The Claws of the N'longu, Ch. 3
Shadows Over the Jungle
White-eye’s footfalls pounded the upturned soil! His eyes, wide with pain filled fury, were fixed square on the little man in the strange blue garments! Beat after beat of his heavy feet kicked up the loose dirt and detritus left in the wake of the behemoth that fell from the sky and he howled his rage, spit flying from his wide open mouth as he screamed! Yet fast as his brother was, Blackpaw could see it wouldn’t be enough. Despite his shaking and fumbling, the little man was already stuffing the white leaf into his thunder club!
With a roar of his own, Blackpaw tossed his spear aside and dropped to all fours. Hands and feet alike tore over the scar in the jungle floor, his knuckles leaving small furrows as they hammered the dirt! Running like this, he’d be able to move even faster than his brother, who already moved with a swiftness akin to that of the deadly sharp-talon sprinters. The gap between both parties swiftly closed. The small woman screamed, and the small man yelled more strange sounds that Blackpaw didn’t understand. Tone and action told him all he needed to know. The little man pulled the small stick free of his thunder club. Swiftly, he pointed it at White-eye, and that’s when Blackpaw leapt!
The club loosed its fire and thunder. White-eye grunted, eyes wide with shock as he fell sideways. He hit the ground with a heavy thud and large puffs of loose dirt curled up from the ground where he landed. He panted, guttural growls escaping him with each breath out, and rose to his feet with concern when he saw Blackpaw, who’d just tackled him from the side, pressing the palm of his hand to a bloody gash on the outside of his left thigh. Snorting and bearing his teeth, White-eye looked to the tiny pair with renewed anger, but this time he didn’t charge them. He was stopped mid-rise by Blackpaw clapping him across the chest with an open palm and staring up at him in admonishment.
Throwing his hands up in frustration, White-eye stomped in a circle around his brother, grunting irately and pointing repeatedly at the small, pale-skinned people. The pair flinched back in response to his gesticulations as the blue man stuffed another white leaf into the club, but this time he didn’t raise it. Instead, both he and the beautiful woman stared at the brothers with a mixture of fascination and fear, and Blackpaw could hear them whispering things to each other in their strange and complex tongue.
Wincing against the fresh pain in his thigh - thankfully the thunder club had only scratched him, and not so badly as it did his brother - Blackpaw pushed himself upright. Outrage was apparent in White-eye’s demeanor. He hollered and whooped, this time pointing to them with the tip of his spear. Using whatever dark sorceries empowered it, the little blue man had tried to kill them with his thunder club. He nearly succeeded, too, striking both brothers with its invisible power!
But Blackpaw understood something his brother didn’t. Perceptive though White-eye was, a trait helped by his sharp hearing, vision, and sense of smell, his skills were honed toward tracking beasts, spotting prey, and making quick kills. He understood behavior in the sense of what it portrayed about the awareness of animals or the weaknesses of enemies, as was appropriate for a hunter and warrior of superior physicality.
Yet Blackpaw differed from his brother in this, and most of their tribe as well. Where they turned their observant nature toward beasts and foes, both meaningful endeavors that helped keep the tribe safe and fed, he’d turned his toward his own people. He studied facial expressions, tone of voice, and other patterns of behavior that gave away what someone was feeling. In this way, he’d found himself becoming something unique within his tribe, a mediator. It wasn’t perfect by any means. They were a primitive people, and as such they tended to solve disputes with fists and fangs above anything else. Despite that, Blackpaw still managed to settle many disputes before they came to blows. Thus did he not only help to keep his tribe more secure in this harsh jungle land, he also showcased an intellect remarkable among his kind, and he would rely on that intellect now.
The small humans were afraid of them. He recognized it in how they moved and the way their voices sounded when they spoke their strange and complex noises. It was obvious with the yellow-haired woman in pink and white. She screamed and wildly gesticulated when she saw them. Even White-eye couldn’t mistake that as anything but fright. With the man in blue it was less clear. He hadn’t shouted or gesticulated the way she’d done at the start. He looked surprised, blurted those odd noises, then started to stuff the leaf into the thunder club. But Blackpaw could still see his fright. It showed in how his hands shook when he fumbled with the strange weapon, as well as the way they scrambled back when he tried to approach them.
Now that they were closer and the small ones watched the brothers interact with leery curiosity, Blackpaw would try again. He turned to face them, and when the blue man raised his thunder club he sank into a crouch and held his hands out with fingers splayed. No weapons, no tricks. The man didn’t lower the club, and Blackpaw realized he was moving its hollow tube between him and White-eye, who still glowered at them. He waved his brother back and motioned for him to lower his spear. Thankfully, White-eye did as asked, though he grumbled about it the whole while.
The small ones were standing next to each other again, the beautiful female leaning in close to whisper her strange speech into the blue man’s ears. Blackpaw’s keen hearing allowed him to listen in, though he still couldn’t understand the words.
“What’re they doing, Captain?” she said.
“I don’t know, but the less hairy one doesn’t seem to want to hurt us,” he said back.
Their tone told Blackpaw much. Their fear was fading, albeit slowly. Curiosity was starting to take hold in them. He huffed through his nose and gave a soft grunt, waving his hands to show once again that he had no weapons. When they didn’t move, which included the blue man not lowering the thunder club, Blackpaw’s shoulders slumped and he fell to a seat in the dirt. He hummed thoughtfully and patted the soil with his right hand. Something buzzed in front of his face and with that same hand, he swatted it away. The bug landed in the dirt somewhere, but Blackpaw paid it no mind. Instead, he stared at the blackened burn scar on the palm of his right hand, his namesake, much like his brother’s missing eye. Perhaps that would do the trick?
Hopping back into his crouch, and inadvertently startling the pair in the process, he held his hands out again to show he was no threat, then stood. Looking down at the blue man, he reached his right hand out and held his palm in front of his face. Both of the little strangers took surprised steps back, then looked at each other in confusion. Blackpaw shook his hand a little, then patted it twice against his own chest. Blackpaw, me! He repeated the process twice before the young woman’s eyes lit up with realization.
“Captain, do you think he’s trying to tell us who he is?” she said.
“He might be,” the blue man said. “He does keep thumping his chest each time he shoves his palm into my face. Maybe that scar is how his people know him.”
As they made their sounds, the man in blue lowered his thunder club. Blackpaw whooped and jumped thrice in a small circle, as if he were celebrating the victory of a kill! He turned to White-eye and beckoned him over, but the bigger man had already walked off to pull something out from beneath a large rock further up the scar in the land. Blackpaw called to him, frantically trying to wave him over as he hoisted up the body of their bristleback carcass onto his shoulders. White-eye, though, had clearly lost interest and patience. He roared and grunted in return, made it clear he was bringing their food back.
Blackpaw pouted and vocalized something very unkind to his brother. Then he turned around to address the pair again, only to find the blue man had raised the thunder club! He hooted and jumped back, holding both hands out again as he stared at them with wide eyes. No weapon, no harm. Fortunately, it seemed these strangers, far removed by time and technology, were slowly beginning to understand one another. The blue man nodded and lowered his thunder club, and when the beautiful yellow-haired woman squeezed his arm and gave him a frightened look, he reassured her.
A wide smile cut across Blackpaw’s lips! Crouching down, he pawed at the ground excitedly as he slowly approached. Little did he know how he appeared to the civilized strangers. While he stood considerably taller than both of them, his excitement and curiosity made him look somewhat like an overgrown child or a playful animal to their eyes. The blue man chuckled and said something to the woman, who did not appear nearly so confident as he but still managed a crooked smile all the same. That smile grew into a nervous but mirthful laugh as Blackpaw started to interact with the blue man, curiously inspecting that wrapping he wore. It really was just like the one he found on the corpse, though whole and absent the stains of blood. However, though the man took this in stride and laughed, when he moved to inspect that long, loose covering that hung about the woman’s legs, she yelped and scrambled away.
The blue man put himself between Blackpaw and her, saying something with those strange sounds. Once more, it was the tone that made their meaning clear. Somehow he’d committed a wrong, done something he shouldn’t have. Blackpaw frowned and slouched, scratching at his chin as he leered at the woman. She covered herself with her arms, though she didn’t have much that needed covering. Her body already bore a garment that covered most of it, though she did hide the cleavage of her bosom from him. Still, he found it strange that she would be so bothered by his curiosity for her garments and body. The women of his tribe had no such compunctions. If a man came to them and grabbed them up, they either accepted it or beat him back, just as the men would if the same happened to them.
What he was witnessing was an entirely alien notion to him, that of modesty, and he found it confusing. On the one hand, it frustrated him. He wanted to study her strange garments and see how she looked beneath them. She was beautiful and exotic to him, and the way the pink and white coverings shaped her caused him to feel lusty and curious. However, the very fact he couldn’t see made him want to see even more. She enticed him in a way that none of the women in his tribe ever had, yet he was stopped and scolded for doing what was perfectly natural. This upset him, and what started as annoyed grumbling soon grew into him slamming a fist into the dirt with an angry howl! That made both of them step back, and the blue man once more reached for the thunder club that now hung at his waist. Blackpaw quieted, holding out a hand in a peace gesture as he started to push himself to his feet again. However, as he tried to vocalize his calm, a meaty hand clapped over his mouth.
The woman screamed, and the thunder club flew from the brown holder on the blue man’s waist! He raised it high, aiming it above Blackpaw’s head, but Blackpaw held both hands out to stop him from using its magic. White-eye had snuck up on them. He must have come from the treeline and charged from behind, but Blackpaw hadn’t been able to hear him. He’d been too distracted, and White-eye knew it. Looking up at his brother, he saw that his eye was trained toward the sky and the tops of the trees that still stood. He must’ve noticed something that Blackpaw missed.
Slowly releasing the hold on his mouth, White-eye leaned down and muttered into Blackpaw’s ear. “Tuo ohlo.”
Immediately Blackpaw’s eyes went wide. He scanned the canopy line toward the north. For a moment he saw nothing, but then he started to see shadows darkening the sunbeams that made their way between the leaves. He grit his teeth and growled, then made a sprint on all fours to retrieve his spear! The terror soarers were coming, and Blackpaw had been a fool not to think that they might! The crash of the behemoth left carrion for them to pick from, at the very least the bodies of the swoop horn and the small man he’d found, though there were likely more. However, if they were still here when the soarers arrived, then it was a safe bet the bigger ones would come for them first simply for being the more obvious meal.
His spear hadn’t been thrown far. When he made the dive to knock White-eye out of the thunder club’s path earlier, he’d blindly tossed it aside. Fortunately it lay at the foot of an upturned rock near the slope of the fallen behemoth’s furrow, a very short sprint away. Snatching it off the ground, he gripped it tight in both hands and sank low against the slope. He listened. He watched. He sniffed the air, and his lips curled back into a snarl. Terror soarers flew with surprising quiet for their size. Their wings were large and leathery, able to catch the wind and allow them to glide long distances with minimal movement. This meant fewer beats and buffets to warn of their approach. A keen nose could take notice early, though. Those beasts had a particular stink to them that was dusty, acrid, and pungent. He could smell it now.
White-eye called to him from across the furrow. He pushed upright and turned on the balls of his feet to sprint back to the other side. Not three steps in, he heard the warbling cry of a soarer and saw its shadow pass overhead! Waving his free hand he warned the two small ones to duck down, but they were too stunned by what they saw to listen! White-eye was not, and despite the injury caused by the thunder club, he grabbed the strange pair of pale folk and forced them to lie face forward in the dirt!
He moved not a moment too soon. The massive flying beast was already swooping low, its talons outstretched. They gnashed shut on nothing, but the beast did manage to gash White-eye’s back. He growled against the pain and scrambled around on three limbs, turning to face the large flier with surprising speed. Blackpaw came up beside him, spear held firm in both hands. The soarer was banking over the trees, its long beaked head tilted to watch them as it turned. The blue man and yellow-haired woman both tried to get up and run, but Blackpaw gave them each a firm press on the back with his closed fist. Hopefully they’d understand; if they got up now, they’d probably die.
The soarer finished its turn. Its beak, straight and sharp and as long as Blackpaw was tall, pointed directly at the brothers like a massive spearhead. It descended with incredible speed! Blackpaw had seen these larger soarers swoop in on prey before and always felt they were fast, but he couldn’t truly appreciate their speed until now. He and his brother grunted swift signals to each other, holding their spears and positions firm as the flying beast angled its wings and opened its grabbing talons again! The brothers waited. It swooped lower, its shadow cast over them both! Blackpaw felt the skin of his palm creak against the wooden haft of his spear. Then, just before it grabbed at them, both brothers ducked out of the way and thrust their spears up!
The soarer warbled and clacked its long beak. The spears didn’t do significant damage, but each of them had torn a fresh rip into the leathery membrane of each wing. Blackpaw’s was small, little more than a knick. The timing of his thrust was off, so he only caught the wing along its lower edge. White-eye struck more true, tearing a jagged rent a third of the way up the membrane.
The terror soarer landed clumsily, stumbling on its feet and the two-clawed hands that sat at the middle joint of its wings. It flexed its injured right wing. The membrane was bleeding, drops of dark red dribbling out onto the soil. It turned toward them, opened its mouth wide, and shrieked. They’d made it angry, and it intended to take out its anger on them! Each of them grabbing one of the strangers up off the ground, (with Blackpaw clapping a hand around the mouth of the screaming woman) the brothers ran for the treeline with the terror soarer hobbling behind them! Despite its awkward loping gait, thanks to its leg-limbs being short and its wing-limbs being so much longer, the tall and angry creature moved with surprising alacrity! It kept pace with them, and even gained as it opened its wings and started to leap along! Soon it would be in biting distance, but maybe the blue man could use his thunder club to stop it!
Suddenly, the soarer gave a strangled cry. The brothers kept running until they reached the tree line, but once they did they stopped. The woman squirmed and struggled in Blackpaw’s grasp, beating against his arm and chest even as he let her go. He paid her no mind, turning instead to watch the soarer as it clumsily loped along. Its head darted from left to right, its large eyes shifting this way and that as it warbled and wobbled. One of its feet caught on the stump of a tree broken by the behemoth, then it fell forward, its body limp and still save for its haggard breathing.
Blackpaw frowned. Looking to White-eye and the blue man, he wondered if maybe the little human had used his thunder club after all? No, it didn’t seem so. The club’s magic was loud and left smoke and fire in its wake. Blackpaw heard no sound, nor did he feel the heat of fire or smell the smoke that came with it. His brother seemed equally astonished, though the hard set of both their jaws revealed that this mystery was far more concerning than either of the openly confused smaller humans seemed to realize. Once they were on their feet again, they moved to discuss with each other in hushed tones. Blackpaw was curious and considered listening in, but not knowing their language made it pointless to do so. All he’d be able to glean was from their tone and body language, and that was easy enough to do without dropping needless eaves.
No, Blackpaw’s interest was far more squarely placed on the fallen soarer. He was tempted to go and inspect it more closely, but it was still breathing. Lethargic though it was, all it would need was one good burst of energy to catch Blackpaw by surprise and rip out his entrails with a single snap of that sharp beak. Still, he couldn’t deny that the urge was strong. He saw no visible injuries on the soarer beyond what they’d caused it with their spears, yet it lay limp, its breathing belabored. What could’ve done such a thing?
A sudden yelp from the blue man drew his attention. The yellow-haired woman looked at him with worry. “What is it, what happened?” she said in a frantic tone.
He was holding his neck and wincing. “I don’t know,” he said. He sounded tired and he grimaced as he pulled something from the back of his neck.
Blackpaw’s breath caught, and White-eye roared and rushed at the tree nearest to the small humans. It was too late. The woman yelped next, right as the blue man stumbled forward! White-eye started to wobble on his feet. He swung his spear back and forth, howling violently! It didn’t take long for his arm to tire and voice to weaken, and even less time before he slumped forward against the tree.
Blackpaw felt it next, a prick in his neck just above the collar. Sharp, burning pain lanced into him a moment later. He grit his teeth and braced his feet, but he started to sway anyway. Swiping at the spot that stung, he pulled the thing out from his neck. It was a skinny wooden dart with a tuft of feathers on one end, and the fat bulge of a wasp’s abdomen and long stinger on the other.
Blackpaw growled as he stared at it. He tossed it aside, gripped his spear tight, then took a defiant step forward! That one step sent him tumbling to the jungle floor. His vision blurred. His breathing slowed. He tried to crawl forward, but found he was too weak. Dark shapes moved in his vision, small and menacing. Then, as he watched one approach, he felt something hard strike the side of his head and his vision went black.
Thank you all for reading the chapter 3 of The Claws of the N’longu, my entry for a writing challenged posed by
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.Chapter Word Count: 3,630
Total Word Count: 7,700
My favorite part of this whole thing continues to be the personality you're able to inject into Blackpaw and White-eye; sans dialogue. This entry especially had them both showing their strengths and weaknesses. When you said Blackpaw was the tribe mediator, my first thought was "well of course", which is a sign of good foreshadowing. White-eye stalking off during negotiations, only to prove his worth when sensing the terror stalkers, helped bring him to life as well. A continued good show, I eagerly await part 4.
So much action here! I love the primitive perspective, even though it's third person its real caveman style gives it a distinctive voice that's so refreshing. Terror soarer is very impressive, and the surprise ending with the darts OOOH! Well done dude! As usual.