go closer, but between the fire and the sheer enormity of the burning, falling thing, chances were good that something even bigger than a boar might’ve been crushed by it.

That alone made it worth looking at, because a bigger animal meant they could bring back more food. White-eye, reluctantly, had agreed, and once they’d situated the bristleback across his broad shoulders they continued up the path the stampede carved through the jungle and into the smoke to find the thing of fire and smoke that fell from the sky.

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Thank you all for reading the first chapter of The Claws of the N’longu, my first installment of a writing challenged posed by

The Brothers Krynn

to write a 10,000-20,000 word Howardian pulp adventure as part of our weekly Sword and Saturday pulp fantasy share-fest. If you’d like to participate, the final submission date is Saturday, Feb. 17th and specific details are available in the linked post.

Total Word Count: 1,753

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