Helgvor of the Blue River

by J. -H. Rosny aîné

  “The Tzohs have recognized us!” Amhao said.

  One of their canoes shot directly toward the women’s craft; the other kept close to the left bank, as close as the vegetation permitted, to cut off possible retreat. That one was the swifter of the two, and her diagonal course would bring it in position to intercept the fleeing craft.

  Glava headed for the right bank. But Amhao, already very tired and almost fainting, no longer hoped. The tests and the perils had been useless, they would be taken back to their starting point, and their torture would be horrible.

  Tzohs knew of suicide. Glava addressed her companion.

  “Amhao and Glava can make the bank, and there, if Amhao wills it, they shall die.” Amhao looked long toward the bank, then her sorrowing eyes rested on her child. Glava went on, “If we jump into the river, the Tzohs will rescue us. We have firm hands, we can stab ourselves with the spears.”

  This was reasonable. Moreover, a mighty instinct urged her to persist until the last chance was gone. The bank rose steeply, rocky and crested with tawny bushes. As she was about to land, Glava lowered her head and the tears flowed. Love of life sprang up in that young body; immense memories spread, of events lost in the night of her consciousness: the beauty of the dawn upon the plain, the marvel of the growing grass, the miracle of life. Even that morning, Glava and Amhao had been free to breathe, had been drunk with space and movement.

  The craft struck land.

  Three hundred arms’ lengths behind appeared the leading Tzoh canoe, and the other came on obliquely. Amhao, uttering a weak moan, clasped her child passionately. She too loved life, in a slower, more inert fashion.

  “Amhao must go first.”

  Obediently, her eyes streaming tears, Amhao landed, and as Glava grasped hatchet and spears, she felt within her the fear of death mingling with the elation of combat. She turned and cried, “The Tzohs are filthy and cowardly victors!”

  “The Hidden Lives await the daughters of Wokr to devour them!” A warrior replied amid a chorus of jeers and laughter.

  Glava understood the last minute had come, and she said gently, “Amhao is ready?”

  “Amhao is ready,” the older woman agreed, weeping.

  VI. Strange Allies

  The nearest canoe was not more than 100 arms’ lengths away. Suddenly a loud voice called out; an arrow flew over the water and struck a Tzoh in the throat. A wolf howled, dogs barked.

  Bewildered, the men of the Rocks stopped paddling, but a second arrow pierced the shoulder of a warrior, and the voice rose again, loud as the bellowing of an aurochs. The Tzohs were brave, but the law of plain and forest ordained care; the two canoes retreated before the unseen foe.

  Quivering with mingled hope and fear, the two women scanned the rocks. A head appeared, young and covered with tawny hair, a face which did not resemble that of the Tzoh. Then a child was seen sliding between the ridges of granite, climbing to the top of the cliff, speaking words which the two women did not understand, although they guessed the meaning of his gestures: the hidden men were friends.

  With other gestures he indicated that the canoe should proceed downstream. Despite many signs, he could not make the reason clear. At the sight of the child, the Tzohs seemed about to come back, but two shouts, one uttered in a deep voice, the other shrill, warned then off.

  “The daughters of Wokr must obey!” Glava spoke. “The hidden men are friends.”

  She was not altogether sure of this but her fighter’s soul comprehended the need of taking one side or the other. She picked up her paddle, and the canoe resumed its flight downstream, followed, within two arrow flights, by the Tzohs’ craft.

  The child had vanished and nothing revealed the presence of human beings other than fugitives and pursuers. The Tzohs hurled loud insults at the invisible enemy. The man struck in the throat lay at the bottom of the canoe; the one who had been hit in the shoulder could not stem the blood flowing from his wound.

  The passion for life, fierce hope, animated Glava and Amhao. They paddled doggedly, keeping close to shore beside the tall cliff pitted with caves in which lived eagles, vultures and bats. This cliff suddenly seemed to cave in, a dark defile gaped, into which the river poured with the velocity of a torrent. A strong voice hailed the two women.

  They saw a man, two dogs, a wolf and a boy scrambling down toward them. Amhao dropped her paddle from fear, but Glava was not shaken. The stature of the man reared beyond the height of Kzahm the Black Boar, but he was not as massive, and seemed more supple. The face was young, the skull long, and the eyes matched the hue of the river, with jade-green reflections. He made a few hasty signs, indicated the Tzohs with a gesture.

  Without hesitation Glava made for the shore. In a flash, man, boy and animals were in the canoe. The stranger spoke:

  “The Tzohs took the women of the Ougmars! Helgvor will bring warriors to wipe theirs out.”

  He had already snatched Amhao’s paddle, for his sure instinct had informed him that she was the weaker, less resolute than her companion. He directed the craft into the gully. All distrust had left Glava. That warrior’s face was lighter than were the faces of the Tzohs, its hue resembled that of her own visage, and that clear complexion, the sinewy, long limbs, pleased her more than the massive structures of men of her tribe. She was ready to obey him, to help him.

  The rushing waters hurled the canoe into the defile, and the speed was that of a galloping man. At first, the pursuers did not understand this move, and those in the leading craft saw the fugitives’ boat flash in the semi-darkness. Then they guessed that the stranger fleeing with Glava and her sister had no companions save the boy and beasts.

  “We will pursue the canoe!” urged a warrior with enormous shoulders. The others hesitated, pointed at the two wounded men, and one of them voiced the general opinion.

  “Are not other warriors hidden in those rocks?”

  The crew of the second canoe, which had come near, overheard these words. One of them, Kamr, son of the Hyena, snorted sarcastically, “Had there been more warriors, Glava and Amhao would not have fled! Shall 12 Tzohs run before a man and two women?”

  “Two of our warriors are hit, and Kzahm ordered prudence.”

  The son of the Hyena laughed ironically. His strength was as great as that of Kzahm, the Black Boar, and in his heart he craved for leadership. “Did Kazhm order us to be cowards? Let two warriors follow Kamr on the bank. If it is deserted, the Tzohs will pursue the women.”

  He spoke like a chief, and was a chief. His canoe made for the shore, and he landed with two comrades. They discovered no men among the rocks, saw none on the plain and the majority of the Tzohs were thus convinced: ambushed warriors would have fired arrows and spears at them.

  “The Tzohs will pursue the canoe!” Kamr said, returning.

  “Kzahm shall be discontented and will punish Kamr,” the chief of the first boat objected.

  “Kzahm cannot punish six warriors for pursuing a lone man. And the men of the Red Clan are not his slaves!”

  The crew of the second canoe belonged to that clan, feared for its courage and spirit of independence. Kzahm had to handle its members carefully.

  “Women lose days speaking,” Kamr resumed arrogantly. “Let tongues be still. Warriors wish to fight!”

  With a violent gesture he picked up the paddle and launched his craft into the rapids. The onrush of the current was such that it grew dangerous to increase progress, and the six men were content to keep their boat away from the rocky walls. At times, strong whirlpools spun the canoe, but the Tzohs were accustomed to water and its traps and did not worry. Kamr searched in vain for the fugitives. Helgvor had too long a lead.

  Stubbornly, the warrior refused to be discouraged, and as no attack came from the cliffs, close enough to be within arrow range, he grew certain that there was but one combatant ahead. The cliffs towered by degrees and soon were no more than a low line of rocks, and the immense surface of the river reappeared. The surface was smooth and
they slid silently along. On the right shore was the plain across which the Tzohs had marched, on the left bank was a virgin forest.

  In the middle of the stream the canoe was safe from surprise, and Kamr triumphantly glanced over the river and looked for traces of the fugitives.

  But nothing appeared on the broad river.

  As long as the canoe was between the cliffs, Helgvor and Glava thought only of avoiding a wreck. Although the women had repaired the boat, it was more fragile and not as well balanced as the craft of the pursuers. At times the waves threatened to overturn it; then the man and the girl used all their skill to keep it afloat. Used to the river, both were capable.

  They turned to look behind. No canoe appeared on the river, no silhouette rose ashore. The banks parted widely until the left strand was almost invisible. When it vanished, finally, the river resumed the aspect of a lake.

  Helgvor now looked at the women. Amhao offered the swarthy face of the Tzohs, their bestial jaws, their small, beady eyes. Such appearance did not please men of the Blue River. But Glava was strangely like the women of the Ougmar clan, with her long oval face, her large clear eyes, her hair the color of gold and her flexible torso.

  Looking at her, a sweet fervor flooded his chest, comparable to his elation when he roamed the plain in the early dawn. And Glava preferred, to the dark complexion and massive build of the Tzohs, this great body, supple as that of a leopard, this face pink as that of a baby.

  He tried to make her understand, mingling words and gestures, that the Tzohs had stolen the Ougmars’ women. She caught a word here and there, a word which recalled words uttered by her grandmother from the Green Lake, for the tongue of the Lakes resembled that of the men of the Blue River. The two races came from a common origin, and primitive terms had remained similar. And in her turn, she undertook to relate her flight, the earthquake in the mountain, the threat of death, the escape in the night.

  Although he understood her less than she understood him, he knew that they had formed an alliance. At least he knew their names, repeated with signs. And they knew his name.

  “Glava and Amhao will be Ougmar women,” he said. “Helgvor will save them.”

  They progressed on the river, and the enemy did not appear. Nevertheless, Helgvor decided to increase his lead, and Glava helped him with an energy which amazed him. He considered landing, striking out through the forest, but they could not leave the canoe. And the boat, precious help on the river, would be a burden ashore.

  Helgvor decided therefore to keep on water as long as no new peril presented itself. He paddled in silence while dim plans for the future came to mind. Vigilant as a warrior, Hiolg continuously scanned the surroundings. As they rounded a headland, he uttered an exclamation, then, his piercing glance directed upstream, spoke.

  “The Tzohs are back.”

  Helgvor and Glava, while steering the craft out of a whirlpool, gazed behind, and saw, very far away, a canoe. Had they not expected it, they might have mistaken it for a crocodile or a tree-trunk floating on the water. Then their sharp eyes discerned dim silhouettes which were those of men, and Helgvor repeated, looking at Glava, “The Tzohs!”

  VII. Besieged

  The fugitives’ canoe, close to a thickly bushed bank, must be difficult to discern. Helgvor steered still closer to land, so that the craft would be all the more difficult to espy from afar. Before rounding a bend, he cast a last glance behind.

  There was still but one canoe in sight. Was the second one slower, or had it given up? He did not dwell long on the question, and came to a decision. Ten thousand arms’ lengths away, the real bush started, where he could prepare an ambush. In the thicket, his wolf was capable of downing a warrior; his two dogs, less robust, could worry an enemy. Glava seemed ready to show fight, and he, Helgvor, was the best bowman among the Ougmars; and, with a single club-blow, he dropped his man.

  Although she still paddled vigorously, Glava was beginning to show fatigue. She had been struggling since morning. Helgvor took her paddle and gave it to Amhao, who had rested somewhat. The pursuers were not seen again until the bush was within 5000 arms’ lengths.

  From then on, they gained steadily. Not only was their craft better constructed, but what availed Helgvor, seconded by a woman, against six mighty paddlers? He thought only of reaching the bush. To get there in time, it was enough for the canoe to go half as fast as that of the Tzohs.

  For 2000 arms’ lengths, he contrived to keep his distance very well. His strength was intact, and his skill made up for the weakness and clumsiness of Amhao. But before long, the woman tired again, and the advantage of the foes became considerable. Had Glava not picked up the paddle again, it would have been impossible to reach shelter in time.

  “Glava is as brave as a warrior!” shouted Helgvor, warm admiration in his eyes.

  She did not understand the words, but smiled at the gesture, while her heart swelled with happiness. Already, her effort showed results: the distance separating the two canoes dwindled slowly, and Helgvor could hope to reach his goal before danger became pressing. At the same time, he was elated because the second Tzoh boat had not come in sight. The last minutes were arduous; despite her courage, Glava faltered, but he, stiffening his muscles, fought against fate with frantic ardor.

  “Oah!” he shouted triumphantly.

  They had reached the bush and the Tzohs, 300 arms’ lengths late, could not see the canoe bearing Helgvor and his companions skimming under the bending branches of the weeping willows, up a narrow tributary of the main river. This stream had two outlets. Helgvor paddled up one of them slowly. Before attaining the tip of the island formed by the delta, a marshy stretch appeared on the left bank, thick with reeds.

  “If Glava has no strength left,” he said, “Glava need not paddle longer.”

  The canoe reached a haven in the marsh, a cove sheltered by enormous willows and gigantic poplar-trees. Helgvor pushed the canoe into a tangle of reeds, then picked up his weapons.

  All was quiet. The Tzohs must have gone by the river’s mouth. But their return must be feared, for they would soon discover that the fugitives had vanished. Doubtless, they would hesitate a while before the two outlets, then before the marsh. Only luck would bring them upon the canoe hidden in the reeds!

  Glava had watched Helgvor’s stratagem with admiration, and with the eagerness of youth she wished to laugh despite the peril. But Helgvor was already dragging his companions through the bush. When it grew too thickly he sought an easier path; often he opened the way with his hatchet. Soon tall trees appeared with parasitic plants swirling in their shade. Then the fugitives came to a clearing in the center of which were several great boulders.

  “Helgvor, Hiolg, Glava and Amhao will stop here.”

  The son of Shtra chose a space surrounded with stones, in which one found shelter from projectiles. He then spoke to the wolf and the dogs. They knew the words that ordered silence, watchfulness or fight: on this occasion he told them to remain quiet and alert. Their admirable senses caught all variations in the atmosphere; the scent of the dogs surpassed that of the wolf, but the wolf heard better.

  Helgvor stationed them in the three inlets to the circle of stones, then examined his weapons. He had his club, the hatchet, a bow, two spears and five arrows. The weapons of the women consisted of a club, four spears, two hatchets and a sharpened stake. Hiolg had a child’s bow and one spear. The wolf was to be counted upon; and the dogs, although small, might be of help in hand to hand combat.

  The fugitives ate dried meat hastily, then Helgvor and Hiolg sought to make their enclosure more secure. They barred the outlets with spiny branches, leaving only narrow lanes for the animals; if any Tzoh sought to crawl in, he could be stunned with ease. Meanwhile, the women watched between the boulders.

  Several times Helgvor felt a desire to increase the distance between them and the pursuers, but Amhao was too tired to carry on. Even Glava was struggling against utter fatigue. If the Tzohs found their tracks, they wou
ld soon make up for lost time, and the fight would be forced upon the ill-assorted group in the open. Here, the rocks afforded protection, and the women were recuperating enough to be of use.

  In the depth of the forest the branches cast thicker shadow, and the Sun appeared to swell as it neared the tree-tops. Because their souls and their races were young, the thought of perils dwindled in Helgvor, Glava and Amhao: they grew certain that the Tzohs had lost their tracks.

  Before a man could walk 10,000 paces, twilight kneaded the clouds into obscurity. Their shelter seemed sure. They would pass the night there. At times, Helgvor and Glava exchanged gestures or words. Already repetition had started a common speech. Glava grasped language quicker than the Ougmar, for the memory of her grandmother’s muttered words, in the tongue of the Green Lakes, was growing clearer and she was thus better able to comprehend Helgvor’s articulations.

  Amhao took small part in those efforts at conversation. Passive, nonchalant in spirit, tired, occupied by her child, she yielded to the energy of her companions. The little one fascinated Hiolg, who brought laughter upon the flabby, round face of the baby. Habit was being formed among those people, and the sensation of strangeness and contrast was dwindling, even for Amhao, who, more than Glava, was aware that she was an alien to the tall nomad.

  Shortly before nightfall the dogs stirred uneasily, and the wolf prowled outside the enclosure. Although Helgvor and his people listened intensely, they heard nothing save the murmur of the wind through the branches and the sounds of insects. But the dogs and the wolf could be depended upon; they scented a foe, man or beast, within the atmosphere. The eyes of the wolf glowered, and the dogs turned often to look at their master inquiringly.

  Helgvor whistled gently. It was an order for silence. In any case, unless the man permitted, the dogs and the wolf never barked or howled before a prey or before danger. However, their agitation increased; the wolf slunk about softly, the dogs slid in and out of the openings left for them, returned with their teeth showing in a mute snarl.