Child of Thunder (Chapter One)

"Child of Thunder"

Chapter One: Worlds of Storm

You may think being a part of the wildest show in the west might make for an exciting life, but through my thirteen years I had learned to grow bored with everything about it. I sat atop a wagon piled high with supplies and equipment, hauled along the endless prairie by four broad-shouldered oxen. They were enormous beasts of burden that to my young eyes were surely as great as dinosaurs from the history books my mother insisted I study.

I was sprawled upon a dingy brown tarp that had represented home for all my life. I watched from the caboose of a wagon train that had weathered wind, rain, sleet and snow, fog, and even sand to deliver a performance that had been lauded as one of the best rodeos in America. "Rex Rennington is perhaps Buffalo Bill's only true rival," they said.

Rex Rennington, my father.

He would be on the opposite end of our merry caravan, leading the way across that infinite sea of green grasses. I'd learned to hate how the plains stretched to every horizon, probably going all the way to the edges of the world. I was idly convinced that the grass I looked at on my right was related to the grass on my left, not because they were so close but because all the world was wrapped in continuous prairie.

I let myself plop forward onto my stomach, uninterested in both the world around me, and the worlds of thought ruffling through my mind. Slater Portkey, one of the clowns, let his horse slow enough to draw even with my perch atop that supply cart.

As I heaved a sigh, he spoke. The clown's voice startled me, even though I'd been expecting it, having seen Slater coming out of the corner of my eye. "You feelin' all right, Master Riley?" The clown's quiet rasp startled me because the man was famous for the rarity of his words. If words were as precious as gold, to be stored up and saved like a dragon's treasure, then Slater Portkey would be the envy of all his dragon friends.

"There's a storm brewin' out there," he continued, waving a hand at the northern sky. "Don't feel right, don't feel right at all." I raised my head and took a glance for myself. He wasn't kidding. Tall purple thunderheads were gathering like grumbling bison, ready to conquer the infinite prairie.

I nodded, grunting noncommittally. I didn't like any of the clowns, and Slater Portkey was my least favorite clown of them all. I buried my head in my arms and waited, hoping he would go away. When I took a peek, once more from the edge of my vision, he was gone.

I raised my head and took a look around. The storm had crept a bit closer. On the rolling hills beneath it I noted a little black speck I hadn't seen before. It was something like a rock, only its surface seemed to ripple in the wind, as if it had overgrown with grass like the land all about it.

And then the creature, for that was what it was, turned its great shaggy head. Perhaps it was regarding our caravan. As I watched, the dignified beast stretched one enormous hoof and pressed it to the dirt, seemingly attempting to stand. It's unsuccessful efforts made me wonder if it was injured.

I looked to the west, the direction we were headed. There sat Old Gustav, a German man as ancient as his name implied, at the front of the wagon. He was clucking his tongue at those four brawny oxen pulling us along.

I slithered backwards and fell with a jolt from the back of the wagon, landing in between two wheel ruts. The caravan rambled on, heedless of my escape.

That animal... I wanted to see it.

Close up.

I would be back before my mother and father ever knew a thing. I slipped off my shoes, reveling in the feel of the soft fronds slipping like whispers between my toes. I ran quickly, hurrying to see the monster that had caught my attention.

We'd been traversing a rise in the land, which dipped to the north into a little depression. When I grew near enough that I was walking downhill, I saw more of the creature. It was bigger even than an ox, with a wise head crowned by two small horns. I could tell that even sitting it was taller than I.

A bison.

Standing there with shoes dangling in my hand, I was tempted to think myself a fool, having run away for something that roamed the world in enormous herds. But there was something different about this particular bison. Firstly, it seemed far bigger than the ones I'd seen before. And second, it looked like it was regarding me with uncommon intelligence, a look I'd never seen among my childhood friends, only my elders.

Certainly not a bison.

As I neared, the animal took another stab at rising. This time, it was almost successful before it stumbled back to the earth with a mighty crash. I walked a bit closer, feeling courageous in spite of the monster's titanic size. It was this daring that allowed me to spy a bloody gash in the bison's flank.

I took another step closer, letting my shoes fall to the ground. There was blood spattered about. Apparently the monster had been quite seriously injured. The bison stared at me, then lowered its head as if resigned to a terrible fate. It didn't seemed to care one bit about my arrival.

More brazen by the second, I leaned in to inspect the wound that was troubling the bison. There seemed to be something stuck in its side. Something sharp and bone white. I grasped it with both hands and yanked it free.

At once the bison's entire body trembled. A flow of blood began to gush out, released by my thoughtless prying. I dropped the object that had stuck the bison and tore off my shirt, using the garment to staunch the wicked laceration.

I could feel a bit of a heartbeat beneath my hands, but it didn't take long to fade away. The wound seemed to have healed. I let my ruined shirt drop as heedlessly as I'd let my shoes go. When it fell, I noticed the sharp something lay glowing in the dirt and blood next to it.

It was an enormous claw, as long as my hand. It looked like something a dinosaur would pick its teeth with. No wonder the bison had been laying so helpless. The claw had a subtle blue glow when I picked it up, but it faded in my hands. The creature was rousing itself now, getting ready to stand. I found myself eying the heft of its shaggy shoulders and feeling wild.

I wanted to ride it. Was that odd?

The bison stood, and then turned so that we were face to face, its great brown eyes staring deep into mine. The creature lowered its head, tucking it momentarily behind one forelimb. An approximation of a humble bow, it seemed to me.

Then, as if this were not strange enough, the bison did something even stranger. It nuzzled my chest, then turned and knelt in the dirt again. Now I was facing the beast from the side. It nudged me a bit with its nose again, as if prodding me to climb onto its back. Could this be? It really wanted to let me mount its back?

Preparing myself mentally, I slipped the claw into my pants pocket. I didn't want to allow any second thoughts to creep in, so I leaped onto its back and hauled myself up, digging both hands into that thick brown fur. The bison hardly seemed to mind my weight, as if young boys taking it for a ride was as common as you please.

The monstrous creature stood, making me feel as though I'd mounted a true giant. Perhaps an elephant, or a whale more than some mere cow-like brute. One hoof churned at the dirt for a moment before the bison took off, quick as a pistol shot across the land.

Out of the world I'd known we ran, straight into the worlds of storm waiting on the Northern horizon.

---

I clung with a vicegrip to the back of the bison as it tore across the plains. We moved with such speed the wind burned my eyes and ruffled my hair. I had never experienced anything like it. The bounding gait of the bison was a rhythm unto itself that I quickly adapted to.

In the back of my mind, a little niggling doubt told me I ought to be worried about my parents, and everything I'd left behind, but I couldn't think about anything but the next hillock coming up. The infinite prairie rose in dark, bounding curves like ocean waves in the rapidly expanding night.

We came to the top of another rise and I could see below us a herd of wild bison roaming and grazing, heedless of the storm growling overhead. My bison slowed, ambling at a much slower pace. I didn't understand this at all. I wanted to fly again. I was caught up in the rush I'd just experienced and I wasn't read for my adventure to end just yet.

The bison began to move among the herd, and I remained sprawled on its back. It seemed as though it was trying to talk to the others of its kind, but it was clearly getting nowhere. Not a single one of the bison seemed particularly interested in its frantic head shakery and nearly comical mewling.

Finally as fat raindrops began to plop to the earth around us, my bison steed gave up its attempts to communicate and continued north once more. I shivered as water began to pelt my back, chillingly cold against my bare skin.

The land undulated no more. Instead it stretched flat as a tabletop. The bison moved slowly at first, then began to increase in speed. We hadn't gone far however when a little pool of water appeared not far ahead of us. It looked odd, however. Not like a pond at all but more like a hole punched into the earth and filled with blackness. It looked dark and deep as a cavern leading to the center of the Earth. If I hadn't seen water rippling at its surface I would never have taken it for water at all.

The bison didn't slow or hesitate a bit. It increased our speed and coiled its mighty legs as if preparing for a jump. I expected it to leap right over the pool but instead we landed right in its center.

We sank like coins in a wishing well, for apparently there was no bottom to this strange tarn. I floundered, trying to cling tight to the bison's wet fur. I found no purchase and lost all sight of the creature as we slid deeper. It was all I could do to hold my breath. This was not normal water, I was certain of that. It made my skin buzz strangely like electricity, only it wasn't painful at all.

I could see nothing in the blackness at first, but as I fought against my empty lungs, bright spots began to dance before my eyes, cavorting through the dark like shards of sunlight. Then they began to transform into far stranger shapes. I saw ghoulish specters, pigeons on a church rooftop, and ladies dancing. I saw a bear dressed like a man, and an deer-like creature holding a sword.

Last of all I saw my mother, tenderly singing me a lullaby when I was ill once long ago. I opened my mouth for air, but I never tasted either oxygen or water, for I blacked out in that exact instant.