He must have dreamed it all.
Music. He was surprised to find the word still resounding in his ears, yet Gazda could not conjure up the sounds he had heard. Perhaps that had been a dream as well.
And yet, images from his vision yet assailed him, and so, surely he had heard the music.
It must have been a weapon of Fur-nose’s night ape tribe.
He remembered the confusion of emotion and pain that it brought upon him—the dizziness that grew as the females jumped and turned and danced.
“Dance,” he said, in a language no ape would understand.
The music had affected him, somehow distorting his mind, and adding thoughts that were not his own.
“Taniec. Dans,” he said, again. Weighing the sound of it with his ears, and then he added, “Musica.”
It had not been the words alone but what they described that had conjured the disturbing images and sensations in his mind, and he wondered if Harkon might help him understand what had happened—if she had encountered such a thing before.
For if it was a weapon intended to raise the visions and weaken him whenever the invaders so wished it, then it seemed the words remained within him still.
Gazda growled, emboldened by the constant night noises that had returned with the failing rain to fill the jungle, as though that jot of normalcy had brought new courage with it.
Another growl escaped him, for smoke yet curled up from his lair. So the invaders were no dream.
An ironic grin cracked his features when he remembered the “music” had stopped before his retreat, yet its effect had seemingly followed him. A defensive weapon it must have been, and its effect had increased at a distance.
He would be cautious.
Sliding silently along from branch to branch, Gazda slipped closer to the clearing until he found a perch from which he could watch the tree-nest. With the rain trailing off, he knew its occupants might come out, and despite the power of their “music” and “dance” he wished to learn more about them before deciding on a course of action.
He hoped he was out of range.
And as king and silverback, he was charged with killing or exiling any invaders encroaching on his lands, and yet he hesitated. If they were his or Fur-nose’s tribe, then allies they might be, and if they shared his strength and cunning, slaying so many of them would test the night ape past his end.
As he lay there with his chest pressed against the bough, his ribs shuddered at the throb of his heart, rhythmically it ran: lub-dub, lub-dub... And the shadow of music arose in his thoughts: da-da-da-da duh, da duh, da duh...
But its effect was dispelled when the tree-nest door swung inward and open.
Lub-dub...
A creature stepped out onto the platform that was the living likeness of Fur-nose’s bones. A hairless ape like Gazda, pale-skinned and fully fleshed on hands and face; yet it was covered with garments much like what the night ape had found in the tree-nest and seen in the skin-stones.
The creature was almost Gazda’s height and wore a thatch of curls atop its head, while around its nose a tuft of dark-gray hair grew that kindled the night ape’s greatest superstitions.
If Fur-nose could not live again, then surely this was his blackback son. Old Baho had told the stories of the thunder-hand, and described its master many times.
This one barked in a deep voice and another night ape stepped out, followed by the dim light from the open door. This one was thick and squat, and had heavy white tufts growing on his red cheeks—sideburns like those upon the apes in Gazda’s tribe. The white-haired one moved slowly, also, and his actions were rigid.
Old. Gazda nodded, thinking of Baho’s sometimes arthritic movements.
A low growl started unbidden in the night ape’s chest as a third male moved out to stand by the others. This one was tall and his skin was as black as Harkon’s.
And in his hands he bore a thick branch, and upon one end there was a flat and shining stone!
Like Omag’s murderous cane!
Gazda bared his fangs to the night. Were these creatures in league with the traitorous Sip-sip, then—or had they robbed a king of his revenge?
The night ape’s excitement leapt again as another reality struck home. The black skin on the third! Could it be that Fur-nose’s tribe of night apes mixed with Harkon’s?
Gazda would never have dared to think it! And yet, the idea cheered him.
Then he hooted worriedly, gathering his limbs beneath him to retreat for each of these creatures put short sticks in their mouths that the first Fur-nose set alight with a flickering finger!
Was it thunder-hand returned? Did that weapon have other uses also?
The night ape trembled upon his perch, watching the plumes of smoke rise from the invaders’ noses and mouths.
Gazda barked to bolster his courage as they plucked these burning sticks from their lips and held them in their hands like smoking fingers!
What was this? Had monsters taken over his lair—monsters bearing thunder-hands of cloud and flame!
And would death soon leap out to strike Gazda? Baho had said there would be a noise like thunder...
The night ape tried to calm himself and summon his blackback courage, so he ignored the smoking fingers and focused on the heavy garments that covered the invaders from foot to neck.
Only hands and heads were left exposed, just as they were depicted in the skin-stones.
Then another male came out to join the three!
And Gazda could contain himself no longer. Growling and panting quietly, he crept back along the branch to reach the trunk.
This fourth creature appeared much younger and was also white of skin.
The night ape hooted, and snapped his teeth when this last invader pressed fire to a stick in his mouth and soon his head and hands were smoking, too, as a rank smell of burning leaves floated into the air.
Gazda looked at his own white fingers, curled them into hooks and straightened them again. He cautiously set his index finger to his lips, but no fire or smoke came forth.
If they were night apes upon the platform was thunder-hand something Gazda could learn to do? It would be a potent force for him to carry on the hunt.
The males communicated very little as the smoke drifted off of them, and when they did it came as incomprehensible noise. Their voices, while deeper than the females, were capable of heights that Gazda had never heard among the male apes of Goro’s tribe.
These strangers also yawned frequently exhibiting their small canines as they groaned. Despite that show of weariness, they stood erect in a threatening posture and appeared restless. Their body language reminded the night ape of the tension that often accompanied groups of blackbacks that were sizing each other up to challenge for dominance.
Then came the muffled fluting voices of the females in the tree-nest, rising and falling like music as they chattered until the males in deeper tones rasped an answered.
What was this ritual?
Why did the females stay inside? Did they fear the thunder-hand?
Gazda wished they had come out, too.
The sky had darkened to pitch by the time the males extinguished their burning fingers and retired to the shelter of the tree-nest.
When the door closed Gazda moved forward from branch to branch and leapt into the clearing where he crept stealthily through the wet grass until he crouched by his lair.
A scent struck him and drew a flash of ire that curled his lip. There between the uprights, boards and boxes beneath the tree-nest he nosed out the skins he had prepared and dried—half-buried and twitching with maggots—and near to that he found his bone-face trophies and the discarded bones of Fur-nose!
The night ape scowled up at the tree-nest. A snarl twitched across his features and pulled his full lips away from his fangs.
Invaders! To come into his lair and cast his property away! Thunder-hand be damned!
Growling, Gazda vaulted onto the roof and landed silently n
ear where he had eavesdropped before.
Gentle and subdued sounds came from inside. The chatter ran back and forth between the males and females, rising and falling in pitch and volume.
And for a moment, he was reminded of his own tribe bedding down after sunset. Did these interlopers sleep in the night? Were Fur-nose’s kind more like Goro’s apes?
When orange light flickered from the nearest opening, Gazda moved into position over the window to watch.
And his breath caught, for an old female was lying in his bed. Her red cheeks and white hair reminded him of the old male he’d seen earlier. She lay beneath a large covering and appeared to be asleep.
The young females were closer, whispering as they undressed.
Gazda barely contained an anxious hoot as they picked at strings that bound one another’s garments to their bodies, loosening them with dexterous fingers until sheets of fibrous material began to slump about their lower quarters.
Still more strings loosed and another layer fell away to show another. Beneath that was a sheet of thin webbing that each helped the other peel up over her head. That action left them with soft clutches of material about their breasts and hips that formed a flexible under layer.
As they worked, even more material fell and crumpled, collapsing eventually into heaps from which they stepped with long white legs!
Gazda panted happily, pleased by this revelation, remembering the puzzling pictures of females in the skin-stones. These night apes hid the true length and shape of their legs!
He grunted his approval for it was plain they were not so different after all.
Then he gasped and clutched tight to the roof’s edge, for the females had started peeling the skin off of their legs! Gazda almost barked a warning, but held back when their disturbing actions revealed pale, pink skin on the rounded thighs and calves beneath.
What strange creatures! His mind raced, his heart pounded...and...
Something in Gazda’s savage breast had been awakened as the females disrobed. Passion rose in pitch and urgency as each hidden shape was revealed. He struggled to contain the surging impulse as the last and most desirable action came, as they removed the stout shells that encased their ribs and soft white breasts.
The night ape panted quietly, anxiously, shifting his weight from hand to hand as he watched. A pink mist had descended over his eyes and the females fairly glowed.
Heat burned within his chest, rising with his pulse as a scent wafted from the tree-nest on the breeze. Gazda barked quietly, his strong fingers thrust into the thatch.
The females chattered, swiftly slipping their soft white bodies into long pale garments that covered all but hands and faces—and the night ape was again struck by a scent that caused his muscles to spasm, and coaxed a feral light into his eyes.
After setting their many garments aside, the brown-haired female came close to the window, and the amber light disappeared to be replaced by darkness. The far wall suddenly glowed dimly, and Gazda’s sharp eyes saw veiled shapes beyond.
But how the female had caused the light to disappear, he did not know, for her close scent had blinded Gazda to her actions.
Desirous like the music he had heard, and like the blood in their veins, a scent yet drifted through the window as the females slid beneath fine sheets to cuddle in the dark upon their bed.
He smelled their blood, and from that distance felt their quivering hearts against his skin, but there was more. These females were aroused. Were they preparing to mate?
The night ape could see their bodies intertwining beneath the cloth, but they were not mating. Instead, they whispered in the dark, but nothing more.
Gazda could not understand. The females of his tribe were mated to Goro and to other blackbacks in the hierarchy, and Gazda remembered times when he had smelled arousal, and with young Ooso would watch adults couple and wonder why.
In their youth, Ooso had suggested mating games, and Gazda had complied to mimic the actions of a blackback, but he had never been drawn into the activity—and so their childish pairings were little more than frisky horseplay.
As it had remained when Gazda grew into adulthood.
Other she-apes had offered themselves, but he had not been drawn to them. They had been attracted to his strength, and hunting prowess, and were excited by his strange appearance.
And while Gazda had desired their rich blood, he had not been drawn to them as he was to these females now.
In the dark with the other night apes close he wanted something more than the blood. Their arousal affected him in such a way that his body pulsed and quivered. Every organ and muscle swelled and throbbed with a life of its own.
Panting, Gazda stared into the darkness of the tree-nest, breathing in the potent air that caused his heady passion to grow. He felt the way he did when tasting blood, but there was more.
Gazda licked his lips.
As the females sank into their slumber, their breathing slowed, and upon that languid whispering cycle did his lust for them rise and to him it felt like...
...music. It was like music! But what music?
He sank back on his haunches.
If these were night apes of his kind, indeed, he would wish to join their tribe, and yet, all he felt was desire for the females. He yearned for their voices, their music—their soft flesh and sweet blood—and he wished to press his heart against theirs, to hold them and turn with them to their music.
He heard the soft rustle of their rising breasts against the bedclothes.
Movement caught his eye! The distant shadow by the black grove was coming forth again upon the fog.
And a faint blue glow accompanied it that was no reflected star. There was within the murk a flickering, upright shape haunted by floating motes of green.
As the black fog crept toward Gazda.
From the glimmering shape came a reverberant sound much like the music he had heard; but this song caused his passion to distend and grow, while beneath a low note throbbed in time with the sleeping female hearts!
“No!” Yearning made Gazda’s voice a growl. Yearning that tingled in his every cell, and caused his throat to heat, and tongue to swell.
With his tormented face a twisted mask, the night ape sprinted from the flickering shadow until the dense jungle closed about him to hide his streaming tears.
The black fog followed.
CHAPTER 9 – Passion and Pulse
The night ape had returned to the trees on the northern side of the clearing. He sat on a stout branch while the black fog settled over the jungle floor beneath him where it rose around the trunks to a foot in depth.
It had “settled” though its murky surface rippled with scintillant blue, shifting in variegated waves that undulated close to Gazda’s hanging feet. There at intervals it raised misty tendrils to caress his naked legs.
Absent was the glimmering upright shape and flickering motes. They had gone dull and sunk into the foggy depths. Gazda had searched the surface for some sign, before welcoming the quiet they had left him.
Though his passion remained.
When the night ape closed his eyes he saw the smooth white skin of the females as they disrobed. Like a compulsion it was, an irresistible curiosity that he relived again and again—while somehow knowing the memory alone would never be enough.
The females were like their music. Their scent and shape was a potent force that thrummed along his nerves like...music...even still.
But where had they come from?
There was little doubt that the males were of Fur-nose’s tribe, appearing much more like the dead creature than Gazda. Their clothing was similar, and one had fur around his nose.
The females shared similarities like hairless skin, though the night ape felt certain theirs would be softer.
In strength, he did not know their character. The males appeared to possess thunder-hands which were said by the apes to be dangerous or lethal, and these strangers had some small mastery of flame and
light.
But nothing else had been evident to hint at physical power other than their size which was close to his own.
Gazda brushed his fingertips upon his naked lips. If he were as many times stronger than the invaders as he was to the bone-faces, then that suggested they were born of a different tribe.
The look and shape of the females suggested he could win a mate from among them—if he knew their method of challenging males, for it was likely their traditions would be different from those within his tribe of apes.
The night ape panted in frustration upon his perch with sinewy fingers entwined before him.
Gazda would very much like to know this method, for he had a yearning to join with them and be their king, or failing that, take from them a mate with whom he could return to his tribe of apes.
His imagination circled the strangers, compelled to this orbit by the invisible female scent that still clung to his face.
It vexed him, the scent coming to life upon each moist breath of air he took, ever drawing his mind back to this new obsession that caused their naked, supple limbs to slip through his mind.
The poor light within his lair had kept him from viewing the females well, and their moment uncovered had been too brief and startling for him to have memorized.
But he remembered much that made him wonder how their flesh would feel beneath those final flimsy coverings; and he longed to see, so different they were from the she-apes of his tribe.
He wished to explore the sweep of their narrow waists and rounded hips, and gauge the swell of their breasts.
Gazda was king, could he not demand it?
Yet he was not so desperate to know their secrets that he would risk offending them, and in the offense alienate himself with ignorance. Or worse, initiate hostilities that would leave him at a disadvantage.
Or would he? Resisting his curiosity would be difficult, for something previously awakened by their scent still prodded him, provoked him to reckless action. A dark agent within himself still lurked, as the black fog lurked about the sickly grove, as it clung to the ground beneath him demanding he know more.
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