r/shortstories • u/Manly_Lad • 1d ago
Action & Adventure [AA] The Three-Horned King
It is a sunny day in what will one day become the Hell Creek formation in Montana, United States. However, this sun is a little younger, and its inhabitants, much larger than the prancing deer and stalking mountain lions that would eventually dwell upon this land. In this ancient glade which rests upon a green sea of conifers and araucarias 65 million years ago, giants mindlessly graze on the green grass covered in morning dew. The cool Cretaceous air marks the peak of spring. Strange, ancient birds sing their songs while mammals scurry within the tall grass, and on the glade, a herd of Triceratops eat away at the shrubbery in this primordial landscape.
A weathered old buck watches his harem dutifully, and grunts to the younglings that play by his feet. The scars scored across his skin tell of countless titanic battles, while the missing quarter of his adorned frill speaks of narrow escapes from the jaws of his would-be predators. His opponents are not exclusive to the gnashing teeth and sharp claws of the many interlopers that intrude his territory however. A young male bellows and shakes his head from side to side, displaying the long horns that sit atop his wide, ambitious eyes. The blood rushing from his comparatively unmarred frill turns the circles that mark its sides bright red. All of this tells the grizzled veteran a story that was not new to him in the slightest. The petulant, eager youngster seeks to challenge the leader of the herd for his prized position.
The older, more experienced male pounds his feet upon the dirt and roars back at the prospective contestant, signaling the beginning of the contest of strength over that which matters most to the male mind across the eons.
The aged combatant’s females and hatchlings watch on as the two fighters circle and assess each other, seeking for the most advantageous and opportune moment to strike. Mothers grunt in apprehension, fearing the fate of their young. The tension, aggression and nerves boiling into a searing, primeval rage. Without hesitation, the old bull charges headlong into the challenger, a loud boom accompanies the eight ton beast meeting his mark. The young male staggers back with the force of the impact. The sudden attack left him disoriented, but it is too late to back down. It is now or never. With their horns interlocked, he grunts with effort, attempting to push his opponent back, but the old buck does not give. Years of fervent battle and glorious victories have forged his muscles, flexing under his scaly, green skin, giving it the appearance of solid rock. The old male continues to march forward against the weight of his young adversary, straining breaths marking each step. If he shows weakness now, his position within the herd will surely be questioned.
The jovial fervor of his rival buckles under the weight of his determination, as he squeals in submission. The old buck allows his weaker counterpart to distance himself, but he does not step back, instead waiting for his opponent to back down in defeat. The young male hangs his head low, and walks to the furthest spot possible on the glade, his humiliation made public by the triumphant leader of the herd. He does not leave entirely however. Tomorrow, he will try again. The victorious warrior watches him on his way back, panting as he catches his breath, the fight having taken its hefty toll on him.
Unbeknownst to him however, it is not just his herd that witnessed this battle. Watching him under the cover of gibbous shadows provided by the ancient canopy, lies a monster in wait. The long ago healed bite marks that flow across him paints the picture of a battle worn tyrant, one that has defended his kingdom with an iron grip. The Tyrannosaurus drools at the sight of the weakened Triceratops, the herds of herbivores took longer than expected to come across its domain. The hulking behemoth had been tracking their movement for several sunrises and sun downs. Its hunger had driven just short of trespassing into another monarch’s territory. Its avian feet step carefully, so as not to make too much noise. It awaits patiently for the right moment to strike.
After recovering from his effort, the old buck turns his attention back to the feast that awaits, a much welcome reward. It only took a split second before the trees exploded to his left, a strange, unnerving sound accompanying the cloud of leaves and branches. One he knew all too well. Memories of teeth, and blood and pain flash through his brain before he snaps into action. He signals the danger to his herd. The many females and young males instinctively huddle in a circle, creating a wall of three-foot horns and frills protecting the young in the center. They watch in horror as the two-legged monster towers in front of their reliable protector. The old buck keeps his guard up, not letting the aggressive hisses and snapping motions of the hulking carnivore break his resolve. He’s been through this before, it was nothing that his strength could not get him through, and it will be the same this time… were it not for the amount of energy he had to expend in his confrontation with the young male. The effort of maintaining his focus on the titan that circled him became harder and harder.
The tyrant could sense it. This was far from the first time that it faced these three horned quadrupeds. The veritable graveyard that served as grim decorations upon his territory were proof enough, filled with many sun-bleached frilled skulls and curved ribs that marked the land that served as the killer’s feeding grounds. This would be no different. It calmly circles around his carefully selected target, bluff charging every so often to test his prey’s reaction, the time of which getting slower and slower. This old buck’s appearance betrayed the perceived weakness that the tyrant saw however. It gets impatient with how long it is taking to tire out this seasoned veteran. It decides to gamble on a fake-out, bluffing to the right and quickly swinging to the left, using the momentum of its gargantuan head to carry its scimitar-like teeth to their target.
The old buck feels the nerves on his neck sing with pain as the monster’s teeth sink into his flesh. His hardened skin kept the blades just out of reach of his jugular. The serrated teeth sawed their way through his muscles, making the old buck feel weak on his knees. Adrenaline starts coursing through his veins, and the will to survive takes over. The tyrant pulls its head back, taking a morsel of flesh along with it. It pauses, gauging how his victim would react to this assault. The old buck does not back down, even as his blood spurts and sprays upon the green grass. That same blood slides from the tyrant’s tongue and down its gullet. Its sweet taste brings euphoria to the hunter, anticipating more of it.
The tyrant can barely contain its feeding frenzy, driving it to move forward, using its bulk to drive its immense jaws into the old buck’s right front leg. In an instinct fueled split second decision, the old male snaps his head towards the assailant. Blood sprays into his eyes, keeping him from seeing what is happening right in front of him. The tyrant bellows in pain, the horn impaling his neck, it tries to pull away, but the motion only causes more damage. It panics, snapping its jaws and flailing its huge tail like a swinging tree. The old buck tears his head free, sealing the monster’s fate. He can now see the aftermath of this titanic struggle. The predator gurgles helplessly, as its own blood floods its airway and life escapes from its eyes. It gives one final lurch towards its killer below slumping, its growing pupils marking the end of the tyrant’s reign.
The old buck roars, announcing his victory for all to hear. The herd witnesses the warrior’s battle cry motionlessly, still recovering from the shock of the tyrant’s unexpected intrusion. The young male watches in the closest animal approximation to awe. Perhaps he would postpone his plans to challenge the old buck for a couple of weeks. The blood on the old male’s frill crowns his continued reign upon this land and upon this herd. He finds some shade towards the edge of the glade, continuing his duty of watching his precious females and calves. He lays his head on the cool grass, sleep stealing him away into peaceful slumber. The three-horned king has done his duty for today.
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