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William Alan Rieser

Articles
- Genre Difficulties
- Can Anyone Tell the Time?
- An Appreciation of Tolkien
- On the Eerie Uncertainty of AI
- On the Effrontery of Wonder Women
- On the Brevity of Behemoths
- On The Infinite Endurance of Some Bogeymen
- On the Need for Effective Fantasy
- On the Insufferability of Druidom
- Viewing the Icons
- That's the Way It Used To Be

Short Stories
- Token of Esteem
- Modal Sojourn

Book Excerpts
- The Kaska Trilogy - Gam
- The Kaska Trilogy - Pmat
- The Kaska Trilogy - Kesht
- The Chronicles of Zusalem - Pathandu
- The Chronicles of Zusalem - The Find
- Luna Parabella
- Furnace

The Kaska Trilogy - Gam (Book Excerpt)
         by William Alan Rieser
Page 1 of 1

Twenty-five miles southwest of Kaska's mountain the snipes found what they were looking for. It was a herd of buffalo-like creatures sleeping on the plain. Kaska named them trison because of their formidable three horns. The snipes hovered above the unsuspecting herd for some moments before they simultaneously released Asmodeus from their taloned grasp. He plummeted to the plain below, landing among them with a tremendous concussion. The trison were both stunned and frightened as the plain shuddered with the impact.

Once Asmodeus recovered from the shock, he realized he was free of the gambats. He immediately recalled his great hunger and began to key on several of the calves, conveniently nearby as they bleat within the herd. The trison encircled their young and formed a wall between them and their new enemy. Asmodeus' attack was met by a phalanx of upturned horns. A second group of trison, mostly bulls, attacked him from his sides, ramming their horns into his many legs. This was not to his liking. Then a third group began to ram his middle segments. He caught one and crushed it in his mandibles, flinging the carcass high above them. Then he killed one that got too close to his pincers and ingested it because it had damaged one of his legs. Unfortunately, there was no time for him to savor its taste.

Singly, the trison had no chance against him, but the combined defense and attack of such a multitude was more than even he could manage, massive as he was. He turned to flee their pestering horns and inspired the trison to greater and more aggressive efforts. They would not stop ramming him. He fled south for several miles, the trison persisting and bloodying his legs while attempting to crack his plates. He would stop to kill a few, ripping them apart in his jaws, but more would arrive to continue the attack. Finally, he just ran with the legs he had remaining to him. He reached a stream and burrowed his way into the soft, healing soils of its bank, far underground where he would stay for some time. The plains littered with their dead, the trison returned to the herd.





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