Although Rydl had a loving heart, he had never been in love with a girl. Possibly it was not part of his makeup. Sometimes Rydl would touch Sparrow’s lips and cheeks, but it was part of the lesson to him. Not to her! Dael and his companions were soon making singsong jokes at their expense, and imitating Sparrow’s wide-eyed look of affection. Dael and his friends were becoming a problem.
Rydl’s whole life had been a struggle to survive, yet this had not the least bit affected the sweetness of his character. He was not inclined to violence, but something had to be done about Dael. Why Dael hated him so much was hard to say. Like all of Dael’s obsessions, it was ruthless and unshakable. He regarded Rydl’s ways as effeminate, which he detested; and Rydl had been born a wasp, which made him one of the enemy in Dael’s secret thoughts. But mostly, he disliked Rydl because he could not begin to understand him, and that made Dael doubt himself.
The clash finally came. There was no avoiding it because Dael desired it—and Rydl was ready. An angry exchange of words and Dael was chasing Rydl with his spear. At the first opportunity, Rydl scrambled up a tree and Dael, who did not see him escape, wondered where he went. He looked all around, checking behind tree trunks and in the brushy areas that were choked with dry leaves. As he searched, Dael spied something he wanted, a brilliant blue feather lying on the ground and gleaming in the sunlight. All the Ba-Coro people prized feathers, and this one was a beauty! As he went to get it he stepped in a hole—and the trap was sprung! Dael suddenly found himself helplessly hanging by one leg from a large but supple tree, which bent but did not break under his weight.
The bright feather had been bait. Rydl’s large snare worked exactly as the small one had. He descended from his hiding place with three easy swings of his arms, and picked up the feather, idly examining it while Dael dangled. Then seizing the spear, which was lying on the ground, he pointed it directly at Dael’s left eye: “You are stronger than I am, but a bear is smarter than you. I could kill you right now, but why bother? You will soon enough kill yourself.” Then he said: “Being smart is more important than being strong.” He threw down Dael’s spear and left him hanging there until Oin and Orah found him and cut him down.
8
A
DECISION
The death of Hurnoa at the hands of a loved brother had deeply troubled Zan, but there was nothing he could do to bring the old woman back. The dead cannot be returned to life again. It was time for the living to go home. Hopefully, travel and conversation would help bring Dael to himself. There was no practical way to punish him, but Zan hoped the killer would repent in time and regain the gentle humanity he had once possessed.
As the travelers progressed to their cavern home, they thought a good deal about Hurnoa, but none spoke of her. Rather, they talked at length about the fate of the wasp men and the mysterious spirit that had destroyed them. Discussion then turned to the wasp men’s country, and as they passed from one difficult terrain to another, the rich land they had left behind seemed more and more desirable. The remembrance of the fetid odor of death did not quickly leave their minds; but who could resist the temptation of a place where food was always plentiful and the eye was always delighted? Pax, her white feather still attached to her scanty clothing, sidled close to Zan and said that she hated to leave the Beautiful Country.
Zan had been quiet and thoughtful (he almost always was), but broke his silence when Pax spoke because she had touched on the very thought that was occupying his mind. “Why are some lands so much more pleasant and generous than others?” he mused aloud. “And why do we remain tied to the hostile place we dwell in now? Game is always scarce. Nobla, our river, dries up in the summer, and we are forced to move up and down, always in search of something to eat. We follow the herds, ever just beyond our reach, and almost become a wandering herd ourselves, foraging for food.”
For once Dael, who walked a little in front of his brother, was responsive to his thoughts: “We will inherit the wasp men’s land. We have but to move there and take it for ourselves! We will eat their game and pick their fruit, and sometimes we will step on their ashes!”
The journey went quickly. Before they reached the deep chasm, everyone in the group was talking eagerly about a move—except for Rydl. That fair country had once been his home, and his mind churned at the thought of a permanent return to the place where all whom he had known were gone. For Rydl it was a land of ghostly memories, and he was glad to be leaving it. How could he ever forget the smell of his father’s corpse, or live untroubled in the place where so many kinsmen had perished? But the idea of moving was so much taking hold that Zan began planning what he would say to the elders of the Ba-Coro.
One of these elders was Chul. (Chul was not very old, but he and Thal, his brother, had inherited the esteemed position upon the death of their father Bray, who had long held sway within his clan.) Zan spoke to Chul about the possibility of a new home. Elder though he was, Chul could be as excitable as any child. The proposal stimulated his appetite for adventure. He was a man who always had thrived on action, but had given up the wilder undertakings of his youth when the first baby came. Chul’s short wife, Siraka-Finaka, had succeeded in tying the giant hand and foot, and he was always chafing and struggling against domesticity, for which he was actually rather poorly suited. When Zan first broke to him the idea of a migration of their entire people to this beautiful land, his jaw sagged and his eyes lit up. Then he thought of his wife, Siraka-Finaka, and frowned.
How should Chul persuade the chieftains of the desirability of such a move? He knew full well that he was slow of speech, and that whenever he did speak the listeners would smile and whisper to each other as though he were a fool—although any man would be a fool himself who dared to call Chul one! Who else could present the arguments persuasively? Dael would probably be silent as a stone; but on occasion Zan-Gah could prove an eloquent speaker. Had he not united the five clans to repel the wasp attackers when they were immersed in their ancient feud and were completely vulnerable to an alien assault? Zan would have to convince the men (the women need not be consulted) that this dangerous trek would be worth the effort. And Siraka-Finaka could do as she pleased.
The chore of convincing the elders was not as difficult as they had expected. The hunt had failed, and the men of Ba-Coro were just returning from an almost fruitless search. Zan’s group met them on the way. A council was soon held, and Zan prepared to make his arguments. Dael also, for his own reasons, was ready to back up his brother in council. Zan-Gah began with these words: “We have visited the land of the wasp people.” There were exclamations of wonder. How had they escaped alive? “The wasp people are no more,” Zan continued, and again there was uproar. Had these few travelers succeeded in killing the whole populous clan? What lies were they being told? Then Zan explained: “They fought among themselves in bloody war, but their final destruction was at the hands of a demon. Every one of them sickened and died, touched by the invisible fiend. By the time we arrived they were all dead, and how their bodies stank!” Zan did not mention Hurnoa’s lone survival or her horrible murder. “The land is empty,” Zan cried. “The demon has been expelled with fire, and the country is ours for the taking!”
Zan’s listeners did not immediately understand why they should wish to take possession of the land. Dael, who seldom addressed a group, now spoke. In elaborate terms quite unlike his usual speech, he described the richness of the place: “Every time you put your hand in the water, you bring out a plump fish! Then you look across the lake and see deer on the far shore drinking and kissing their reflections! None of us need ever again be hungry!”
Dael described the fair flowering trees and swore that no one, seeing the country, would ever desire to live elsewhere. He was convincing. He did not speak of the hidden desire that motivated him—his mischievous longing to be closer to his old enemies, the Noi. In truth Dael cared nothing for the fruitful trees. He was already plotting revenge against his old enemies and tormentors.
Aniah was a good listener and had held his silence, but now he spoke: “Every land seems fairer than the one you are in. What of the killing demon that dwells there? The wasp people were more numerous than we, and yet you say that they were completely overwhelmed. Those who rose so proudly in the morning were dead with the setting of the sun. Might we not be rushing to our death, and not our comfort? The journey alone could kill some of us! You and your brother are young and strong, Zan-Gah, but some of us are old. Others are babies in their mothers’ arms. We will surely find new dangers and new enemies too. Why should we seek out those who hate us?”
Chul, who had a braying laugh, laughed now. “You have grown timid in your old age, Aniah. The killing devil is now gone, or we would not have survived to return home. Our bodies would at this moment lie stinking beside the corpses of the wasp men. Do not fear the journey, my friend. If you get tired walking, I will carry you on my back! Haw, haw!”
The men all laughed heartily at Chul’s raspy guffaw, and at the thought of Aniah being carried on the giant’s hairy back. Aniah laughed too. He and Chul were great friends, and often joked with each other. “I will be content to go, Chul,” he said with a wink, “as long as I do not have to carry you!”
The men of Ba-Coro roared with mirth once again, but opinion was swaying in Zan’s direction. Aniah preferred to present his views and then let others make the decision, and many more words were put forth, both for and against a move. Oin and Orah spoke up, confirming Dael’s lavish description and boasting how they had fired the wasp men’s houses.
Apparently, Zan, Chul, and the others had presented their project at a good time. These chiefs were weary of hunting without success. They were weary of struggling with their hostile, comfortless world. They wanted to see fruit trees in bloom and deer kissing the water! Some, indeed, were reluctant to move to a place where everyone had died, but the prosperity of the land tempted them. Thal, the father of the twins, came to Chul’s aid and expressed his confidence in his sons and his “big brother.” Everybody laughed again, and ended the council in a merry mood. A decision had been made.
The women had long been left alone, hungry for meat and hungry for their men. They were outraged to have waited so long for so little game, but they had been worried at the unusually lengthy absence of the hunters. Rejoicing and tender reunions greeted the men upon their return. Then there was amazement. No one had expected to be going anywhere; but they made no protest other than to grumble when Thal, Chul, Morda, and other elders told them to prepare for a long journey.
Many of the women felt slighted that they had not been invited to deliberations directly concerning their welfare, but they were hardly surprised to have been left out. They little expected to have a say, and knew that they would serve the men like beasts of burden, carrying and dragging water and supplies, while the men planned for their protection. However poor their land, they had dwelt on it for many generations. Their caves and hovels were their home and their safe shelter. Unwillingly the women did as they were told, gathering their possessions and waiting for favorable weather.
When, almost three months later, the time came to begin the journey, the Ba-Coro said farewell: to Nobla, the river that long had sustained them, to their sacred caverns, and to the tombs of the departed. Lissa-Na and her baby had died in one of the caves, and Dael visited their common grave the night before they left. Zan did so too—quietly and unknown to anybody.
Chul was elected the leader of the trek because he knew the way, and because his monstrous figure, seen in the forefront wielding a huge club, would tend to frighten off any enemies they might meet on the way. As the clans began their expedition, Chul intoned a hymn of rejoicing with his heavy bass voice, followed by a deep and dirge-like march in which all joined.
9
THE
TREK
Weather is everything to those who travel the land, and the weather was good when the five clans of the Ba-Coro began their passage to the Beautiful Country. Autumn was approaching by the day of their departure, with its empty, bright blue skies and bracing gusts. Some foretold a speedy trip, but the progress turned out to be snail-slow. The women and especially the children were unused to travel, and the men were frequently obliged to go on hunting excursions to supply their needs and simply to give the weaker among them a chance to rest.
The elders began to worry. Winter was not so very far off, and the fair weather they had been enjoying could change at any time. And suddenly it did change. A whistling wind began to pursue them, carrying black clouds in their direction, while flocks of geese warped overhead, fleeing the blast with loud and raucous cries. A few drops were felt, then more, until the travelers were pelted and drenched by torrents. Half a dozen trees made a scanty shelter, and they hunched down, the men doing their best to protect the women and children. They could not build a fire, cold as they were, and could only sit, patiently enduring the icy downpour. Those who had animal skins wrapped themselves as best they might while rainwater dripped from their ragged beards. Zan and Pax were nestled together under Zan’s large lion skin, more comfortable than most; and Rydl made no objection when Sparrow took shelter with him.
The storm got worse. An angry wind raved amidst the branches overhead, and below whole families huddled together for warmth. They sat without a word as lightning came and went, followed by claps of thunder that made the children cry. Perhaps these forlorn migrants would have suffered more if they were not used to it, but cold and rain were their usual fare. Still, people would get sick. Two days after the drenching a baby died, and Aniah had a rasping cough that boded no good. Several others were ill, and all were weary and wishing that they had never left the safety of their caves.
In time the weather turned fine again, but the air was crisp—colder than it had been earlier. A warming blaze became possible at last, and gave some relief. The men gathered around it, making plans, while the women were sent to gather fuel where they could find it. Then the clans moved on, treading the expanse of empty land to a rolling section where they would ascend to the brow of a hill and sink down, only to approach another rising and take it in their stride. The rains had left mires in the lower sections, which, for all the fair weather, were unpleasant to traverse. Whenever the band did cross these marshy places, they were slowed down and chilled. Carrion-devouring birds were seen circling overhead, but at last it was time to camp for the night, and a great new fire dispersed these creatures of prey.
The next morning, the clans awoke to an unusually thick fog that greatly limited their vision. The people were not inclined to move from their relative comfort when they could hardly see, and they began renewing their fires and warming themselves. However, the leaders, conferring together, resolved to press on, and goaded their clans to move. Every breath of wind reminded them that delay could be fatal.
But moving was dangerous too. Silence would be required. In the thick mist, careless chatter might alert unseen enemies and leave the group open to ambush; so a call for quiet was whispered from one to another. The men glanced around with unusual vigilance, clinging to their poison-tipped spears and readying themselves for anything that might spring at them. Every so often they were startled by the cry of a bird or animal they could not see.
The laborious, half-blind advance had not gone far when Chul, who was in the lead, motioned the train to stop. Just ahead, enveloped in fog and only faintly visible against the heavy, misty air, was the ponderous form of a mammoth. Its great domed skull, dark fur, and dangerous tusks would be seen close up, but at first it seemed almost as white as the surrounding vapor—a massive, monstrous blur. It turned out that its huge hooves were sunk in a morass of mud, and it was hardly able to move.
What luck! With a bru
sque hand signal and no word spoken, Chul alerted the numerous travelers. The babies were hushed and muffled as the women noiselessly drew back. At the same time, Chul waved some hunters forward with their envenomed spears.
The men knew what to do. Splitting into two groups, each band walked stealthily in single file to form a large ring around the great animal (a curl-tusked hill of hairy flesh), and at a signal threw their sharpened staves at their large target. The shrill elephant cry was dreadful as the men simultaneously struck. The mammoth struggled clumsily against the mire and the strange invaders, panic in its eyes. But it was doomed. The more the trapped beast strove, the more it slipped and sank. The thick hide protected it from an easy kill, but the powerful poison, entering through small wounds, did its work. The pathetic creature collapsed to its knees, flailing the ponderous trunk and screeching in terror. When it heavily lay down on its side, still wallowing, ropes were used to ensnare the hooves and trunk.
A few daring youths mounted atop the recumbent animal, among them Zan-Gah, who with grim efficiency stabbed at the animal’s soft throat with repeated spear thrusts. When he hit an artery, the blood issued out in jets, covering most of Zan’s body with the red shower and spilling onto the muddy bed beneath. The helpless animal thrashed and throbbed for a while, making strangled, snorting noises. Then its breath stopped and it was dead.
The hunters were silent at first, awed with their own accomplishment. Then, in the deep fog, and despite the danger of being overheard, a dull cheer of relief and rejoicing rose. It had been an easy kill, and here was meat enough for all the five clans! There would be no weary foraging for food for a while. Women and men began slashing the flesh with stone blades and axes, swarming over the hulk like hungry ants, or flocks of black-winged vultures, which, in a few hours, can strip a carcass clean. Everybody was covered with blood, but they didn’t seem to mind—and after a while a slow drizzle washed it away.
Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country Page 5