The warm yet chilling breeze carried the scent of blood for miles. Those ignorant of the final battle that had taken place upon the extinct volcano, Ignis Peak, soon realised that something colossal had happened, something that would change the lives of everyone who had lived in the land of Ignis Springs. It was an event that would be told over and over to the forthcoming generations of dinosaurs and animals, by those who had inevitably survived the terrible ordeal.
The foot of Ignis Peak was splattered with blood and strewn with dead or injured bodies. Small tongues of flame crackled here and there, reminiscent of the huge fire that had consumed ninety per cent of the vegetation that had managed to thrive on mountainside, and the walls of the extinct volcano belched thin grey smoke into the sky. As Dark Kalm approached, the injured were gathered from below and taken away to rest.
The adult Saurornithoides regarded the sight with a shudder. He too had been marginally involved with the battle, but had been spared by the enemy. He had been the second henchman of the tyrannical ruler, whose actions towards Ignis Springs and its inhabitants had prompted war. The ruler had brought this on himself, the henchman felt sure of that, and knew that no one, including himself, should have meddled with that species.
The Saurornithoides, or blood-drinker, was one of the only survivors in the blood-drinker army. They were small predators, about three feet tall when fully grown, with long necks, green skin, often patterned with dark spots, and large sickle-claws on each big toe. Most disturbing of all were their eyes; huge, golden orbs that seemed to burn right through anyone who dared look into them. They used their excellent vision when hunting in small groups for lizards and mammals that emerged at Light Kalm. There were less survivors out of the couple of hundred or so that had taken part in battle, since the enemy had cut them down like corn.
The henchman’s name was Leech, and he had been present since the very beginning. The war had been the result of events happening over the past couple of years, and in those two years, Leech had not only lost his older brother, Roinder, but his once fanatical obsession to explore. As a hatchling, he had often disappeared from the nest on expeditions into the surrounding area, but experience and tragedy had now taught him otherwise. It had been because of his inquisitive nature that his master had risen to take over Ignis Springs, and had brought terrible consequences upon them all as a result.
Leech heaved a sigh of both relief and sadness; it was all over now. The old ruler would regain his post, and Ignis Springs would be as peaceful as it had been before they arrived; Leech just wished Roinder had been here to see it through to the end. He gazed around at the herbivores as they edged nearer the mountain, inquisitive, curious, some shocked and traumatised. Leech saw one herbivore he recognised; one of the main rebels, disappearing into the jungle. The blood-drinker shuddered; he could never go in there again, despite it being ‘safe’ now; too many memories.
He continued to watch the female Protoceratops – Ferne, he believed her name was – as she plodded into the foliage. She was a plant-eater, about the size of a small cow, with grey, pebbled skin, matching the colour of the smoke that was drifting up from Ignis Peak, with chestnut speckles on her body. She was a distant relation of Triceratops, with the headshield and parrot beak, but with no horns. Two distinctive jet black blotches adorned her neck frill. Judging by her podginess, Leech assumed she was going to lay eggs. The thought of stealing them crossed his mind, but he soon dismissed the idea – there were barely any plant-eaters left – he decided he had better let her alone to raise her young, and hopefully allow the herbivore population to recover.
The now ex-henchman lay down beneath a cycad palm, watching The Solar slowly rise over The Sky Mirror. The waves of The Sky Mirror lapped gently against the rocks on the beach, over the cliff, and its ocean song was carried by the wind. A lone Pterosaur shrieked and wheeled over the sea, silhouetted against the rising sun, and the heat haze began to rise from the ground as The Dark Kalm faded into the pre-Solar-zenith.
Leech half-shut his eyes, and a comfortable smile contorted his lips. He pictured his childhood once again, when the whole colony of Saurornithoidi had lived by the swamps, hunting the mammals and lizards there, and thriving happily together. He shut his eyes, and began to relive the very beginning of the Dark Era.
*
“Leech?” called an agitated voice, “Where are you?”
The hatchling in question giggled and ducked away into the bushes. His mother growled and shook her head.
“Roinder!” she called, “help me look, Leech’s run off again!”
Leech scampered away into the copse, intent on exploring a new world, one he had been denied experience of by his protective mother. He raced through the undergrowth, jumping ferns, rocks and fallen logs, bolting deeper into the wooded area.
“By The Lunar,” Leech’s mother cursed, “when I get him home I’ll…”
“What’s the problem, Mother?” another blood-drinker asked. He was a mid-juvenile, about two thirds grown, with dark green skin and a splash of amber on his chest, running underneath his belly and tail. His eyes were large and curious, and on each big toe he carried a sickle-like claw, just like the other blood-drinkers in the colony.
“I think you can guess,” she replied tiresomely, “your little brother’s run off again. I don’t know which way he went.” She turned to Roinder suspiciously. “I hope you haven’t been telling him outrageous stories again; I’m sure they’re the reason he wanders off – probably wants to search for those ridiculous monsters.”
“Me?” Roinder cried, “I don’t tell them! It’s Thor-“
“Never mind, just help me look for him!” his mother snapped in reply.
Meanwhile, Leech, oblivious to the concern and aggravation he was causing everyone, skidded to a halt, deep in the copse, to catch his breath. At least he would be out of sight and earshot by now, and he could get down to some exploring. He did not understand why his mother did not let him out to see this beautiful, amazing new world, besides, the evil monsters only emerged at Dark Zenith. What was she afraid of?
Evil monsters. Leech suddenly felt panicky; before his impulse to explore had led him off into the fading glow of Light Kalm, he had not been able to check whether it was a Dark Zenith tonight. What if it was? He could be ambushed and eaten up by the horrors that lurked in the shadows. He shifted and fidgeted uneasily as the trees towered above him. In the dying light, everything was silhouetted, and the ferns and shrubs seemed to have taken on grotesque forms. The density of the copse oppressed little Leech, and he regretted his actions.
Insects cheeped in the bushes, electric-blue dragonflies buzzed overhead, in unison with mosquitoes, and twigs snapped and leaves rustled as the mammals emerged, their bright eyes reflecting the light of the stars as they twinkled in the sky above. Tickly ferns brushed against Leech as he moved slowly deeper into the copse, leaving splashes of water from previous rainstorms on his body.
The hatchling jumped and cried out in fear as something came crashing through the undergrowth behind him. He cringed and prepared to flee, but a pair of jaws clamped around the nape of his neck and lifted him clean off the ground.
“Please!!” wailed the baby blood-drinker, “Please don’t eat me!!”
There was a grunt as whatever was holding him attempted to speak whilst he was in its mouth, and then Leech was lowered to the ground again. Leech spun around, stricken with fear, to catch a glimpse of his assailant before the final blow, but his heart slowed, rivers of relief rushing through his veins, as he found himself staring up at his older brother.
“You scared me!” Leech whimpered, “I thought you were a monster!”
Roinder frowned.
“Won’t you ever learn? There’s no such things as monsters – you shouldn’t go believing anything he tells you – he’s just trying to frighten you! Besides,” he added, pointing up at the sky, “it’s not Dark Zenith anyway. It’s gibbous. See?”
Leech looked gladly up at the sky, where The Lunar hung, full except for a tiny cap of shadow on its brow.
“Come on,” Roinder said sympathetically, “you’d better get back to the nest, or Mother will have it in for you.”
“I bet she does, anyway,” Leech muttered, relieved that he had not been caught by a monster, but irritated since he had been found, and allowed Roinder, though reluctantly, to take him back to the nest.
“Oh, by The Lunar, Leech!” his mother cried, “You had me terrified! I thought something had happened to you!”
“It’s all right, Mother,” Leech assured her, “Roinder said it’s not Dark Zenith tonight. That means no monsters!”
“I knew it,” she sniped at her older son, “I knew you’d been telling him horrid stories! What if there were crocodiles in the copse, hmm? Because it’s not Dark Zenith, Leech would probably think he was safe!”
“No,” Leech butted in, “I…”
“Mother, there are no crocodiles here,” Roinder said gently, “not in the swamp.”
“I used them as an example,” she retorted, “he could have been lost! Left to die of hunger, or worse, taken by Pterosaurs!”
She heaved a sigh and looked down at her young son.
“You should have learned by now,” she said quietly to Leech, “that an inquisitive temperament can be fatal. You all know what happened to your father after he followed his curiosity. That’s the trouble, Leech. You seem to have inherited it. One of these days it’ll cause you great problems, I can tell you that now.” She looked to Roinder. “Right, I’m going off to get some food for the littl’uns. I’d be obliged if you’d stay and watch them Roinder,” she added, “but if I hear you’ve been telling them stories again…”
“I won’t Mother,” Roinder replied, “I never have. It’s-“
“Just watch them until I get back, I’ll be as quick as I can.” With that, she disappeared down towards the swamp, as The Light Kalm faded into the pre-Lunar-zenith.
“-Thorne,” Roinder finished. He glared down at Leech who cowered in his shadow. “Great,” he growled, “now I’m lumped with baby-sitting duty, no thanks to you. Why do you have to keep running off like that?”
Leech was about to make an excuse for himself when a dark shadow alighted on a nearby rock. Leech’s three sisters, who were in the nest with him, shrank down upon the bedding of leaves and ferns, and Leech himself stiffened.
“You make a fine wet nurse, Roinder”, the shadow said in an icy voice.
“Go away,” the other snapped, “you’re positively the last dinosaur I want to speak to right now. It’s because of you , Thorne, and your pathetic made up stories, that my little brother keeps running off – and I get blamed for it!”
Thorne laughed softly.
“Made up are they? Then how do you explain the shortage of mammals in the copse, when no one hunts in there? And also why does no one hunt in there?”
“Stop it, Thorne,” Roinder glared, “I only said that to Leech because he was scared – I don’t believe in all that claptrap. And no one hunts in the copse because there are too many mosquitoes in there. Did you see Squit come out of there the other pre-zenith? He was covered in bites from head to foot!”
“Say what you like,” Thorne said nastily, “there’s still a shortage of mammals in there.”
“Tell me about some other monsters, Thorne!” Leech piped up, “Please!”
“You shut up, Leech,” his brother growled, “I don’t want you getting any more stupid ideas into your head. I’ll get blamed!”
“Very well,” Thorne smirked, ignoring him, a sadistic glint in his dangerous eyes, “there are tales of another species of monster that I’ve heard. No one has actually seen one and lived to tell about it. Rumours are, that they’re like ghosts, and just as silent.”
Leech’s sisters cringed, one of them covered her ears, but Leech remained fascinated. Roinder turned away in utter distaste.
“It’s said,” Thorne continued, “that they just appear out of the shadows, and close in on their helpless victims. They have high-pitched screams, and when they sense fear, they make a strange purring noise. When they’re ripped their victims to pieces, they skin them, and hang their hide on a tree as an example to others who trespass on their territory during Dark Zenith.”
“Wow,” Leech breathed, “do you think they’re the ones who’re killing all the mammals in the copse?”
“No,” Thorne grinned nastily, “they attack much larger creatures; I heard they brought down a Nemegtosaur in the blink of an eye. They say they live further north, in the huge jungles, where there’s plenty of prey.”
“A load of rubbish!” Roinder dismissed it all, “where do you get these stories, Thorne? From someone who drank a bit too much swamp water?”
“What do you think’s killing all the mammals?” Leech asked Thorne, both blood-drinkers deaf to the other’s remark.
“I don’t think,” the other replied, “I know what’s killing all the mammals.”
Roinder groaned and rolled his eyes, giving his three younger sisters a here we go again look.
“What kind of monster is it?” Leech queried enthusiastically, “is it the one with the poisonus barb on its tail, or the one that could scoff a whole herd of Sauropods at a lick?”
“No, this one is bigger, with razor-sharp fangs, and a roar that could shatter every heart on this side of The Sky Mirror. It lives in the trench in the copse.”
“Really? Why doesn’t it come out?”
“Any source of light kills it,” Thorne told him, “even that of The Lunar. It has to stay in the trench in the copse, there’s too little shadow elsewhere. But it’s probably dying,” he added, “mammals aren’t enough of a diet for it, not at that size.”
“So it’s not dangerous, you know, if it’s dying?” the hatchling asked.
“No, not unless you go right up to the edge of the trench.”
“Okay.”
“I hope at least you lot have ignored that entire conversation,” Roinder muttered to his sisters, “just a load of claptrap. All of it.”
For a moment there was silence, save for the hum of insects and the buzz of gnats down by the swamp. The air was still and warm, and high above the last few stars emerged, burning through the cloak of night that had drifted overhead. The Lunar was low in the sky, and not a cloud was in sight. Then they heard footsteps. Thorne licked his lips as he smelt blood, and he stepped back into the shadows. Leech’s mother advanced, carrying two dead mammals.
“Here you go, my little ones,” she said kindly, depositing one of the kills in the nest for her young. They writhed and wriggled like snakes as they clambered over one another, each attempting to grab the kill and keep the sweet meat all to themselves. Leech did not follow his sisters, instead he turned to look back at the copse.
“Here you are, Roinder.” The mother handed her eldest son the other mammal. “Thank you for watching them…oh, pre-zenith, Thorne,” she greeted, yet with a touch of ice in her voice as she noticed the shadow standing there. Thorne grunted and gave a faint nod to show he had heard, but did not return the greeting.
“You can go now, Roinder,” she murmured, not taking her eyes off Thorne. Roinder frowned.
“Don’t you want any food, Mother? I’ll go and get some more mammals, if you want.”
“No, I’m all right. I’m not really hungry, and anyway, I’ve got to keep my eye on Leech…” she stopped short. There was something wrong, something wrong with the hatchlings in her nest, but she could not put her finger on what it was. Then she fumed as she realised that there were only female hatchlings in the nest (she could not count the number of hatchlings to check) and that Leech was gone.
“I don’t believe it!” she cried, “He’s disappeared again!” She snatched the mammal out of Roinder’s claws, “Some baby-sitter you are! Leech has run off again!”
“But he was here just a minute ago!” Roinder protested. He glared across at Thorne.
“You!” He snarled, “he’s run off to find that beast in the trench, hasn’t he? I knew it! Come on, this is all your fault! You’re going to help look too! Leech!” he bawled, spotting something wriggle away into the bushes on the edge of the copse, “Leech!”
*
“Where on Earth is the trench?” Leech thought to himself as he darted through the foliage, picking his way through prickly bushes and shrubs. He just had to get there. He just had to see the monster before it died. That would be a discovery. Thorne said it would not attack him unless he went right up to the edge of the ditch; if the monster was indeed that big, Leech felt he would not need to go too close in order to see it.
Approaching familiar ground, Leech stopped again to catch his breath, and then realised he had been too hasty. It was not a Dark Zenith tonight, therefore the monster would not be there. He cursed his luck; when he was found, they would surely realise his purpose for going in here, and at the next Dark Zenith, they would keep an uninterrupted watch on him. By the Dark Zenith after that, the monster would be dead, and would have shrivelled away into nothing, so Leech would never get a chance to see it.
Well, I might as well make the most of exploring, anyway, Leech thought, and continued to dash through the undergrowth.
Not far behind him he could hear his brother and mother calling him. Leech ignored their insistent cries, and trekked deeper into the copse. The surrounding foliage seemed to stretch away forever, and once again the trees towered above and loomed over him threateningly. Leech did his best to pay them no attention, but still he felt vulnerable. He crashed through the bushes and shrubs, paying no heed to the tears engraved in his tender flesh by their prickles. He halted for another rest – battling through hedges was exhausting – once he was sure Roinder and his mother were out of earshot. His panting was hoarse and exceptionally loud, but it was then that Leech heard the noise.
It was a low panting, one that accompanied his own. It was softer than the wind, a crackled and choked sound, backed by a deep, rumbling growl, like a harsh purr. Leech held his breath and listened intently. He was not imagining it, there was certainly some kind of breathing, coming from beyond the trees up ahead. A million fears flashed through the hatchling’s mind.
Suppose it was one of those ghosts, the ones that flayed their victims? The breathing was backed by a sort of purr, was it one of them? No, as Thorne had said, the copse was too small for them to ‘haunt’, as was the prey in the copse. It was not a Dark Zenith tonight, no monsters, so what could it be?
Leech edged closer, and then froze like a statue of ice. There was something moving beyond the trees.
Something big.
The silhouette rose, as if out of the earth, and stopped about eight feet above the ground. It look Leech a few moments to realise it was a head, attached to a muscly neck that protruded from the ground. Then the realisation dawned on him.
Up ahead was the trench. The head was rising out of it.
It was a large, boxy head, about four feet long, with a colossal pair of jaws, and sharp serrated teeth. A tiny, limp tongue waved idly as the creature yawned, opening its jaws wide, and releasing a vile stench that almost knocked Leech off his feet. It was a nauseating smell of stale blood, death and decaying meat. Gnats whirred in dark clouds around the creature’s mouth, and then the head ducked down below the line of trees once more.
Then it was the monster, Leech thought, Thorne must be wrong, this thing must live here all the time, and not just at Dark Zenith. The hatchling gulped. If Thorne had been wrong about this one only emerging at Dark Zenith, who was to say he was not wrong about the others? Leech swallowed nervously, as the thought of the monster with the barbed, poisonous tail, and the one that could lick up a whole herd of Sauropods in an instant, being in the copse with him, crossed his mind.
There came a low grunt from the trench, but before the monster’s head reappeared, Leech was off, like a bullet shot from a gun, back to tell Thorne and Roinder what he had seen. He ran into a large shape as he bolted, and cried out in fear. He looked up to see Thorne staring down at him.
“The…the monster…” Leech gasped as he fought for his breath, “the…the one in the trench…it’s there! It’s there right now! I saw it!”
Thorne did not answer, and Leech was about to reinforce the news when Roinder approached. At first he did not see his younger brother crouched in the ferns before Thorne.
“He must be here somewhere,” he said, “where’s the…Leech!” he cried, having spotted him, “You idiot! Why did you run off like that? You’re in for it now!”
“We’re all in for it!” Leech interjected, “The monster’s in the trench! I saw his head! He was huge! And he looks hungry! Come on, I’ll show you if you don’t believe me!” and before Roinder could make a grab for him, Leech had turned and shot off in the other direction, calling for them to follow.
“By The Lunar…” Roinder spat, “come on!”
He and Thorne tore after the hatchling, and finally caught up with him. He was beckoning them to follow but to keep quiet, as cringed down in the ferns, opposite the line of trees. Agitated, Roinder ran up to him.
“If this is a joke,” he warned, “or one of your stupid games…”
“Shhh!” Leech hissed, “He’ll hear you! Listen!”
Irritably, Roinder obeyed, and his eyes widened slightly as he heard the breathing of the huge creature. Thorne sauntered up, a smug expression lining his sinister features. He had no need to open his mouth; his eyes said the words I told you so.
“He’s down there,” Leech indicated to Thorne as he advanced. The two older blood-drinkers tiptoed closer to the area beyond the trees, watching for the edge of the ditch.
“Well,” Roinder admitted as he saw a dark shape moving up and down in the trench, “there’s definitely something down there…”
“Of course there is!” Leech insisted, “I saw it!”
Roinder and Thorne moved closer, leaning forward to peer into the ditch. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the thicker blackness in the trench, but once they did, Roinder and Thorne stepped back and stifled a gasp.
Below them, in the shadows, lay the largest dinosaur Roinder had ever seen. It was about twenty five to thirty five feet long, and about fifteen feet high, perhaps less. The sharp teeth told them it was a carnivore. Its large boxy head was pressed against the wall of the trench, and the rest of the body was twisted at rather awkward angles. In the darkness they could only just make out small brown stripes running down along its spine, like a meerkat. Its skin was pebbly, like a rugby ball, and it had two spindly forearms curled up like shrimps against is broad chest.
Roinder turned to Thorne, satisfied.
“That’s no monster,” he muttered. Then a tiny flap of skin, on the side of the large dinosaur’s head, retracted as its eye flicked open. It was dark red, almost black, with a large slit-like pupil down the middle, like those of the blood-drinkers, only slightly more serpentine.
Leech, who had crept up for a better look, was disappointed it was no monster, but struck dumb with awe by its size just the same. Neither he or Roinder had ever seen such a big carnivore; the big meat-eaters tended to live on plains, in forests or in thorn scrub, where more prey was abundant, and so they never realised that carnivores bigger than themselves existed. They knew of large herbivores, but had only glimpsed Sauropods in the distance, so they had no idea how big other dinosaurs could be until they were up close to one.
When its eye opened, Roinder and Leech gasped with fright and stepped back, but Thorne, who had encountered such beasts before, stood his ground; obviously this specimen was injured or weak from lack of food, otherwise it would have attacked the whole colony for meat by now. He gazed down at the carnivore, and in a cold voice, recited in the universal language of Dinosauria*:
“Reveal to me thy name,
Are you creation of dark or of flame?
Be you child of Lunar, you carry my blood,
Be you child of Solar, I shall drain your heart’s blood.”
The carnivore stared dismally up at Thorne, and replied in a weak and pained voice in Dinosauria:
“Injure me not, I am no child of flame,
I was created when the darkness came,
I carry the blood of a Lunar child,
So your heart and mine shall be reconciled.”
Leech and Roinder watched this ritual with fascination. Roinder had learned from Thorne that it was one of the few safe ways to establish respect with other species of carnivore.
“What is it?” Roinder breathed.
“It’s a Tarbosaur,” Thorne answered.
* Most dinosaurs, if not all, speak Dinosauria. Some know others besides Dinosauria, which they use amongst themselves; blood-drinkers, though rarely, use Theropoda to speak to one another.
Non-Erotic Dinosaur Fiction 