The Mantooth | Page 3

do
the same.
Unfortunately, he was wrong. Emerging from the darkness the nightmare took a shape.
Raising itself stiff and hunchbacked to the top of a massive, sunlit boulder, it took flesh
as an enormous reptilian carnivore, like a tiny lizard slowed, and swelled to immense
proportions. Throwback to the rock-climbing monsters of an age long forgotten, it moved
among the lesser stones with terrifying grace. Desperate beyond words, Kalus began
searching wildly for shelter.
His efforts were not in vain. Coming to a crumpled shelf jutting out of the rockface, he
spied a small opening just ahead and to his right, and with the giant reptile just a few
short yards behind, rushed headlong and breathless into the welcome shadows of a small
cave.
But the danger was not yet passed. Though unable to fit the whole of its body into the
small enclosure, the lizard was not so easily defeated. Forcing its head into the mouth of
the cave it shot forth a long, snake-like tongue, hoping to catch the man-beast as a frog
might capture a fly. After several narrow misses, Kalus realized that his only hope was to
delve deeper into the ever-increasing darkness of the cave. His eyes not yet accustomed
to the failing light he moved cautiously, not wishing to exchange the present danger for
that of a blind fall. Feeling his way slowly along the grainy, lichen-covered walls, he tried
to be certain of each advancing step.
But in spite of all his caution he slipped, and found himself plummeting downward
through illusory darkness, a silent scream ringing in his ears. Seconds later he landed
abruptly. His last thoughts before losing consciousness were that something must have
broken his fall. For he had dropped a considerable distance through the blackness of an
underground shaft, and knew that by all reason he should have been killed.
*
Hours passed, as the Mantooth's subconscious struggled to keep him alive. A severe blow
to the back of the head had brought him to the point of death, and only sheer desire and a
tireless will to survive could save him now. Such was a daily occurrence in the
Valley---nature's way of separating the weak from the strong.
But Kalus had always lived up to such trials in the past, and this was to be no exception.
Fighting his way back to consciousness, he opened his eyes to find himself lying on his
back in a bed of cool moss covered with furs, his wounds being treated by the soothing

hands of a woman-child. Raising himself weakly, he turned as if in a dream to look upon
the face of his redeemer.
She was, without question, the most desirable female he had ever seen. Young and fair,
her sun-streaked hair and gold-flecked green eyes were highlighted and contrasted by
skin of bronze and trinkets of silver. Her muscles were smooth and round; the outline of
her breasts showed full beneath a woven garment the likes of which he had never seen.
Her raiment, indeed her very face tones and gestures, appeared to him strange and exotic,
and it seemed apparent that she had come from a land far away. Using simplified gestures,
he tried to ask her who she was, and what hidden passage it was that he had found. For he
sensed that he was still deep underground, and was puzzled by the dancing firelight and
warmth all around him.
'Not now,' she whispered softly.
Giving him water from a clay vessel, she motioned for him to lie back and rest. Though
he still had many questions he obeyed willingly, knowing that his strength was all but
gone. Lying back painfully he tried, and finally succeeded, in falling asleep.
The girl remained beside him on the covered lip of rock that formed her bed, looking up
at the shaft and wondering at the impossible coincidence. She reached out once, as if to
touch his brow, but drew back the hand when she saw that it was trembling. She gazed at
him thoughtful and misty-eyed, wondering.

Chapter 3
Kalus had slept poorly, dreaming of lizards and spiders, and for several terrifying
moments after first awakening, could not determine where the dreams ended and reality
began. Sylviana had watched his troubled sleep, and tried to wake him gently when his
limbs began to tremble.
But the girl, gifted from birth with the power of speech, could not begin to understand the
anguish that a mind without words was subjected to at such a time. There could be no
gentle self-reassurances, no soothing thoughts or voice of comfort from within. Only her
presence, and the apparent safety of the chamber, helped bring him back slowly from the
wordless world of darkness and terror in which his spirit seemed to