Soul Catcher by Frank Herbert

figure
upright. A jet of red gushed from the slashed throat, the lucid
color of a young life spurting in a bright fountain onto the
trail—a rose petal spurting, ebbing, softly now and now frothing,
resurgent, the body twitching, then still.
    It was done.
    Katsuk felt that this moment had been
following him all his life, now to catch up with him.
    An ending and a beginning.
    He continued to support the body, wondered
how old this young man had been. Twenty? Perhaps. Whatever his age,
it was ended here—the pleasure and the time passing, all a dream
now. Katsuk felt his mind whirling with what he had done. Strange
visions captured his awareness: all a dream, black and hidden, an
evil profile, clouds under water, limbs of air moving with jade
ripples, a green crystal fluid carving traces on his memory.
    This earth had green blood.
    He felt the weight of the sagging body. This
flesh had been a minor pattern in an overlarge universe. Now it
faded. He allowed the body to fall on its left side, stood, and
peered uphill toward the log where Hoquat lay hidden. It was a
hillside suddenly full of green light as clouds exposed the
sun.
    Deep within himself, Katsuk prayed: Raven, Raven, keep the edge on my hate. 0 Raven, keep me
terrible in revenge. This is Katsuk, who lay three nights in thy
forest, who heeded no thorn, but did thy bidding. This is Katsuk,
thy torch, who will set this world afire.
    ***
    Special Agent Norman Hosbig, Seattle Office,
FBI:
    Just because we suspect he may have gone to
some city doesn’t mean we stop searching that wilderness. As of
today, we have almost five hundred people in all phases of the
search over there. We have sixteen aircraft still in the park—nine
of them helicopters. I read in the morning paper where they are
calling it a strange kind of contest, modern against primitive. I
don’t see it that way at all. I don’t see how he could be walking
those trails unseen with all the people we have searching.
    ***
    David had watched the killing, standing up
from his hiding place, his mind raddled by terror. That young hiker
who had been so alive—nothing but a carcass now. Katsuk’s eyes were
fearful things, their gaze hunting through the gloom of the
hillside. Were they seeking another victim?
    David felt that Kutsuk’s eyes had been
hidden in some far depth, coming now to the surface—brown and
terrible and so deep from where they had been.
    On trembling legs, David crept up the hill
behind his hiding place. He knew his face was contorted with
terror, his breathing all out of pace, coming fast and shallow. But
he had little control over his muscles.
    All he wanted was release.
    Slowly, he started, moving parallel with the
trail. He had to find those other hikers! At last, he turned
downhill, stumbling over logs and limbs. Movement restored some of
his muscle control. He began to run, emerging from the trees onto a
lower section of the trail.
    There was no sight or sound of the other
hikers or of Katsuk.
    He was running all out now. There was
nothing left to do but run.
    In a trick of the light, Katsuk saw the
running boy—hair flying, a winged head, a slow-motion being of
solid light: ivory with inner brilliance, splendid and golden,
swimming upon the green field of the forest and the air.
    Only then did Katsuk realise that he too,
was running. Straight down the slope he went in great gulping
strides. He burst out upon the switchback trail as Hoquat rounded a
corner above him, caught the running boy in full stride, and swept
him to the ground.
    Katsuk lay there a moment, catching his
breath. When at last he could speak, his words came out in a wild
drumbeat with little meaning outside the angry syllables
pounding.
    “Damn! Damn! Damn! I told you! Stay down
earth ...”
    But Hoquat had been knocked unconscious, his
head striking a log beside the trail.
    Katsuk sat up, grinning, his anger
evaporated. How foolish Hoquat had appeared—the stumbling flight of
a recent nestling. Raven had, indeed,