Helgvor of the Blue River

by J. -H. Rosny aîné

  Then she asked, “Amhao?”

  “We’ll find Amhao!” he said.

  She trusted her destiny to the tall nomad, and sank into fever, fatigue—and faith.

  The wound was deep and the fall had harmed the bones. Glava suffered, bravely. In the mystery of instinct, she felt that Helgvor was more tender than she had ever been. Her astonishment was limitless, that such gentleness was not a weakness, for was he not as brave as a tiger, as clever as a wolf, as skilled as the most feared warrior?

  No other man resembled him. He was alone, as if sprung from an unknown race. Her horror of men who break off women’s teeth, who beat them, or throw them in sacrifice to the Hidden Lives, did not extend to him.

  And Glava was revealed to Helgvor. She was the eternal and ever-changing morning. For her, he would slay Heigoun. The fear of losing her was so violent that he would feel his heart grow cold at the thought.

  As he watched by the fire, Heigoun’s silhouette rose in the flames. Helgvor believed ardently in his own victory, but in a livid glow he sometimes felt himself crushed by the club, disemboweled by a hatchet. The cry that then died on his lips did not express fear, nor rage, but the supreme shame of not having known how to guard the daughter of the Rocks.

  They traveled in the canoe by day, stopped at night. Glava was delirious for a time, then youth won out. And they whiled the time exchanging the legends of their tribes. After 12 days she was well, out of danger. And that night, when Akr and Iouk were asleep, Helgvor spoke to Glava.

  “In a few days the canoe will reach the Red Peninsula.”

  A shudder rippled on Glava’s flesh, as the poplars quiver before the wind. She recalled the colossal warrior with the cruel eyes: Heigoun.

  “Glava cannot live on the Red Peninsula,” she cried.

  At the sound of her voice Akr stirred restlessly in his sleep and the wolf growled. A sharp pang lashed Helgvor’s heart.

  “Where can Glava go? The Men of the Rocks would kill her, and women cannot live alone on the plain or in the forest.”

  “Amhao and Glava lived thus!”

  “Was not Glava stretched helpless upon the ground? Even jackals could have devoured her. And was not Amhao’s canoe pursued by the Tzohs on the river?”

  “The chief will give me to the giant warrior,” she said, trembling. “Glava prefers the tiger’s fangs.”

  “Helgvor killed twenty times as many foes as Heigoun,” the nomad said proudly. “If Heigoun wants Glava, Heigoun shall die.”

  She lifted her head with a surge of faith and admiration.

  “Helgvor is braver than the snow eagle!”

  “Helgvor will not allow any man to touch Glava,” he said excitedly. “For her he would fight the chief of chiefs and the whole tribe!”

  Feeling that she would not be merely Helgvor’s slave, Glava felt an intense tenderness.

  The Moon was full when the canoe neared the Red Peninsula.

  It was toward twilight that Iouk and Helgvor first saw the dark trees and the reeds faded by autumn. Since the preceding night, they had been on the alert for Heigoun and his men. Helgvor decided not to take Glava to the tribe as yet, but concealed her in the bushes. He addressed Akr, more subtle than Iouk,

  “Akr shall go and see if the Tzoh woman, sister of Glava, is on the Peninsula. He shall also find out if Heigoun is hunting. Akr shall not allow himself to be seen.”

  Akr left, light and swift as a stag. When he returned, the Sun was rising over the forest.

  “Akr walked among the Ougmars,” he reported. “He was not seen! The Tzoh woman is on the Peninsula.”

  “Akr has seen Heigoun?”

  “Heigoun is not there.”

  “Helgvor then shall go to see the chief,” the nomad said, after a moment’s thought. “Akr and Iouk will watch over Glava?”

  “They’ll watch!” Iouk assured him.

  Glava listened, fearful. She did not wish Helgvor to leave her, but she knew his aim, and kept quiet.

  “Let Glava fear nothing!” Helgvor said. “Before the Sun reaches the black hills, Helgvor shall return.”

  Helgvor reached the Peninsula, and the warriors who saw him shouted loudly. Other men, women, ran forward, then came Akroun. He considered Helgvor with fretful elation.

  “Helgvor came back! Where are his companions?”

  “Iouk and Akr are waiting away from here.”

  “Why did they not come with Helgvor?”

  “They shall come,” he answered, lifting his voice to be heard above the cheers of the warriors.

  “And the foreign girl?”

  “Helgvor saved the daughter of the Rocks,” the tall nomad replied, his face set.

  “He also saved our own women,” the chief said, gently. “The Men of the River have not forgotten. What does Helgvor wish?”

  “That no one shall be master of the foreign women without his consent.”

  “So be it,” the chief promised gravely.

  “And if Heigoun protests?”

  “The warriors will obey the chief of chiefs.”

  Akroun’s way was firm. No Ougmar now dared to question his judgment. But he distrusted the obscure twists of destiny, and he wished Heigoun to disappear.

  “Helgvor always liked to obey Akroun, always shall obey him. But Heigoun will not obey. He will roam near the chief, roam near the daughter of the Rocks. Let the chief allow Helgvor to fight.”

  Akroun was perturbed. Should Heigoun win, all would fear him.

  “The tribe needs strong men!” he said at last. “If Heigoun gives up the foreign woman, Helgvor must not fight him.”

  “Heigoun will not yield her.”

  “Then,” the chief said after a long pause, “the combat is inevitable.”

  “It will be so,” Shtra put in. “Heigoun will attack Helgvor!’’

  The spectators were silent. Almost all dreaded the defeat of their hero. Because Heigoun was escorted by ten men, Akroun gave ten men to Shtra to avoid a surprise, but he concluded,

  “Ougmars must not fight Ougmars. Only Helgvor and Heigoun may fight!”

  “Thus shall it be,” Shtra agreed. “And if Helgvor wins, Shtra shall give him Glava for a mate!”

  “The foreign woman shall be Helgvor’s mate!’’

  Then Helgvor asked for Amhao, and added, “If Helgvor is vanquished, the foreign women shall not be slaves. They shall be permitted to go free.”

  The chief and the warriors having given their consent, Helgvor sought Amhao. She had lived somberly, for no Ougmar woman had befriended her. At the sight of the young man she trembled and wept. At first, poignant joy dominated her, then she feared the death of Glava, and she wept.

  “Glava lives,” he said. “Come.”

  She understood, cried out loudly. Then, submissive, filled with unutterable affection for her savior, she picked up her child and followed Helgvor.

  “The son of Shtra returns,” Akr said. “He is not alone.”

  Glava heard the light rustling of the bushes and, suddenly seeing Amhao, boundless joy dilated her chest and she threw herself upon her sister.

  Then Helgvor said, “Amhao and Glava shall follow Helgvor, and when Helgvor has found Heigoun they shall remain by the river bank, ready to flee in the canoe.”

  Glava then feared Helgvor’s defeat, and no longer desired the combat. But she knew that the clash was as unavoidable as the darkness which follows twilight.

  XX. For Glava!

  The endless world was the same, yet constantly died. The river rolled waters which were not the same waters, light succeeded light, and it was never the same light, night followed day, and it was ever another darkness, the beasts roamed the plains, and they were other beasts than the numberless beasts vanished into eternity.

  Heigoun, son of the Great Wolf, roamed, furious beneath the sky. He had the brutal temper of the boar, the ferocity of the flesh-eaters and a merciless pride. His ambition had been born one day when Akroun, thrown far by the horns of an aurochs, had nearly di
ed. While the chief of chiefs, in his hut, healed slowly, Heigoun dominated the others. His deception was bitter when Akroun lived. The son of the Wolf scorned Akroun, whose hair was dusted with the spray of old age.

  After the kidnaping of the women, seeing his followers increase in numbers and influence, he had condemned Akroun in his own mind. But his men had been too few and too timid. Helgvor had defied him and dared to claim the stranger. Moreover, the exploits of Shtra’s son had caused those of Heigoun to be forgotten.

  Thinking of such things, rage shook the warrior, jealousy burned his entrails. He wished to annihilate Helgvor with invincible stubbornness. Finding neither Helgvor nor Glava on the Red Peninsula, he had started out to seek them. His hope was to meet them either on the river bank or along the stream, for he thought they would follow that path.

  And one morning he halted in a cove. Five men who would become minor chieftains the day he won over Akroun followed him. All scanned the river and saw nothing but floating trees, grasses, twigs, leaves, carried away by the current. Heigoun wondered whether Helgvor had not reached the Peninsula since his departure. And as he mused, a voice hailed him, and he turned, astounded at what he saw.

  Helgvor had come.

  He stood on a hillock, armed with a solid stake and one of the bronze hatchets taken from the defeated Tzohs, bow hung over one shoulder.

  The giant replied to his call with a shout loud as the roar of a lion. His five followers advanced carefully, wishing to surround the young warrior, but Shtra appeared with the men given him by Akroun, and Hiolg, the boy, who had contrived to accompany them.

  “Why does the son of jackals come here?” Heigoun asked.

  “Helgvor wants to live in peace within his hut.”

  “Heigoun wants the foreign woman!”

  “Did Heigoun find her? Did he make an alliance with her?”

  “Before Heigoun, Helgvor is like a stag before the lion! Heigoun shall become chief of chiefs, and all the Ougmars will bow before him.”

  “Helgvor will never bow to Heigoun, nor obey Heigoun.”

  “Did Heigoun go and dare the Tzohs within their camp?’’ Shtra, irritated, spoke in turn. “Did he bring back 20 women? Did he kill 15 warriors? Helgvor shall be a great chief.”

  Heigoun brandished his stake, but when he saw Helgvor grasp the bow, he hid in the bushes. His men imitated him and an arrow hummed close to Helgvor’s head. Then Helgvor, Shtra and their men took shelter in the thicket. Silence weighed on land and waters, beast no longer saw the erect beings. Then the voice of Helgvor rose.

  “Does Heigoun want peace or war?”

  “Heigoun wants Helgvor to submit or die!”

  “It is well! Helgvor and Heigoun shall fight.”

  Then Helgvor took his bow in hand. He had six arrows, but Shtra and his warriors gave him 20 more. Before shooting, the young man warned,

  “Helgvor is ready to fight!”

  There was no reply, and the first arrow whistled. It shot through the leaves, near Heigoun, who laughed scornfully. At the fourth arrow, a roar of fury burst out, and the colossus appeared. Blood dripped from his ear, and his face was twisting; he rushed like a wounded leopard.

  The twigs of the bush made the use of the bow awkward, and Helgvor was eager to fight. He showed himself, shot an arrow at random, for he was hurried, then his fire-hardened stake met the stake of the giant. The sense of fatality, submission to Destiny, held the other warriors aside.

  The stakes clashed as Heigoun sprang upon Helgvor at top speed, but the young man avoided the lunge by leaping aside. He thrust out in his turn, and his point struck the giant’s club hung from the shoulder.

  “Heigoun is as heavy as an aurochs! Shall Helgvor have to kill him with arrows?”

  It seemed that the son of Shtra was about to use the bow again, but the desire to clash hand to hand with his rival proved strong enough to make him retrace his steps.

  Heigoun lunged for the belly. The weapon slid on the ribs, ripped off a strip of skin. But Helgvor, pushing with all his might, had already driven his stake into his foe’s breast. Heigoun reeled and grasped his club. Because his stake was blunted, Helgvor changed it for the bronze hatchet.

  Formidable despite his wound, Heigoun whirled his club, but carried away by his spring, he missed Helgvor. As he rushed by, the bronze hatchet split his skull. He fell, the hatchet dropped hard twice more, and death came. For a moment longer the immense body palpitated, then Heigoun was still forever.

  “Helgvor is the mightiest of the Men of the River!” Shtra proclaimed in a resounding voice.

  And the shrill voice of the boy, Hiolg, repeated,

  “Helgvor is mightiest of men!”

  Glava and Amhao had waited, ready for flight, in the canoe hidden among the reeds. At intervals the girl was swept by cold shivers, she chattered as if winter had come suddenly into the sky. Her confidence died and was reborn. She saw Helgvor beaten constantly, saw him triumph constantly. Neither image effaced the other completely. She listened tensely, but the distance was too great, and she heard nothing save the monotonous voice of the flowing waters, the rustling of insects, and when she looked at Amhao, identical terror showed in their eyes.

  Steps were heard. Unbearable impatience drove Glava from the canoe upon the plain. The universe spun, Glava uttered a wild cry and sank to her knees. Helgvor, her beloved, had come back.

  She extended her arms, while her face dripped with tears.

  “The hatchet dropped the son of the Wolf,” Shtra said.

  Helgvor held the girl against his chest, and with her, he seemed to embrace the river, the forests and the plains, all space and all time. She was weak from a happiness composed of the tests she had survived, of the death from which Helgvor had saved her, weak also from the immense faith she had in his strength.

  Then Shtra said, according to traditions,

  “The daughter of the Rocks shall live in Helgvor’s hut. She shall be obedient, and he shall kill those who covet her.”

  THE GIANT FELINE

  I. Aoun

  Aoun, son of Urus, loved the subterranean country. There he angled for blind fish or livid crayfish, accompanied by Zouhr, son of Earth, the last of the Men-without-Shoulders, who had escaped the general massacre of his race by the Red Dwarfs.

  For days together Aoun and Zouhr would walk along the borders of the river which flowed through the caverns. Often the bank became nothing but a narrow ledge; sometimes it was necessary to creep along the passages formed in the strata of porphyry, gneiss or basalt. Zouhr lit torches made of the wood of the turpentine-tree, and the purple light was reflected back from the vaults of quartz above and the everflowing water below. Then they would stoop down to watch the pale creatures swimming in the stream, determined to find outlets by which to continue their journey, until they came to the wall from which the waters gushed forth. There they halted for a long time. They would have liked to surmount that mysterious barrier, against which the Oulhamr had vainly hurled themselves during six springs and five summers.

  Aoun, who was the son of Naoh, the son of the Leopard, belonged according to custom to his mother's brother, but he preferred Naoh, whose build he had inherited together with his untiring chest and his instincts. His hair fell in tangled masses like a stallion’s mane, and his eyes were the colors of blue clay. His strength rendered him a formidable antagonist, but he even surpassed Naoh in sparing the lives of those he vanquished when they groveled before him on the ground, and this was the reason that the Oulhamr mingled contempt with the admiration which his courage awoke in them. He hunted alone with Zouhr, whose feebleness rendered him of no account, but who was clever in discovering the stones from which fire could be obtained, and in preparing an inflammable substance from the pith of trees.

  Zouhr’s slight form resembled that of a lizard, his shoulders sloped away so rapidly that his arms appeared to spring directly from his trunk; this build had always been that of the Wahs, the Men-without-Shoulders, from the time of the
ir first origin till they were annihilated by the Red Dwarfs. His intelligence was slow, but more subtle than that of the Oulhamr. It was doomed to perish with him and only to be reborn in other men after a lapse of millions of years.

  Even more than Aoun, he delighted in the subterranean country; his fathers and the fathers of his fathers had always lived in countries full of water, of which a part disappeared into the hills or was lost in the mountains.

  One morning they found themselves on the bank of a river. They had seen the scarlet of the sunrise change to a golden yellow light. Zouhr knew that he derived pleasure from watching the flow of the stream, Aoun experienced the same pleasure without being conscious of it. They directed their steps towards the country of the caverns. A mountain lay before them, high and inaccessible; its summit formed a long wall. To the north and to the south, where the range was indefinitely prolonged, impassable masses arose. Aoun and Zouhr desired to scale the mountain; all the Oulhamr were anxious to do so.

  They came from the northwest. They had been traveling for 15 years towards the east and south. At first they had been driven back by floods, then, seeing that the land became ever more and more desirable and more rich in prey, they had grown accustomed to that endless journey.

  They grew impatient of the obstacle which the mountain placed in their way. Aoun and Zouhr rested by the rushes under the black poplars. Enormous yet benevolent, three mammoths passed by on the opposite bank. Antelopes ran away into the distance and a rhinoceros moved close to a promontory. Obscure feelings were stirred in the son of Naoh; his spirit, more vagabond than that of the storks, longed to conquer the universe. Then he stood up and went towards the rising ground from which he could see the frowning opening whence the river gushed forth. Bats flew about in the shadows; an intoxicating feeling came over the young man and he said to Zouhr, “There must be other countries beyond the mountains.”

  Zouhr replied, “The river comes from the lands of the Sun.”