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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
104
He
had
watched
the
earlier
combats
carefully,
and
had
detected
the
one
place
where
the
criatin
antennae
could
not
reach.
Barrent
waited
for
his
chance
and
jumped
for
the
center
of
the
criatin's
broad
back.
When
the
shell
split
into
a
gigantic
mouth--for
this
was
the
criatin
method
of
feeding--Barrent
jammed
his
sword
into
the
opening.
The
criatin
expired
with
gratifying
promptness,
and
the
crowd
signified
its
approval
by
showering
the
Arena
with
cushions.
The
victory
left
Barrent
standing
alone
on
the
blood-stained
sand.
The
rest
of
the
prisoners
were
either
dead
or
too
badly
maimed
to
fight.
Barrent
waited,
wondering
what
beast
the
Games
Committee
had
chosen
next.
A
single
tendril
shot
up
through
the
sand,
and
then
another.
Within
seconds,
a
short,
thick
tree
was
growing
in
the
Arena,
sending
out
more
roots
and
tendrils,
and
pulling
all
flesh,
living
or
dead,
into
five
small
feeding-mouths
which
circled
the
base
of
the
trunk.
This
was
the
carrion
tree,
indigenous
to
the
northeastern
swamps
and
imported
with
great
difficulty.
It
was
said
to
be
highly
vulnerable
to
fire;
but
Barrent
had
no
fire
available.
Using
his
sword
two-handed,
Barrent
lopped
off
vines;
others
grew
in
their
place.
He
worked
with
frantic
speed
to
keep
the
vines
from
surrounding
him.
His
arms
were
becoming
tired,
and
the
tree
regenerated
faster
than
he
could
cut
it
down.
There
seemed
no
way
of
destroying
it.
His
only
hope
lay
in
the
tree's
slow
movements.
These
were
fast
enough,
but
nothing
compared
with
human
musculature.
Barrent
ducked
out
of
a
corner
in
which
the
creeping
vines
were
trapping
him.
Another
sword
was
lying
twenty
yards
away,
half-buried
in
the
sand.
Barrent
reached
it,
and
heard
warning
shouts
from
the
crowd.
He
felt
a
vine
close
around
his
ankles.
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