The cooking fires smoldered, but did not go out, and the aroma of roasted meat soon filled the air. All were happy. Strips of flesh were hung, and the tribes settled in again for the time required to dry them. The leaders chafed and murmured, anxious to get back on the move, but the people were already constructing makeshift huts on a low hill nearby and preparing for a stay. They were tired.
By dusk a congregation of wolves was heard gnashing and tearing at the carcass, for most of the flesh still remained, and its odor had reached their keen noses. Two wolves in particular drew the interest of the travelers, who, having gathered as much food as they could use, were watching the animals feast from a safe distance on the rising slope. The pair was fighting over a strip of muscle that one of them had torn off. Both clung to the same flank with their sharp fangs, tugging, snarling, and refusing to yield. The competition amused a number of the tribesmen, who noted the folly of fighting over a small amount when there was abundance for a hundred wolves and vultures! At last one of the animals let the meat loose, but only with the purpose of assailing his rival’s throat. The witnesses above laughed loudly at this successful maneuver, and prepared to divert themselves with a struggle to the death.
Dael was not laughing, however. He was studying the combat with glowing eyes, drinking in the savagery as if he would acquire it for himself. Then, on a sudden impulse, he seized two spears and ran like a crazy man to attack the competing beasts. His friends called him to come back, but they were ignored. Dael threw one lance at the fiercer animal, piercing its chest and bringing it down with a yelp of pain. He attacked the other one too, forcing the second spear down its throat, as Zan-Gah had once killed the lioness. Dael then retrieved his weapons, panting for breath, and stood still with arms outstretched, a spear in each hand. His cry of triumph over the two dead animals was frightful to hear as he fairly shrieked to the sky. The spectators, stunned more by his wild cry than the deed itself, finally ran forward to protect him from the rest of the pack, for Dael was still in great danger; but the other wolves were so preoccupied with their greedy feed that they had ignored the entire episode and went on tearing and gnashing their fill. Their snarls would be heard throughout the night—and Dael was received like a hero.
Any part of a kill might be valuable. The slaughtered wolves were stripped of their pelts. Dael gave one of them to each of his Hru friends, Oin and Orah, who were delighted by the rich gifts. (They now were even more strongly drawn to their dominant friend and willing to follow his leadership.) The task of harvesting additional parts from the dead mammoth would be too time-consuming for people on the move, but someone wanted the tail, and Morda, the Hru chieftain, refused to leave the great tusks behind. It proved a long labor to cut these trophies from the carcass—which had begun to stink—but Morda owned hard stone blades, and slowly ground the tusks off with the help of Agrud, his long-suffering wife. As usual the women had been enlisted, carrying food, water, skins, and other necessities for long distances. Upon the eventual departure of the Ba-Coro from the site of their kill, the men marched ahead proudly, spears in hand. Their wives trailed behind dragging their heavy loads on pole carriages, including the cumbersome tusks.
As the travelers moved over the bare, unpeopled land, they enjoyed a southern breeze for a while, but then it was driven out by a cold west wind. After the chilly day’s trek, they took shelter by a stream in an area overgrown with brush—which contrasted with the rising and falling prairie. Suddenly Chul stopped to listen. His mouth always dropped open when he did, and he stared straight into empty space. He was hearing the shrill, whimpering sound of a small animal and he tried to locate its source. Dael happened to be nearby when, stepping into a cache of dry leaves, he was startled by a high-pitched yelp and a sharp pain on his shin. Dael reached down reflexively and discovered something warm and furry—two wolf cubs, one of which still had its small teeth in his leg.
These were probably the babies of one of the wolves he had killed. Dael picked a cub up with each hand by the scruff of the neck. They were weak with hunger and whining continuously. On the spot Dael adopted them and resolved to restore them. He brought them to vigorous health in a few days with water and prechewed bits of meat transferred from his mouth to theirs with careful fingers.
Zan and Pax noted with some curiosity and no little surprise the care and tenderness Dael lavished on the cubs. Zan’s violent brother had always hated the species, dreaming sometimes at night in fitful sleep that whole wolf packs were surrounding and attacking him, while he tried in vain to fight them off. Horrid dreams! Besides, these were the offspring of animals he had recently slain simply for the fun and adventure of it. Yet Dael formed a sudden and strong attachment to them. They became his children and the focus of the little love that was still in him. Thereafter, wherever Dael went with his energetic and determined strides, the wolves would be behind. He would strike or even kick them when they displeased him, threatening to make a meal of them if meat should be in short supply; and yet they fawned on him and followed at his heels. By the time the clans reached their destination several months later, they were full-grown young wolves, as tame as their owner.
Dael trained them in toughness, tugging at toys in their mouths and fighting with them for their food. He sometimes amused himself by teaching his pets to howl. Sitting with them and holding one under each of his strong arms so that their heads were close together, he would begin to bark and keen in a way that drew a howling response from the animals. Then Dael, imitating them, would wail at the top of his lungs, “arroo-roo-roo!” causing them to howl even more. Perhaps it was the affect of their kinship, or maybe the noise just hurt their sensitive ears, but it was a strange concert. The three wailing together drew the laughter of all who saw them, and excited a good deal of admiration as well. Dael was already known for his fierceness and courage, and the company of his wild pets, forming something like a family, made him remarkable and respected by many, feared by some. Dael would leap with the animals, play with them, wrestle with them. And he began to seem like one of them. He enjoyed no one’s company but theirs.
10
THE GREAT
SPLIT
Possibly the most difficult part of the journey would be crossing the great split in the earth. It had been one thing for a small party of intrepid youths to traverse the harrowing, wind-swept expanse; it was quite another to expect women, children, and the aged to scamper fearlessly across the gulf as Rydl might! The depth of the gorge was absolutely terrifying, and the bridge built some years before by the wasp men was slender and unsteady.
Chul, who was a good parent, understood the need to prepare the children. Well before they came to the bridge he would lead a group of them around in single file, as a gigantic mother duck might walk its ducklings to water—to everybody’s mirthful entertainment. It seemed to be a game, and the children enjoyed it, but it was really an exercise in trusting and following their leader. Yet when the time to cross the abyss arrived, Chul had to carry most of them in his arms or on his neck and shoulders, holding their urchin legs tightly in his grip. Rydl, that amazing acrobat, assisted, and even walked across on his hands to amuse the children and lessen their terror. Rydl was perhaps the only one of the entire group who was not intimidated by great heights.
There was another problem: Aniah was sick. He had become feeble with illness and extreme old age, and was so unsteady on his feet that Chul had to carry him on his back like one of the children—exactly as he had jokingly suggested some months before. Dael helped the women, who showed surprising courage and determination, while most of the men faced the ordeal with their usual bravado—each crossing accompanied by a chorus of cheers, laughter, and congratulations. How fierce Morda looked with a twisted elephant tusk over his shoulder! He made the crossing twice, risking his life to protect his prized possessions.
It was at this point that something unusual happened; Dael’s thinking began to change. That intense and inexorable man, watching the fearless antics o
f his enemy Rydl, became aware that he admired him in spite of himself. For many weeks Dael had wished to get back at Rydl, and thought of little else. Once again he reflected on the way Rydl had trapped him in his snare—had lured and outsmarted him. And although he could still taste his humiliation, he had to admit to himself that Rydl was a clever and dexterous opponent, and no coward. He was forced to respect Rydl and, strangely, he almost started to like him. Maybe he would take his revenge, and maybe he wouldn’t! Just now no private quarrel could be allowed to impede the difficult progress the Ba-Coro were making toward their new home. The elders simply would not tolerate it. Dael understood this and dropped for a time his former attitude of hostility, while still keeping his distance as he thought things over.
However, the volcanic nature of Dael’s psyche led to another schism that resembled nothing so much as the deep split in the earth, which unnerved all who saw it. The divide, the new fatal gulf, was between Dael and his twin brother. It is difficult to say what caused it. There was no quarrel, only a striking difference in their personalities and outlooks leading to ever-increasing division and conflict. One might have supposed that they would enjoy each other’s company, as they had during their younger years, now that they were reunited. But everything had changed. The brotherly friendship between them was gone.
Nor did it matter that they looked almost exactly the same—were mirror twins. The slight differences took on new importance. Zan still bore the scars of his battle with the lioness, whereas Dael’s shoulders were unscarred. And Dael alone happened to be left-handed, a cause of wonder to all who noticed, and fear to some. The left hand was thought to be soiled and sinister, and Dael had been taught from his infancy to use his right. However, whenever he was upset about anything, he tended to revert to using the left, and Zan observed that he now regularly relied on it. He even seemed proud of his ability to use both hands and was determined to be different from his twin. Otherwise, the two were remarkably alike—physically.
So it was a strange fact that Dael was accounted much more handsome than Zan. What distinguished them? Was it something in their bearing or stance? Was it that Dael’s intense eagle eyes conveyed conviction and authority, while Zan’s were full of hesitancy and doubt? And why did Dael attract followers, each one of whom assumed a similar look of certainty, as if there were no other way to see the world but theirs?
It was true. Dael had acquired a following. Indeed his young men were fanatically devoted to him, almost slaves to his intractable will. And before long Zan-Gah had a troop of followers too, as large but less aggressive and warlike than his brother’s. Since the return of Zan-Gah with his lost twin and the defeat of the wasp men in battle two years earlier, Zan had been an important young leader of the clan. But Dael had always resented his brother’s ascendancy, and refused to follow in his shadow. Instead he went his own way, and soon a group, which included Oin and Orah, were trailing his loping, determined strides and responding to his peremptory commands.
Many of Zan’s number were frightened by Dael’s violence and recklessness; but other men were drawn to exactly these qualities. Those who loved one brother began to hate or jeer at the other, and in time as they walked to their western destination, the Ba-Coro tended to divide into two groups—one circling around Zan-Gah and the other around Dael. It happened so gradually and so naturally that for a while the division went unnoticed.
Dael was a born leader, yet Zan was also a leader in his way. It was Zan who had brought unity to the five clans and helped guide them to victory over the wasp people. Zan lacked Dael’s dynamic personality, but he was respected for his wisdom, prudence, and ingenuity. Yet there was something terribly attractive about Dael’s animal aggressiveness. In time it would appear how quickly Dael could lead his companions into danger, while Zan would prove as careful with his followers’ lives as with his own. Every single one of the women favored Zan-Gah—a fact that Dael and his men quickly noticed and scoffed at. Zan’s followers were called “women’s men,” and it was no compliment!
Where distress and sadness once could have been seen in Dael’s eyes, there now dwelt a disturbing new arrogance and cruelty. Something new also crept into his speech. His tone was derisive, and filled with scorn for those with whom he disagreed. He could never pronounce “Zan-Gah” without giving “Gah” an undue, sarcastic emphasis. Even if others honored his brother, he had no intention of doing so. Rather, let Zan honor Dael—and beware of him! Zan observed his attractive brother with much more fear than admiration. Dael was like a force of nature now—a wild storm, a raging river, or a trapped animal that gnaws off its own leg. He was too dangerous to befriend, and too unyielding to advise or guide. Zan watched for any opportunity of reconciliation, but it was plain that Dael could not abide his twin or be swayed by him.
More than once Dael had declared that he did not wish to have a twin, and started to do things to change his own appearance. He began by shaving his scalp and youthful beard. Zan would have the same wild curls as before, but Dael would not. Even more bizarre, Dael started to cut himself, as if he enjoyed the pain, enjoyed watching the blood trickle down his arms or legs. Sometimes he allowed his wolf-pups to lick the wounds, and when they scabbed over, he would pick at them and make them bleed anew—all the time absorbed and fascinated by his self-punishing injuries. No one but his closest friends noticed this private activity for a while, but once others did, Dael gave his self-laceration a special turn.
As if in parody of Zan-Gah’s scars, which Zan had received from the lioness’ claws, Dael began carving quite different swirling designs on himself. He decorated his thighs and stomach, and, with the help of friends, his shoulders, arms, and face. A dark dye was applied to make the marks striking and permanent. The result was a fierce new identity so different from his brother’s that people who knew them both could hardly recognize them as twins. Soon Dael’s friends, in imitation of their leader, shaved their heads and began to carve similar designs on their own bodies and on each other’s. These physical alterations became their emblems, and the separation was complete: Dael’s party was shaven and scarified, Zan’s was not.
Some of the older men, and almost all of the women, recognized the inherent dangers of this schism. Aniah, feeble as he was, warned the tribes of the trouble they were making for themselves. Dael’s father, Thal, spoke to Dael for a long time without result. Chul refused to join with either group, and deliberately walked between them. Yet he was well aware that it was Dael’s party that fostered this dangerous separation, and his displeasure was apparent. Several of Dael’s men began to direct their mockery at Chul, and Oin once attempted to trip him for the others’ amusement; but Chul, without a word, kicked Oin in the backside and sent him sprawling.
When the tribes began their journey they had been a unified people; by the time they arrived in the new land they no longer were.
11
THE CRIMSON
PEOPLE
The first open division came just after the tribes had crossed the chasm. That had been quickly done and was a success. There were no casualties. Dael declared that the bridge should be destroyed, and was ready to bring fire to it. “We will go in no direction but forward, so let us remove the means by which cowards might retreat!” Dael’s partisans were ready to do his bidding as soon as a blaze could be started. But Zan, ever careful and prudent, protested loudly, and Chul scattered the smoldering twigs with his foot. Morda and several others agreed with Dael, and gave their reasons, but Zan’s more numerous supporters prevailed and the Ba-Coro moved on, the elders leading the way. The two contending groups followed them, and the women brought up the rear with their baggage. The wasting Aniah still had to be carried, and Chul, his friend, patiently bore the burden.
The earth was gradually becoming red as they approached the magnificent land of the red rocks. Zan and Rydl loved that country. The two had been happy when they lived there, and familiar sights brought back pleasant memories of the independent life they had enjoy
ed. Zan especially felt the renewed pleasure of adventure, and looked once again at the skull-like forms in the rocky walls flanking them. They revisited the cave dugout that had been their home—the “mouth” of the skull. Rydl reminded Zan of the time they had snatched partridges from a wildcat, and laughed. Zan still remembered the good dinner, and Rydl recalled to himself how, as a lost little boy, he had first begun to love and trust Zan-Gah. Entering the cool interior, they saw the mystical carved sign etched in the wall, and noticed that the store of grain beneath it was gone. Someone else had been there.
This was not a heavily populated area. Zan had passed through it four times without seeing a single soul, although he had occasionally noticed footprints in the reddish dust and knew that it must be occupied, or at least visited. The land, strewn with boulders great and small, provided many hiding places in the jagged shadows, dugouts, and collapsed cliffs. Zan loved and marveled at the sight of them, but now he perceived how dangerous they might be. At that moment, the Ba-Coro were threading their way through the maze of rocks. When the meandering reddish creek offered refreshment, everybody paused to rest.
Meanwhile a few men, Zan among them, kept a vigilant watch. Aniah, sick as he was, had alerted Chul to the danger of ambush, and Chul had passed the message of caution to others. Sharp-eyed Pax also addressed the danger, and was the first to notice that some of the red rocks seemed to be moving. It was not her imagination! Pax’s hunting sensibilities were so highly trained that the tiniest motion was visible to her. “Oh ah ah! Oh ah ah!” she cried shrilly at the top of her voice, causing the men nearby to start.
Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country Page 6