The Mantle Is Passed

The Dewosaurus grabbed the flaming torch in one enormous hairy paw and indicated Bunyip should follow him into the gaping maw of the cave high in the mist-ridden canyons of Flinders Ranges.

"WE GO IN!" He boomed, the vibration of his voice causing small clumps of earth to fall from the roof.

The noxious scent of him had already travelled far into the cave complex, causing the small things to flee to their hiding places. They would not be a midnight snack tonight if they could help it.

Bunyip took a confident step forward. He was not afraid, but the South Australian under-18s coach was.

It had been a strange night alright. He'd been sitting at home watching some tapes of a young bloke from Port Augsta and hopping into some rissoles when the radio he kept going in a low hum in the corner had sqwuaked to life.

"Police are issuing a state-wide alert. The footballer formerly known as Stewart Dew, who recently regressed into a pre-human form akin to a yeti or a sasquatch has escaped from his enclosure.

"The creature should not be approached. If it does appear near your house, we recommend throwing any raw meat in the house out the window and immediately informing the emergency services," the announcer said breathlessly.

Barely 20 minutes later and there'd been a giant thud on the coach's front door. He knew immediately what it was.

He looked through the spyhole on his door and saw the matted fur of the Dewosaurus' chest, complete with twigs and leaves caught in its thick knots.

"STEWART NOT HURT!," the beast had roared, "YOU TAKE STEWART THE OTHER ONE!"

The coach had carefully opened the door. The creature gently picked him up and placed him on his back.

"HOLD ON FUR!" the Dewosaurus commanded, "WE RUN NOW!"

And what a run it had been, the mighty abomination bounding through shrubbery in giant bounds, leaving a trail of destruction in its path. Occasionally, the coach whispered 'left' or 'right' in its ear and his mount responded accordingly.

Luckily Bunyip didn't live far away. They arrived in a few minutes and Stweart shook his passenger free from his back.

The Dewosaurus braced his legs, tossed his colossal head and emitted a roar that seemed to shake the very stars that were but distant pin-pricks of light in the
obsidian dark skies.

The front door opened and Bunyip emerged. He too let out a great cry, albeit shriller and with less earth-shaking power than that of his elder, but recognisable as the call of his species all the same.

"IT HIM!" growled the Dewosaurus.

The coach got another helter-skelter ride through the bush on the back of the Dewosaurus before they finally reached the creature's destination.

And now they had reached it, he wanted to go no further. Luckily, the the Dewosaurus had similar ideas.

"HUMAN! YOU GO! SECRET BUSINESS NOW!"

Bunyip had an ancestral memory of what would happen now. His kind were an ancient breed. They had been here well before the puny humans had emerged. Their old ones knew the time of the terrible lizards the size of the tallest tree. Of fires that burned their home for months. Their numbers had slowly dwindled but they would not die out, the Dewosaurus would not let that happen.

"YOUNG ONE! FOLLOW! CEREMONY BEGINS!"

Deep in the heart of the caves, Bunyip saw an enormous cavern loom. He glanced ahead expectantly. He saw a giant yellow beast, like the Dewosaurus, but even larger. It was lounging in a throne composed of human skulls.

"THIS OUR KING!" growled the Dewosaurus, "HE NAME SHANEOSAURUS!"

The two lesser beasts entered deferentially.

"He not play our game. He play other game of eat Englishmans," whispered the Dewosaurus to his apprentice.

"THIS IS THE ONE THEN AY?" the King Of The Fat Bastards asked.

"YES SIRE! IT IS STRONG IN HIM!" the Dewosaurus replied, getting down one to one furry knee.

The Shaneosaurus examined Bunyip, all the time puffing on an enormous cigarette made from a sheet of A3 paper stuffed with bark and gumleaves.

"MM! HE IS GOOD! BEFORE START, TELL KING SHANEOSAURUS WHY DEWOSAURUS DECIDE FINISH? DEWOSAURUS KNOWS LAWS OF OUR KIND! AFTER BRING YOUNG ONE, DIE IN TWO WEEKS YOU WILL!"

Bunyip could have sworn he saw a tear form in the red eyes of his mentor. He saw the Great One was old now, that life had taken its measure from him in strains and tensions in his mighty left leg. The Dewosaurus wanted to end his time as he had been, feared and terrible, not a sad old slow thing, goaded by fleet-footed youngsters with their pointed sticks and flashing lights.

"Dewosaurus have one more job in life, then to Great Bainmarie In Sky, My Lord," he said softly.

The Shaneosaurus considered this, taking a great draw on his baseball bat sized ciggie.

"THE DEWOSAURUS HAS SERVED WELL! FINISH YOUR CALLING! TWO WEEKS YOU HAVE! MAY YOUR QUEST FIND EVERY SUCCESS! he pronounced.

The Dewosaurus nodded his thanks.

"RISE O BRAVE DEWOSAURUS," continued the Shaneosaurus, "NOW YOU MUST LEAVE! THE YOUNG ONE MUST PASS THESE TESTS THREE!"

The Dewosaurus looked down at his protege and gave him a reassuring look.

"Young one has the strength and the way. Do as stomach tells, not as head lies," he said, passing on the advice his own mentor, the Lockettasaurus, had given him all those years ago.

As he turned and trudged up the path toward the muted light visible at the end of the cave passage, he was happy. He had completed the most important task one of his kind ever faced - he had passed his mantle. Now he could use his the remainder of his alloted time to savour revenge. To make the circle complete. The circle of blood.

"FIRST!", he heard the Shaneosaurus roar as the ceremony began, "IT IS THE ORDEAL OF THE THOUSAND PIES!"

The Dewosaurus allowed himself a small smile. Bunyip would have no problems with that one, not even with the most diabolical of the feats he would be required to perform, The Draining Of The Lake Of Bundy.

The cool night air was an elixir. He knew where he was going, followed the Hunt Star due east. There'd be a swim involved, but he'd just use that as an opportunity to pick up a few nice shark snacks on the way. Nothing would divert him from his mission now.

Hundreds of kilometres to the east, lost in that lovely dream about Arantxa Sanchez Vicario she sometimes had, Sam had no idea that vengeance in great bloodthirsty form was heading inexorably toward her.