4. The Armament Is Transformed
During the next few days I ordered a large number of trees felled, and provided the model for light, portable barriers, which I describe briefly here: an outer frame six cubits long and two cubits wide, linked by crossbeams to an inner frame one cubit wide and five cubits long.36 Six men (two carriers, two warriors armed with heavy lances of thick wood, two others also armed with wooden lances, but these equipped with very fine metal points, and armed as well with bows and arrows) can easily fit inside, and move through the forest, protected from the initial attack of the Xipéhuz. Once within range of the enemy, the warriors armed with blunt lances would strike, knock down the enemy, force it to expose itself, and the archer-lancers were to aim for the stars, using spear or bow as the occasion demanded. Insofar as the average height of the Xipéhuz reached a little above a cubit and a half, I designed the barriers so that the outer shield, during the march, was no higher than a cubit and a quarter above the ground, and to achieve this all that was needed was to incline a bit the supporting beams that joined it to the inner frame carried by human hands. Moreover, because the Xipéhuz do not know how to surmount unexpected obstacles with any degree of rapidity, or to advance except in an upright position, the barrier as thus conceived was adequate to protect against their initial attacks. Of course, they would make an effort to set fire to these new weapons, and in more than one instance they would surely succeed, but as their fire was barely effective from beyond the range of the arrow, they would have to expose themselves in order to effect this charring. Furthermore, as the charring was not immediate, one could, by means of swift and deft maneuvers, keep mostly out of range.
5. The Second Battle
The year of the world 22,649, the eleventh day of the eighth moon. On this day was waged the second battle against the Xipéhuz, and the chiefs appointed me supreme commander. Thus I divided the tribes into three armies. Shortly before dawn I ordered forty thousand warriors, armed with the system of barriers, to attack Kzour. This attack was less disorderly than that of the seventh day. The tribes slowly entered the forest, in small units disposed in proper order, and the engagement began. During the first hour of combat mankind had the total advantage, the Xipéhuz were completely routed by the new tactic; more than a hundred Forms perished, barely avenged by the deaths of but a dozen warriors. But once the initial surprise was over, the Xipéhuz undertook to burn our mobile frames. They were able, in some instances, to do so. They adopted a more risky maneuver toward the fourth hour of the day: taking advantage of their speed, groups of Xipéhuz, closing ranks with one another, rushed toward the frames, and were able to overturn them. Thus, in this manner, a great many men perished, so many in fact that the enemy regained the upper hand, and part of our army was plunged into despair.
Toward the fifth hour the Zahelal tribes of Khemar, of Djoh, and a part of the Xisoastres and Sahrs started to flee. Wishing to avoid a catastrophe, I dispatched couriers protected by strong barriers to announce that reinforcements were on the way. At the same time I marshaled a second army for the attack. Beforehand, however, I gave new instructions: the barriers were to remain disposed in groups as tight as the forest terrain would permit, and were to deploy in compact squares as soon as a somewhat sizeable group of Xipéhuz came near, without however abandoning the offensive.37
That said, I signaled the attack; in a short time I had the joy of seeing victory return to the United Peoples. Finally, toward midday, an approximate casualty count—estimating the number of losses for our army at two thousand men and those of the Xipéhuz at three hundred—proved beyond doubt we were making inroads, and filled all our souls with confidence.
Yet toward the fourteenth hour the balance tipped slightly against us, the Peoples having lost four thousand individuals and the Xipéhuz five hundred.
It was then that I deployed the third corps: the battle reached its greatest intensity, the enthusiasm of the warriors grew minute by minute, until the hour when the sun was ready to fall into the West.
Around this moment, the Xipéhuz resumed the offensive at the north of Kzour; a retreat by the Dzoums and Pjarvanns caused me to become worried. Judging, moreover, that darkness would be more favorable to the enemy than to our troops, I sounded the retreat. The return of the troops took place with calm, triumphantly; much of the night was spent celebrating our success. It was considerable: eight hundred Xipéhuz had perished, their field of activity had been reduced to two-thirds of Kzour forest. It is true that we left seven thousand of our own fallen in the forest, but these losses were far fewer, proportionate to the result, than those of the first battle. Thus, my heart filled with hope, I dared to conceive a bolder and more decisive plan of attack against the twenty-six hundred Xipéhuz still alive.
6. The Extermination
The year of the world 22,649, the fifteenth day of the eighth moon.
As the reddish sun descended upon the eastern hills, the Peoples were ranged in battle formation before Kzour.
My soul swelled with hope, I finished giving my instructions to my chiefs, the horns sounded, the heavy hammers struck the gongs of bronze, and the first army marched toward the forest.
This time the barriers were stronger, a little larger, and held twelve men instead of six, except for about a third of them, which were built according to the old model.
Thus, they were more difficult both to burn and to overturn.
The initial moments of combat were favorable; after the third hour four hundred Xipéhuz had been exterminated, as opposed to only two thousand of our men. Encouraged by this good news, I ordered the second corps to attack. On both sides the fighting was horrendous, our combatants becoming used to victory, their adversaries deploying the stubborn courage of a noble Kingdom. From the fourth to the eighth hour, we sacrificed no less than ten thousand lives; but the Xipéhuz paid for them with a thousand of their own, such that only a thousand remained in the depths of Kzour.
It was then I realized that Mankind would inherit the Earth; my remaining doubts subsided.
Nevertheless, during the ninth hour a great shadow fell on our victory. Now the Xipéhuz never confronted us except in large masses and in forest clearings, concealing their stars, and they became almost impossible to knock over. Inflamed by warlike zeal, many of our troops rushed headlong against these masses. Thus, in rapidly changing fashion, a large group of Xipéhuz detached itself, knocking down and massacring these foolhardy men.
A thousand men thus perished, without appreciable loss for the enemy. When the Pjarvanns saw this, they began to shout that all was lost; a panic prevailed which caused more than ten thousand men to flee, a large number of whom imprudently abandoned their barriers in order to run more rapidly. This cost them dearly. A hundred Xipéhuz, in hot pursuit, cut down more than two thousand Pjarvanns and Zahelals: terror began to spread through all the ranks.
When the runners brought me this dire news, I knew that the day would be lost if I were not able, through some deft maneuver, to retake the lost positions. Immediately I gave the order to their chiefs for the third army to attack, and I announced that I would lead it into battle. Then, I swiftly moved my reserves in the direction from which the troops were fleeing. We soon found ourselves face-to-face with the pursuing Xipéhuz. Made bold by their success in their slaughter, they were unable to regroup fast enough, and, in a few instants, I caused them to be surrounded. Very few escaped; the mighty acclamation of our victory restored courage in our troops.
From that moment on, I had no difficulty regaining the offensive; we limited our tactic to constantly detaching segments from the enemy clusters, then surrounding these segments and annihilating them.
Soon, realizing just how effective this tactic was against them, the Xipéhuz again began to fight us in small units, and the massacre of the two Kingdoms, one of which could exist only by annihilating the other, doubled horribly in intensity. But any doubt as to the final outcome soon vanished from the souls of the most fainthearted. Towar
d the fourteenth hour, barely five hundred Xipéhuz were facing a hundred thousand men, and these few adversaries were enclosed in increasingly narrow boundaries, more or less a sixth of the forest of Kzour, which made our movements extremely easy.
Nonetheless, the red light of dusk flowed through the trees and, fearing ambushes in the shadows of night, I interrupted the combat.
The immensity of the victory swelled in every soul; the chiefs spoke of making me ruler of all the tribes. I advised them never to place the destinies of so many men in the hands of one poor fallible creature, but to adore the Unique One, and to elect Wisdom for their earthly ruler.38
VIII. Last Period of the Book of Bakhoun
The Earth belongs to Mankind. Two days of fighting has exterminated the Xipéhuz; the entire domain occupied by the last two hundred of them has been razed, every tree, every plant, every blade of grass has been destroyed. And I have finished, for the edification of future peoples, with the help of Loum, Azah and Simho my sons, inscribing the story of the Xipéhuz on tablets of granite.
Now I am alone, at the edge of Kzour, in the pale night. A half moon of copper color stands fixed above the Setting Sun. Lions roar at the stars. The river wanders on its peaceful course through the willows; its neverending voice speaks of times that pass, the melancholy of things that perish. And I bury my face in my hands and a cry of sorrow arises in my heart. For now that the Xipéhuz have perished, my soul misses them, and I ask of the Unique One what Fatality has ordained that the splendor of Life be soiled by the Blackness of Murder?39
Another World
I.
I am a native of Gelderland.1 Our property consists only of a few acres of briar and brackish water. Pines that rustle with a metallic sound grow on its boundaries. Only a few rare inhabitable rooms remain on the farm, which is dying stone by stone in solitude. We issue from an old family of shepherds, formerly large, now reduced to my parents, my sister, and me.
My destiny, rather gloomy at first, has become the most beautiful that I am aware of. I have met The One Being who has understood me; it is he who will teach to others what I alone among men now know. For a long time, however, I suffered, I despaired, prey to doubt, to solitude of the soul, which in the end gnaws away everything right down to the most absolute certainties.
I came into the world with a unique constitution. Right from the beginning, I was an object of wonder. Not that I seemed to be misshapen: I was, I was told, more graceful of body and face than one is usually at birth.2 But I had the most extraordinary complexion, of a sort of pale violet color—very pale but very clear. In the lamplight, especially that of oil lamps, this nuance became paler yet, took on a strange whiteness, like a lily submerged in water. This is, at least, what other men saw: for I myself see myself differently, just as I see differently all the objects in this world. To this first oddity others were added that came to light later.
Although born with the appearance of health, I grew with difficulty. I was thin, I cried constantly; by the age of eight months, no one had yet seen me smile. Before long, they despaired of ever raising me. The doctor from Zwartendam declared that I was suffering from a physiological malady: he saw no other remedy but a rigorous health regimen. Nonetheless I continued to waste away; from one day to the next, they expected to see me die. My father, I believe, had resigned himself to this, having been vexed in his self-pride—in his Dutch amour propre made up of order and regularity—by the strange aspect of his child. My mother, to the contrary, loved me all the more in proportion to my strangeness, finally coming to find the color of my skin pleasant.
Things had reached this point, when a very simple event came to my rescue: as everything concerning me of course had to be abnormal, this event became a cause of scandal and apprehension.
When one of the servants left, she was replaced by a strong Friesland girl, hardworking and honest, but given to drinking. I was placed in the care of the newcomer. Seeing me so feeble, she fancied that she could give me in secret a little beer and water mixed with Schiedam,3 the remedies, according to her, best for any illness.
The most curious thing is that I soon began to regain strength, and that from then on I showed an extraordinary predilection for alcoholic drinks. The good-hearted lass secretly rejoiced, not without taking some pleasure in causing puzzlement in my parents and the doctor. But, confronted with the evidence, she finally revealed the mystery. My father became violently angry, the doctor ranted against ignorance and superstition. Strict orders were given to all the servants, I was removed from the care of the Friesland girl.
I began again to lose weight, to waste away, until my mother, harking only to her tenderness, put me back on the beer and Schiedam diet. At once, I regained strength and liveliness. The experiment was conclusive: alcohol proved to be essential to my health. My father was humiliated by this; the doctor saved face by prescribing medicinal wine, and my health has been excellent ever since: everyone hastened to predict that I would have a life of drunkenness and debauchery.
Soon after this incident, a new anomaly struck those around me. My eyes, that had at first seemed normal, became oddly opaque, took on a corneous look, like the elytra of certain coleoptera.4 The doctor predicted that I would lose my sight; he admitted nonetheless that the illness seemed totally odd to him and that he had never been given the opportunity of studying anything like it before. Soon the pupil became so much like the iris that it was impossible to tell one from the other. In addition, they noticed that I could look into the sun without being troubled by it. To tell the truth, I was in no way blind, in fact one finally had to admit that I saw with my eyes very well indeed.
In this manner I reached the age of three. I was then, in the opinion of our neighbors, a little monster. There had been little change in the violet hue of my skin; my eyes were completely opaque. I spoke incorrectly and with an astounding speed. I was dextrous with my hands, and well endowed to perform movements that demand more agility than physical strength. No one denied that I would have been graceful and even pretty had I had a normal complexion and transparent pupils. I showed some intelligence, but with gaps in knowledge that people around me did not try to understand, all the more because, with the exception of my mother and the Friesland girl, I was hardly liked by anyone. I was in the eyes of strangers an object of curiosity, and for my father a continual source of humiliation.
If in fact the latter had preserved any hope of seeing me become like other human beings, time acted to dissuade him of this. I became stranger and stranger, in my tastes, my habits, and even my good qualities. At the age of six, I nourished myself almost entirely with alcohol. I barely ate a few mouthfuls of vegetables and fruit. I grew incredibly fast, I was astonishingly thin and light. I mean “light” in a literal sense, which is precisely the opposite of being thin: thus, I was able to swim without the least effort, I floated like a plank of poplar wood. My head was no more immersed than the rest of my body.
I was agile in proportion to this lightness. I ran with the speed of a deer, I leapt easily over ditches and obstacles no one would even have tried to jump over. In the twinkling of an eye, I would reach the top of a beech tree; or, even more surprising, I would jump to the roof of our farm. On the other hand, the least burden exceeded my strength.
* * *
All these, in fact, were merely phenomena that indicated a unique nature, phenomena that in themselves could only have served to single me out and make me unwelcome; none placed me outside the realm of Humanity. Without doubt, I was a monster, but certainly not so much as someone born with horns, or ears like a beast, the head of a calf or a horse, or with fins, no eyes, or an extra eye, four arms, four legs, or without arms or legs. My skin, despite its surprising hue, was close to being like skin that was suntanned; my eyes had nothing repugnant about them, despite their opacity. My extreme agility of movement was a positive quality; my need for alcohol could pass as a mere vice, the hereditary trait of a drunkard: the bumpkins, in fact, like our Frieslander, onl
y saw in all of that a confirmation of their sense of the “strength” of Schiedam, a slightly excessive demonstration of how excellent their tastes were. As for the rapidity of my speech, its glibness, which was impossible to follow, this could be confused with speech defects—stammering, lisping, stuttering—commonly found in so many small children. Therefore, strictly speaking, I had no marked signs of monstrosity, although all these things taken together were extraordinary: the fact was that the most unusual aspect of my nature escaped detection by those around me, for nobody realized that my vision differed strangely from the normal way of seeing.5
If I saw certain things less clearly than other men, I saw a large number of things that no one else sees. This difference was especially marked in the case of colors. All those colors known as red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo appeared to me as a more or less blackish gray, while I did see the color violet, and a series of colors beyond this end of the spectrum, colors that are only night for normal eyes. I later came to understand that I can distinguish fifteen or so colors that are as different from each other as, for example, yellow and green—with, of course, an infinity of gradations.
Second, my eye cannot perceive transparency under normal conditions. I see poorly through a windowpane, and through water: I see glass as a highly colored substance; water is slightly colored, even when there is little thickness.6 Many crystals said to be diaphanous are more or less opaque for me; then again, a large number of bodies said to be opaque do not stop my seeing through them. Generally, I see through bodies much more frequently than you do; and translucency, cloudy transparency, occurs so often that I can say that, for my eye, it is the rule of nature, while total opacity is an exception. It is thus that I distinguish objects through wood, leaves, flower petals, magnetic iron, coal, and so on. However, when the thickness varies, these bodies become an obstacle: as with a huge tree, or a meter’s depth of water, or a thick chunk of coal or quartz.
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