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full of arrows.
It wouldn t do you any good, Knucker assured him.
Why not? More insulted than injured by the cone, the swordsman spoke without
taking his eyes from the branches overhead. I m a pretty good hand with a
bow. What are these groats, anyway?
Small furry creatures that live in the treetops in forests like these.
Holding his hands out in front of him, Knucker aligned the open palms about
three feet apart. They have long tails and feet that can grip branches as
strongly as hands, in the manner of monkeys, but their faces are like those of
insects, hard and with strangely patterned eyes.
Ehomba hopped clear of a falling cone nearly the size of his head that he was
fortunate to spot on the way down. It hit the ground with a weighty thump that
held the potential for serious injury. As the bombardment continued and the
first small cones gave way to far larger woody projectiles, the situation
began to deteriorate from merely bothersome to potentially serious.
I have good eyes and I have been looking for a long time, the herdsman
replied, and still I see nothing like what you describe.
Knucker s expression turned serious. That s because the fur of the groat is
invisible. You have to look for their eyes, which is the only part of them
that reflects light.
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Into the Thinking Kingdoms: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 2
Searching for three-foot-long furry creatures ambling through the treetops was
one thing. Hunting only for isolated eyes was far more difficult. A cone that
could have knocked a man unconscious struck
Ahlitah squarely on his head, provoking a roar that shook the needles of the
surrounding trees. It did not intimidate the unseen groats, who continued to
rain cones down on the hapless intruders at an ever-
increasing rate.
More cones suggested the presence of more groats. While this made the
travelers situation more perilous, it also improved the opportunities for
detecting the elusive creatures. Moments after he executed an elegant if
forced little dance that enabled him to dodge half a dozen falling cones,
Simna stabbed an arm skyward.
There! By that big branch thrusting to the east from this tree next to us.
There s one! Reflexively, he fingered the hilt of his sword. The large
compound eyes of the otherwise invisible arboreal tormentor glistened in the
afternoon light. No accusatory chattering came from the creature or from any
of its companions. The barrage of cones was being carried out in complete
silence.
Simna was not silent, however. Ill equipped to deal with an attack from above,
he was reduced to screaming imprecations at their unseen adversaries.
Unsurprisingly, this had no effect on the volume of cones being dropped upon
him and his friends.
By this time they had broken into a run. Their progress was made difficult
because they had to keep more or less to the trail as located by Knucker while
avoiding not only the falling cones but also the dense mass of trees.
Straining to pick out eye reflections in the branches overhead, Ehomba struck
one smaller tree a glancing blow with his shoulder. While trying to determine
the extent of the resultant bruise, he was hit by two smaller cones launched
from above. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself away from the tree trunk and
ran on.
These groats! he yelled at Knucker, who was having a hard time keeping up
with the pace. What would they do if they killed us? Eat us?
Oh no, the wheezing little man assured him. They d just make sure we were
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dead and then go away.
They only want their forest back. As I said, they don t like visitors.
Can t they tell that we re trying to leave as fast as we can? Raising a hand
over his head, the swordsman warded off a cluster of small cones. Despite
their moderate size, they still stung when hurled from a considerable height.
They probably can t. Knucker was gasping for air now. It was clear to Ehomba
that their new companion would not be able to keep up for much longer.
Something had to be done. But what? How did one fight an opponent beyond reach
and impossible to see except for its eyes?
Simna thought he had the solution. Do something, Etjole! Blast them out of
the treetops, turn them into
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Into the Thinking Kingdoms: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 2
newts, call up a spell that will bring them crashing down from the branches
like stones!
How many times do I have to tell you, Simna I am not a sorcerer! I can make
some use only of what wiser ones have given to me. Looking up, he dodged to
the right just in time to avoid a pinecone as big as a beer tankard, and
almost as heavy.
Hoy, then use the sky-metal sword! Call up the wind from between the stars
and blow them clear out of the woods!
I do not think that would be wise. The wind that rushes between the stars is
not a thing to be trifled with. You do not bring it down to earth every time
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