Cave Lion

From the depths of the shadowed cliff, the beast we had long feared emerged at last. Arwa, uncertain of what to do, grasped my hand with desperate strength, her fingers cold as the breath of the coming night. And then, face to face, we stood before the ancient crone. Arwa's face had turned pallid, drained of all colour, as though the life within her had begun to ebb.

Before us, the monstrous creature loomed—a being vast as the great lions of legend, yet more terrible in stature. It was the largest living thing I had ever beheld. Its fur, a shifting canvas of grey and gold, was marred with dark spots, as though the night sky itself had been scattered upon its hide. But its most fearsome trait, the thing which marked it as a true harbinger of death, was its upper fangs—two great blades of bone, capable of rending flesh and ending life within mere moments.

It was, beyond all doubt, the very creature of which Daneel had spoken—the sabre-toothed cave lion of old. If only I had asked him more, if only I had sought wisdom before venturing forth, perhaps then I might have found a way to escape this dire fate. But no such knowledge was mine to wield, and now, it was far too late to learn. Fear took hold of me, and though time itself seemed to falter, it was not in my favour. Every second dragged on as though the world had slowed, yet still, death crept ever closer.

Then, with a suddenness that left me breathless, Arwa released my hand and stepped before me, pushing me back. The motion startled me, for it was done without hesitation. In that instant, the beast turned its gaze upon her, its attention ensnared. She was offering herself in my place, shielding me with her own life.

This, I could never permit.

"Siri," I called out, my voice edged with desperation, "do you have any means by which we may escape this fate?"

"When confronted with a sabre-toothed cave lion, it is advisable that the host flee while the prey is engaged," came the cold, mechanical reply, devoid of humanity.

Anger flared within me. "Siri, I refuse to leave anyone behind. Offer no such counsel again. Instead, find a way by which we both might survive."

"Understood. Your command has been acknowledged. No alternative solution is presently available."

Siri's words were of no comfort. Hope withered within me, and the shadow of despair loomed ever greater. Yet I knew, I had to think. "Think, Alek, think!" I commanded myself. The answer lay in the question itself. How could we flee the beast? Impossible. It was swifter than either of us, and we would surely be caught. How could we defeat it? No, the creature was mightier than I could ever hope to be. That was folly. How, then, could we drive it away? Ah! Now, that was a worthy question. If only I could find the answer in time! But time was not on my side.

The beast shifted, lowering its powerful forelimbs, muscles coiling in preparation to strike. Arwa did not move. She had accepted her end.

"Damn it, Whaley!" I cursed under my breath, and then—Eureka!

A revelation struck me like a bolt of lightning. Every day, lives were lost, but today would not be such a day. This was not our appointed hour.

"Siri, search the databanks for recordings of Whaley's voice and transmit them directly to my mind. Let them repeat without cease."

"Command acknowledged," Siri responded, and though its tone was unchanging, I could have sworn I detected the faintest trace of satisfaction.

Whaley's voice began to echo within my mind, over and over, a rhythm both ancient and mighty. Now, it was time to act.

Swiftly, I moved to Arwa's side, grasping her hand in mine. With deliberate motion, I raised my right arm, ensuring she did the same. The first step of my plan had been set in motion—now, for the second. I began to mimic the voice resounding in my mind, shaping my lips around the primordial cadence, summoning forth a sound as old as the mountains themselves.

The cavern lion hesitated.

A single, tentative step forward, then another. Its growl fractured into uneven bursts of sound. It did not understand what it heard, nor could it counter the power within it. I had never before encountered a sound as fearsome as Whaley's, nor one so steeped in unspoken sorrow.

"Forgive me, little cat," I murmured, "but there exist terrors in this world far greater than you."

I turned towards Arwa, smiling. She stood, eyes wide, caught in the spell of the sound I had conjured. Even she, for a moment, seemed afraid.

The beast roared, louder now, its frustration mounting. I responded in kind, my voice weaving the dark melody anew, syllables that carried neither meaning nor logic, yet rang with undeniable weight. Words unspoken yet known, etching grief into the very air itself.

Ah, Whaley, what was it you wished to tell me?

And then, impossibly, the beast bowed its head. Its fur bristled, standing on end, and with one final bound, it vanished into the abyss from whence it had come.

We had won.

Arwa turned to me, her expression unreadable. She opened her mouth as if to speak, yet words failed her. And then, without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around me. For a time, we remained thus, until at last she pulled away, her hands clasped around mine, her gaze meeting mine in silent understanding.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and when she spoke, her voice trembled.

"The words that left your lips—they were magic. Though I know not their meaning, they stir something within me. They remind me of my mother, my father, long since gone. A sorrow as deep as the earth itself now dwells within me, and yet... and yet I miss what I have never heard before. Tell me, my child, from whence comes this voice of power? In the name of Tarhun-Tata, who are you?