Helgvor of the Blue River

by J. -H. Rosny aîné

  At last the Oulhamr shouted his triumph, “Aoun and Zouhr mock the Men-of-the-Fire.”

  Meanwhile the lion had disappeared. For a moment the Chellians continued to watch the hillock, then, at a sign from their chief, they directed their steps towards the north.

  “They are more active than Zouhr,” said the Wah sadly, “their chief is as strong as a leopard!”

  “Aoun does not fear him…and we have allies.”

  He dragged his companion along with him, and when the pursuers arrived at the turn of the shore a clamor arose from the hill. Ouchr and seven other Wolf-Women had appeared; the Chellians, discouraged, gave up the pursuit.

  The women came down to Aoun, and Ouchr said, “If we do not kill the Dhole-Men they will return with their horde.”

  The Oulhamr understood her after she had repeated her gestures and phrases.

  “Have they spoken of their horde?” he asked the Wah.

  “It is two long days’ marches from here,” Zouhr replied, and after gazing at the women he added, “If we attack them they will kill many of the women, and some of them will doubtless succeed in escaping.”

  Aoun’s blood boiled, but the fear of again losing his companion prevailed, and he also had a benevolent feeling towards the Chellians because they had not killed their captive.

  XIV. The Flight from the Chellians

  Aoun, Zour and the women were fleeing. They had been chased by the Chellian horde for more than a week. A woman had noticed them first, and Aoun, stationed on a high rock, had counted 30 men. The fugitives’ march was delayed by the Wah, who could not go fast, but Ouchr knew of winding ways through the forest where Zouhr, aided by the marshy land, invented stratagems to lead the enemy astray. Every time they came across a shallow water course, they walked up or down its bed for some distance; on several occasions Ouchr and Aoun set fire to the dried grasses through which they had passed. So the Chellians lost their trail: but they were numerous and obstinate, and dispersed in different directions to find it again. On the eighth day, the band crossed the torrent on the bank of which Aoun had left the Lemurians. The Oulhamr would have liked to go up stream, but Ouchr pointed out a safer way, and they turned again towards the south of the plateau.

  The day of the new moon came, and they had not seen the Chellians. Their halt that day was a happy one. It was in the jungle, for gradually the fugitives had neared the plain and were approaching the river. Enormous bamboos surrounded the open space. There was still daylight, and men and women were busy cutting wood for the fire, and constructing a refuge with thorns, creepers and saplings. A red glow succeeded the amber light; a fine mist rose towards the clouds; wind murmured in the luxuriant vegetation and Aoun’s soul was full of solemn yet gentle feeling. The same weakness that caused him to spare the life of his vanquished foes, made him tender in his manner towards Djeha of the supple shoulders. His strength became feeble in the presence of her magnificent hair and the wonderful light in her eyes; her timidity was more intoxicating to him than victory. Fleeting dreams came to him, which he did not understand. Sometimes, when he reflected that Ouchr’s consent was necessary, and the possibility of a refusal crossed his mind, the violent spirit of the Oulhamr possessed him and shook his whole being. In reality, however, he was prepared to submit himself to the customs of these women, who shared his perils.

  When the stars came out above the bamboos, he went to the woman chief, who was finishing her repast, and asked, “Will Ouchr give me Djeha to wife?”

  When Ouchr understood she was undecided. The laws of her race were very old, and by dint of repetition they had acquired strength and preciseness. The women of the horde were not to unite themselves with the Chellians or the Lemurians. Disaster, however, had engendered profound uncertainty. Ouchr did not know if any men of their race still existed. And Aoun was her ally.

  She answered, “This is what we will do: first we must escape from our enemies; then Ouchr will strike Djeha on the chest, and she shall be Aoun’s wife.”

  The Oulhamr only understood a part of this reply; fervent joy took possession of his heart. He did not notice that Ouchr was sad; she did not understand why he preferred this lithe young girl to the woman chief, of the muscular hands and heavy jaws…

  They continued their flight next day, and the day after that. They were now quite close to the river. A line of rocks appeared, like those where the giant feline had his lair. There was nothing to indicate the presence of their enemies; even Ouchr began to think they had given up the pursuit. In order to make quite sure, she clambered up a high rock with Aoun and Zouhr, from which a good view of the surrounding country could be obtained. When they reached the top they saw the river winding around a bend between two steppes, then, still further off, some human beings on the edge of a jungle, who were advancing towards them.

  “The Dhole-Men!” said Ouchr.

  Aoun made sure that their number had not diminished, and said, “They are not following our trail.”

  “They will find it,” said Ouchr.

  Zouhr added reflectively, “We must cross the river!”

  It was an attempt in which even the strongest swimmers could hardly hope to succeed; crocodiles abounded in the mud, on the islands and about the promontories. The Wahs, however, possessed the art of crossing water by means of big branches and split trunks of trees, bound together by creepers and withies. Zouhr led the troop down to the bank of the river, where black poplar-trees abounded. Two trunks stranded in a cove made their work more rapid. Before midday the raft was ready, but the enemy was near. They could see their advance-guard at the turn of the river, 3000 or 4000 paces off. When their improvised raft left the bank, the Chellians set up a great clamor. Aoun answered them with his war-cry, and the women howled like wolves. The fugitives drifted obliquely from the shore. As they were being taken downstream they got closer to their enemies, and the two bands found themselves at last face to face. They were separated by a distance of only about 200 ells. The Chellians were assembled on a promontory, to the number of 29, all thickset, with Dhole-like jaws and muscular hands. Their round eyes were lit up by a violently ferocious light. Several of them made as if they would throw themselves into the water and swim after the raft, but a python and several crocodiles appeared among the lotus leaves.

  Meanwhile Aoun and Zouhr and the women, with the aid of branches, changed the course of the raft. It passed between two islands, spun around, returned for a moment towards the bank where the Dhole-Men were standing, then took a southwesterly course… Ultimately it went aground on the opposite bank, and the women shouted insults at the Chellians.

  The band plunged into the jungle until it was stopped by a tributary of the river. It was a shallow water course, the bed of which was easy to walk in. But before they started Zouhr made them cut the skin of a swamp deer into pieces, and he explained that when they left the river bed, each of them was to wrap up their feet in the bits of skin. They disembarked on a rocky cape and having all of them wrapped up their feet, they splashed water over their halting place.

  “Zouhr, is the most cunning among men!” exclaimed the Oulhamr… “The Dhole-Men will think a herd has passed here!”

  The Chellians had however so often recovered the trail that the fugitives thought it wise to walk on until nightfall without stopping.

  XV. In the Defile

  The ground became marshy. They had to plunge through mud, or toil along the bank. For two days the fugitives advanced no faster than creeping beasts. Then the river was locked between steep banks, and an enormous wall of schist barred their way. It was 3000 ells long, and 600 high; to the west it rose out of the river, and on the east it was rooted in an impenetrable marsh. There was only one outlet, a narrow defile which was hollowed out at a height of 200 ells, and access to which was gained by slopes interspersed with reddish masses of rock. Aoun, who was walking at the rear of the band, came to the entry of the pass, and stopped to consider the place. Meanwhile Ouchr had gone on. She soon returned and ann
ounced, “The marsh spreads out on the other side of the rock.”

  “We must cross the river again,” said the Wah, who had followed the woman chief. “There are trees, we can make a raft.”

  Aoun gave an exclamation, and stretched out his hand. Men had appeared below them, between two pools. There were seven in number, and their appearance was too characteristic to leave any doubt as to their identity.

  “The Dhole-Men!” cried Ouchr.

  Their number continued to increase. Aoun’s chest swelled. He sniffed the feverish breath of the marsh waters and gazed at the abyss.

  “Long before the raft is built,” he said, “the Dhole-Men will be upon us!”

  Heavy stones lay around him. He rolled several of them to the entrance of the pass, while Ouchr, the Wah and the women carried others… Between the two pools, they saw the Chellians crawling along. Death lay in the advance of those somber figures.

  Aoun said, “The son of Urus and three women will defend the pass. Zouhr and the other women will build the raft.”

  The Wah hesitated. He fixed his trembling eyes on his companion. The other, understanding his fear, added, “There are four spears, and two harpoons. I have my club and the women their javelins. If we are not strong enough, I will ask for assistance. Go, only the raft can save us.”

  Zouhr gave way. Aoun chose Ouchr and another deep-chested woman to remain with him. When he turned around to choose a third, he saw Djeha, who advanced towards him shaking her hair. He wished to put her aside, but she looked at him with eager gentleness. Love was upon him, the tender choice which, among the Oulhamrs, only Naoh had experienced. The old story repeated itself; he forgot peril and death.

  The Dhole-Men approached. Having threaded their way between the pools they spread out over the rocky bank. One of them, whose body was as hairy as that of a bear, displayed enormous arms; he wielded without difficulty a spear which was heavier than Aoun’s club. They scattered as they approached the mass of rocks, so as to discover a way round. There were several gullies hollowed out of the mass, but they all ended in perpendicular walls of rock; the defile seemed to be the only way out.

  Aoun, Ouchr, Djeha and the third woman were completing its fortification; they also collected boulders with which to crush the assailants. There were two ways of gaining access to the pass: either directly by the bed of the water course through which the spring and autumn rains made their way, or obliquely through a labyrinth of boulders. The direct way would allow of an assault three or four men deep; the roundabout way forced the besiegers to adventure themselves one by one, but the attack could be made from above on those below…

  The Chellians stopped 100 ells from the rock. They watched the movements of Aoun and the women; their large faces mocked them and their blue lips showed brilliant white teeth. Suddenly they set up a lugubrious howling, which was reminiscent of the howling of wolves and Dholes. Aoun displayed his harpoon and his club!

  “The Oulhamrs will take the Men-of-the-Fire’s hunting grounds from them!”

  Ouchr joined her hoarse voice to that of the son of Urus; she cried, “The Dhole-Men have massacred our brothers and sisters. Our allies will destroy the Dhole-Men down to the very last…”

  Then there was a long silence. A warm damp wind came up from the marshes. Eagles and vultures hovered over the crests. Monstrous gavials could be seen on the islands; the sound of the river was heard in the vast solitude, fresh, living and unending as in the first days of the world…

  The Chellians divided into two bands. The chief led the first among the maze of boulders; the others tried to reach the defile by the direct way, hiding themselves in the fissures and behind boulders…

  Aoun’s sparkling eyes counted the enemy. He lifted up his bow ready strung; Ouchr and her companions, at the first signal, were to stone the assailants… But they remained invisible or only appeared among obstacles which made it almost impossible to hit them. A Chellian did however show himself; the bow twanged and an arrow pierced his ribs. Hoarse shouts were heard; the wounded man disappeared… Aoun was on the alert and was ready with a second arrow.

  Soon they returned to the attack, especially those who were trying to make their way by the indirect road, where several warriors had reached the height of the defile. They could not be seen. To carry out their plan they would have to get even higher and scale a narrow ledge, from which they could jump down one by one…

  Meanwhile the direct way was invaded; a powerful voice thundered and 15 men hurled themselves forward in a furious dash. Arrows whistled, boulders were pushed down and rebounded, ferocious and plaintive cries re-echoed from the rocks… The Chellians had not been arrested in their course. Despite endless stones hurled at them and the flinging of a spear, they succeeded in getting to within eight ells of the pass. Three had rolled down into the ravine, two others were wounded; Aoun saw the mass of faces coming ever-nearer to him; he could see the fire in their eyes and their panting breath. Then with a desperate effort he flung an enormous boulder, while the women made the stones roll wildly. A lugubrious howling resounded from the rocks; the besiegers retired falling over each other, and Aoun was about to detach another boulder when a stone hit him on the skull.

  He lifted his head; a face surmounted by red hair mocked him; four forms bounded down in quick succession. Aoun had fallen back. He held his club in both hands. Ouchr and Djeha brandished their javelins. There was room for three pairs of combatants to meet face to face.

  There was a momentary truce. Fear of the stranger kept the Dhole-Men motionless; Aoun pondered whether he should call for help… He was confronted by the enemy chief, who stood before him a picture of massive strength. His javelin was an ell longer than that of his companions; power and the habit of victory seemed to exhale from his whole being…

  He began the attack and his javelin tore Ouchr’s side. But Aoun, with a weighty blow, beat down his weapon, and his club crushed the shoulder of a warrior who had sprung forward to assist his chief.

  The man fell to the ground, and was at once replaced by another; new assailants came up from behind. Then Ouchr gave the cry for help, which was repeated by Djeha and the other woman, while the Chellians flung themselves upon them with wolf-like growls. The son of Urus struck down three javelins in as many strokes, breaking two of their points; Ouchr wounded a Dhole-Man in the chest, but the third woman sank down with a deep wound in her body…

  The aggressors had recoiled before the colossal club. They were massed at the entrance to the pass; the chief with uplifted spear, stood an ell’s length in front of his men, the places of those whose weapons were damaged being taken by others.

  With a fierce laugh and grinding his teeth, while his piercing eyes kept watch on every moment of his adversary, the Chellian chief charged. The Oulhamr avoided him, but the javelin tore his thigh and he stumbled; the chief gave a victorious cry… He was answered by the club. The thick skull of the tawny man was cracked; he fell backwards with a hoarse cry into the arms of his companions.

  For a moment the Chellians hesitated; but their numbers continued to grow, and they charged again. The terrible club broke the points of their javelins and crushed their chests; Ouchr and Djeha fought without ceasing. They were forced to give way however, being outnumbered, and they were nearing the point where the defile grew wider and the Chellians’ attack would become more effective.

  The son of Urus succeeded by an immense effort in breaking the javelins on every side of him, and the enemy became motionless … A furious clamor arose from the other end of the defile, the Wolf-Women appeared; twice Zouhr’s bow twanged and his arrows were imbedded in the shoulders of the enemy. Aoun raised his club for a supreme blow.

  Panic set in; the Dholes retired in a mass, dragging their wounded and even their dead with them; they overthrew boulders, rolled down the slope, took refuge among the rugged rocks and fissures. Only one dead man and one wounded one, who was groaning miserably, were left upon the ground. The women finished him off…


  Uncertainty kept the besieged motionless at the entrance to the defile. The Chellians had once more become invisible; dead bodies lay among the blocks of schist.

  Then the women became elated by victory. They stooped over the boulders, they shouted wildly. Aoun, despite his wounds, was filled with a proud joy. Was it not he who had broken the shock of the javelins, struck down the chief and spread terror among the Dhole-Men? He had also saved Djeha from the javelin which was about to pierce her breast; his look met that of the woman warrior and a subtle emotion mingled with his triumph, in the presence of those beautiful dark eyes and that magnificent hair, which was more beautiful than the finest plants of the savannah or the jungle…

  The Wah said, “Zouhr and the women have found wood in abundance… The raft is almost finished.”

  “It is well! The son of Urus will remain with six Wolf women to defend the defile… Zouhr will finish the raft with the others.”

  A sound of lamentation arose. The wounded woman felt a mysterious horror creeping over her, the icy breath of complete nothingness. Turning her dilated eyes towards the heavens, she saw great vultures and white-headed crows hovering over the dead bodies… Her small and narrow soul swelled with an immense desire. The forests and clear dawns passed before her eyes, the days of abundant life, the evenings when the fire shed its warm life around it. The memory of the past was hers, that memory which is born of speech and resuscitates the days which have been spent, a possession which the gaurs, the Dholes and the lions do not enjoy. For a moment she experienced bitter regret, the burning fever of remembrance. Then she became unconscious. The flash of insight which had laid death bare before her had faded away. She was only a dull animal which goes out, leaving the vast world undisturbed, and her face became rigid. Her companions set up a solemn wail, a confused melody which foreshadowed the rhythm and songs of a later humanity.