Colony by Benjamin Cross (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

On impulse, he flipped his knife over, grabbed the back of the blade and flung it with all his might. It spun through the air, heading straight for the centre of the creature’s chest. Any second and the blade would pierce through its ribcage and puncture its heart…

The black birch handle struck the creature’s torso and bounced pathetically backwards. Without stirring, the creature watched with interest as the tiny object tripped down onto the rock, where the blade snapped off with a resounding clunk. Both blade and handle then clattered over the edge of the island and down into the magma.

Slowly, the creature moved its gaze back to Volkov.

He turned and fled. The harrowing sound of the creature’s hiss pursued him, filling his ears as he sprinted back along the bridge of rock. On the perimeter of the magma pit, he could see a huddle of the smaller, less fearsome-looking creatures. Their heads were bowed combatively, their mouths were open and they were screaming out at his approach.

His every instinct was to turn from them, but turn where? They were everywhere, and the nearest tunnel was directly behind the dozen or so ahead of him now. If he wanted out of the nightmare, then this was his best option.

Uncertain how many rounds he had remaining, he grabbed his pistol and prepared to blaze a way through. But before he’d had to fire a shot, a series of staccato roars sounded out behind him and the clot of creatures simply parted to allow him through. The stinking beasts must have thought better of assailing him after all. He allowed himself a smile of relief as he passed between them and bolted on towards the tunnel.

No sooner had he passed the creatures than his smile disappeared. A flash of pain bolted down his right thigh and he felt himself disabled. No longer able to run for the agony, he had no choice but to pull up.

As he turned around, one of the creatures was lowering its hind leg. Blood, his blood, stained its retracted toe claw. He felt a deep sense of horror, which turned quickly to nausea. There was a gash across his buttock, and blood flowed out over his hand and down his trouser leg to join the urine.

In a fit of rage, he took aim at the offending creature and fired. The bullet missed by a mile. The creature didn’t even flinch. By now, his hands were shaking so violently that he knew another shot would be pointless. The creature seemed to know this; it cocked its head and eyed him with something close to pity. Then, to his surprise, it turned its back on him, as did all the others.

Holding a hand over his wound, Volkov limped off into the tunnel.

* * *

Darya looked suddenly very alone.

Still hissing, the creature now reached out and took hold of one of its eggs. With incredible dexterity, it lifted it up, reached across its body and fed it straight into a pouch of skin on the opposite side of its chest. No sooner had it done this than the other arm had reached forward and repeated exactly the same action, sliding a second egg into an opposing pouch.

The effect of its wings, along with its extra bulk, made the creature’s actions appear cumbersome. But it carried out the process of gathering up its clutch with ease. It was a crab-like motion, one arm after another performed in quick succession, the result of millions of years of instinct to protect its unborn offspring. And it took only seconds for all of the eggs to be concealed, spread evenly between the two pouches.

The creature now turned its attention to Darya. Drawing itself up to full height, it dwarfed her. It was at least twice her size, and with its young out of the equation, its behaviour had changed. It was no longer cautious but openly aggressive, its jaws grinding together, leaking drool, its hind claws tapping impatiently at the rock.

Around the cavern, the screeching of the females reached a zenith.

“I think we know what killed your ice mummy,” Ava whispered.

Callum’s mind raced. Tansu Taibaa.

Suddenly it all made sense. The myth was true. The ancient champion had made it to the Land of White Death, and he had hunted down Tansu Taibaa, the lizard bird, now towering over Darya. Armed only with his ski-pole spears, the champion of the Twelve Clans had failed to make good on his boast of killing the creature. But instead of fleeing in terror, he had chosen another course. In some respects a brave one. In other respects much more foolish. And it had sealed his grizzly fate.

Callum’s mind moved to the final pieces of the millennia-old puzzle: the scatter of white fragments, which he had taken for broken pottery, and the little skeleton, which he had taken for that of a bird. How had he not seen it before? They rose up from the floor of the tunnel now, a timeless 3D jigsaw, and repieced themselves before his eyes.

An egg.

Ngana’bta had stolen a Troodon egg. Whether to lure the creature, whether as proof of his journey, whether on pure impulse. His motive was lost to time. But he had paid for it: first with his legs and then with his life, as he’d dragged his mutilated body into the tunnel in a last futile bid to escape.

Callum’s thoughts were interrupted by the creature’s sudden roar. There was now nothing between it and Darya on the island of rock. No eggs. No barrier. Only a few metres of flat, open space.

As it raised its arms and advanced on her, Callum couldn’t wait any longer. Ignoring Ava’s pleas, he jumped to his feet, raced down the slope and out onto the bridge of stone. The silence shattered as the females spotted him and let up a deafening howl. The male saw him too and added its own resounding bellow to the chorus.

3

The male brought its