Colony by Benjamin Cross (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📗

water would finish him off in minutes. That was if he wasn’t immediately ripped to shreds by those things.

He lay his head back down. It was time to accept that it was game over.

“Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, Nam Myoho Renge Kyo…”

Chapter 15 Chamber 2

1

The creature took a step towards Callum, stopped and cocked its head. With deliberate poise, it leant forward as if in mid-bow, then parted its arms and puffed out its feathers. The long plumes on the undersides of its arms, and those remaining along its nape, stood erect. Its tail lifted until visible above its shoulder, and the feathers adorning the tip fanned out and quivered. The shorter plumes across the rest of its body seemed to shimmer, creating a silvery white blur that mirrored the surrounding mist.

There was something mesmerising about the display. It was the first time that the creature’s eyes, mouth and claws hadn’t been the focus of Callum’s attention. For the briefest of moments, he felt his panic recede. He was looking through his fear, seeing something as vulnerable as it was fearsome.

But his feelings were short-lived, as the creature’s head began to bob rhythmically, its jaws chomping together in time. Seconds crept by, and the creature maintained its stance. It appeared to be in a trance; head bobbing, teeth grinding, harp-strings of saliva now trailing from its chin. Why did it not attack?

Callum took a tentative step backwards. At this, the creature stopped its posturing. Its feathers flattened out and it raised itself back up to full height. Vocalising a series of loud clicks, it advanced another step.

“What does it do?” Darya whispered over his shoulder.

“I think it’s playing with us.”

She peered up just as the creature bowed once again, brought its arms apart and raised its plumage. This time its feathers flushed with colour. The white became an amber glow, spreading in veins from the base follicles to the very tips of its erect feathers. The amber then intensified, becoming a deep red inflammation that seemed to scorch the surrounding mist.

On impulse, Callum retreated another step.

Again the creature was sensitive to his movement. With an agitated bray it followed.

One step.

Darya’s voice drifted through to him. “You are wrong.”

“What?”

“You are wrong,” she repeated. “It is not playing with us.”

“Then what?”

“I think it is challenge you.”

On cue, the creature bowed its head and repeated its colourful display: white, silver, amber, red.

“Challenging me?”

“To fight. It sees you as rival male.”

Callum’s mind raced at the suggestion. As unlikely as it sounded, it actually made sense. If the creature could remember him, then it would remember that he had won their last encounter. He had proven himself a worthy adversary, and now… now it wanted a rematch, complete with formalities.

“What do I do?”

“There is only one thing,” she replied. “You must win.”

“Win? Win how? That thing could tear me to shreds!”

“Yes,” Darya replied. “But this is not physical fight. Not yet.”

There was a silence, as Callum searched desperately for a solution.

Then something dug into the side of his ribs. “Take these.”

He reached backwards and took hold of the objects in Darya’s hand. Without looking he could tell that they were the two remaining glow sticks.

“But…” His mind skipped back to their first encounter with the three little creatures back on the foreshore, when their untempered aggression had marked them out as youngsters; Darya’s words repeated themselves: In the wild, the adult animals will avoid conflict, because of the risk of injury. The adult is more likely to use posture and vocalisation than physical force…

He brought the glow sticks out in front of him, and the creature ceased its display. All colour bleached from its feathers and it stared at the two dull tubes. Its mouth cracked open and it watched intently as Callum brought his shaking hands together and snapped them.

The same high-intensity luminous green light that had illuminated Ngana’bta’s face burst from one of the sticks, while the other produced an intense iridescent blue. Their glow was scattered and reflected in the mist. The suspended water particles enhanced their lustre and produced two wide penumbras of colour that increased their luminosity ten-fold.

The creature snorted at the sight and let out a high-pitched crow. It hopped in agitation from foot to foot, its talons shredding strips of moss from the rock.

“It is working,” Darya said, unable to conceal the surprise in her voice. “You intimidate him.”

Without any semblance of a plan, Callum raised the glow sticks. Despite the cold, his palms were slick as he began to move them slowly, forming sweeping S shapes before him. The pressure was exhausting. His trembling arms felt stiff and his movement uncoordinated. Any second and he was certain that he would drop the sticks, leaving himself and Darya defenceless once more.

The creature looked in confusion from one light to the other, tracing the progress of each as they cut through the moist air. It stood silent and still, hypnotised.

Adrenaline surged through Callum’s veins. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The creature crowed out in alarm but held its ground.

“Move back!” Callum shouted, his voice deep but breathy.

There followed a tense pause. Then the creature moved backwards. One step.

“Move back!” he shouted again, advancing another pace.

This time the creature did not retreat but stood firm and retaliated. With a screech, it rebowed its head, parted its arms and puffed out its plumage. Instead of red, its feathers now turned the same neon green as the one glow-stick, before flushing the blue of the other. The two colours pulsed effortlessly into being, one after the other, as the creature’s head bobbed and the sound of its teeth grating shredded the air.

Callum’s heart sank. Did he really think a couple of glow sticks could intimidate such a lethal prehistoric predator? Maybe. Maybe not. But what option did he have?

Summoning all of his courage, he stepped forward once again. Speeding up the flailing of his arms, and roaring from the bottom of his gut, “Move back! Move back