Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country

by Allan Richard Shickman

  Neither side challenged or informed the other, and yet, as if by agreement, both sides appeared on edges of the field on the same morning, standing in wait of the other’s attack. The drums had told them what to expect—not in any explicit way, but when by night violent percussion is engendering a wild dance of war, who fails to foresee the approaching combat?

  Dael’s men, scarified, shaven, and in an aggressive posture, appeared first on their side of the field, not long after joined by all the warriors of the Ba-Coro. The latter had the advantage of superior weapons, being well armed with spears, spear throwers, and slings. But the group as a whole was weighed down by the consciousness that it was they (or rather Dael’s faction) who had broken an honorable truce. The Noi men appeared opposite, emerging quietly and rather suddenly from a wall of trees. Their abrupt appearance as if from nowhere made a frightening impression, for they were very numerous. Moreover they were tall, strong men, moving in concert in a single formation which indicated decisiveness and unity. Theirs was the attitude of aggrieved victims of a naked betrayal. They surely had right on their side!

  Chul, whose huge bulk alone was like a weapon, led an attack. He did not wait for the Noi men to come into range with their spears, but ordered a fusillade of stones to be fired with slings before the enemy spears could present any danger. If the Noi meant to attack, they would have to do it under the storm of rocks flung with a speed and power they had never seen. Despite the repeated volleys of stones, they did attack on the run so that they could use their weapons before too many had been struck down. A number already were felled, but the Noi were brave and fierce combatants, not likely to take blows without delivering some in return.

  The Noi men fought fully as well as the Ba-Coro, but they had a single fatal weakness: they were frightened, even paralyzed, by the unfamiliar. Once, just after Dael had been released from captivity, he and Zan had been able to face down ten strong Noi warriors because they were terrified of twins. The men had fled as if confronted by twin demons! Now weapons were being used against them that they had never seen before. The Ba-Coro slings had stunned them with an unexpected barrage; and the launching of deadly spears from a hand-held throwing implement not only devastated their numbers with dead and wounded, but deeply demoralized them with the sense that some unfamiliar power or magic was being exploited.

  Chul’s gigantic size and bellowing voice also seemed strange and magical. Had Zan and Dael still looked at all alike, that alone might have turned the battle. Zan was well aware of the difference that might have made, but Dael, who had deliberately and dramatically altered his appearance, seemed unconcerned with the advantage they had lost.

  Despite their superstitious dread, the men of Noi had come to fight. Spears were being hurled on both sides, but the Ba-Coro were gaining ground. After much brutal battle and slaughter on the field—in which Rydl’s garden was thoroughly trampled—the Noi began to withdraw into the trees. Dael and his men were particularly forward in pursuing them, but once in the woods the benefit of their superior weapons was lost and the Noi were in a position to strike with sudden ambushes, so that soon the Ba-Coro withdrew too. Although they had driven the Noi away for the present, the battle had been indecisive; and the casualties were such that both sides knew that they could not sustain too many like it.

  Poor Rydl, who was too gentle to be a good warrior, had received a spear in the thigh, as Chul once had in battle. But Rydl was no Chul. The delicate young man collapsed onto the ground groaning in pain while blood gushed from his wound. Zan-Gah, seeing him fall, sped to his aid. He would carry him to safety, but it was absolutely necessary first to extract the spear from the wound. This Zan did as quickly as he could, ignoring Rydl’s scream of agony. He lifted the frail body of his fainting friend on his shoulders and carried him off, leaving behind a puddle of Rydl’s blood—which stained crimson the green swath that Rydl had so lovingly planted.

  Seeking a safe spot, at length Zan leaned Rydl against an immense fallen trunk whose jagged, exposed roots sprang upwards over their heads. It offered some temporary shelter.

  When Zan returned to the fight, it was already ending. Weary men, some themselves wounded, were helping to carry back the dead. Among the numerous fatal casualties were Morda and two of his sons. The young brothers were still handsome in death, and Morda still fierce and darkly frowning. Chul was hurt too. A Noi warrior had charged the giant with his long spear, but Chul had dodged the main thrust, slaughtering his assailant as he passed. Now, two men were bringing Morda’s once powerful body to a place of burial while Chul, although wounded, carried the two slain boys, one on each shoulder.

  Rydl also was carried back, half dead. Unlike Morda and the others, he had no family to grieve over him or to leap to his aid. But one who loved him, forgetting all of her coldness and reserve, screamed aloud when she saw his limp body borne from the field. Running to him in great distress, she threw herself on him with sobs.

  It was Sparrow. The sight of her bleeding friend overwhelmed her. Now she abruptly rediscovered the depth of her feelings for the wounded man, and she could not hide it. But things had changed; she was needed now! For several days she silently tended Rydl’s wounds, fed him by sips during his fever, sustained him in his weakness, and lay night and day by his side. With her loving help, Rydl would survive his hurt and the dangerous infection that followed. But he would be crippled for the rest of his life, limping deeply and supporting himself on a staff. He was lucky to be alive.

  Long before Rydl could stand, when beads of sweat still glistened on his brow in token of his pain and delirium, when he was still struggling to form his words, he apologized to Sparrow, breathing heavily: “I am sorry, gentle bird, that I could not love you as you did me, and that I am entirely undeserving of your affection, unworthy of your tenderness.” He needed a moment to recover his breath. At the time he was in agony and did not expect to live. “You must see by now that I could never love or marry any woman, not even one as lovely and mild as you. I have cared for you as a friend, truly I have, but it was not in my nature to do more.”

  Sparrow did not try to reply. She only pressed close to him as if she were indeed his wife, passed her slender arm over his heaving, upturned chest, and wept.

  18

  SIRAKA-

  FINAKA

  Siraka-Finaka, Chul’s short wife, had grown very fat but she was inwardly unchanged. Chul towered over her, but only in physical stature. It might be said that her forceful personality towered over her husband’s quieter one, and that her sharp tongue overpowered his slow one. The mother of three girls, she cared for little else, and was always fearful that they might lose their father if she did not curb her husband’s warlike ways. She did not hesitate to let Chul know that she considered the new war to be foolish and unnecessary; and her wrath against Dael and his followers knew no bounds.

  “You are an elder of our people,” said she. “Why do you permit a renegade band to make policy for us on matters of this importance? Your nephew—I mean Dael, not the good one—will get you killed. Then what would become of your family? Morda lost his great tusks and then he lost his two sons, and then he lost his life! Zan-Gah could die in battle too, and then what would Pax and her baby do? She is with child, you know.”

  “With child?”

  “With child, you blind oaf! We should have turned Dael over to the Noi when they asked us to, instead of defending him and humbling ourselves. You must realize that he is crazed, and I think you are too! My dear friend, Lissa-Na, who died trying to give a son to that brute, was of these same people we are trying to destroy. We did not hate her. Why do we hate them? If she had lived she would have found a way to settle this mess, which you are only making worse. Why can’t we come to terms with them instead of fighting? Would you like me to wash your wound again? Turn around, you old fool.”

  While she bathed the gash on his side, Chul thought over her words. He could find little to disagree with, but at the same time the idea of giving
his brother’s son to the enemy—an enemy who had kept and tortured him when he was a mere child, and certainly would slay him once he was in their hands—was not only unjust, it was unthinkable. Still, he resolved that Dael had to be controlled. He could not be allowed to foment further mischief between the two peoples. When Dael started trouble, the rest of them inherited the consequences!

  He remembered Lissa-Na’s fine qualities and wondered if others of her people had goodness too. Was it not so with the Ba-Coro? Among his own people there were some who were wise and deliberate, others who were stupid and rash. There were cruel people among them as well as kind. Even the twins—even Zan-Gah and Dael—sprung from the same womb on the same day, showed that people who ought to be alike actually could be very different. Must it not be so with the Noi as well?

  But even if it was so, even if the Noi divided into good and bad, it was uncertain which group had the upper hand among them. For that matter, who had the upper hand among the Ba-Coro? People not only disagreed with each other, they often were at odds with themselves, leaning one way by day and another by night. Now that Dael spoke to spirits he could tell his men what they wanted. Surely there were good and bad spirits too.

  Dael had tried a surprise attack with disastrous results. “Crazy as he is, he is not likely to try that again,” Chul said aloud to himself. The Noi were alerted and could not be surprised easily, and Dael’s following was smaller than it had been before. They would not be difficult to restrain. In the latest conflict both sides had suffered severe casualties, and neither seemed anxious to mount an attack. Perhaps it was a good time to talk.

  Chul wanted to act alone. He intended to walk into the Noi camp all by himself and speak to them man-to-man. But he reflected that the other elders would be angry if he did not confer with them first, so he approached them one at a time. They quietly agreed that someone should go to the Noi with an overture of peace, but Chul would need a translator, and there was no one but Zan-Gah.

  Zan was consulted and he groaned at the thought of returning to the Noi. He had no desire to become their captive and victim again, having barely survived his recent visit. And he questioned the wisdom of Chul’s resolution to go. At length he was prevailed upon to take the risk, not wanting his uncle to go alone. It was too dangerous. He kissed Pax warmly and tried to calm her fears. Her pregnancy was beginning to show.

  The plan was kept secret from Siraka-Finaka. Chul knew very well that she would object to the father of the family taking on such dangers. By accident she heard about the mission, however, and refused to permit it. Chul would stay at home and let someone else go with Zan-Gah! Small as she was she had great authority with her husband, and this time she was determined to use it.

  The marital quarrel that ensued was almost violent, but it did not last long. Siraka-Finaka finally declared that if her husband were fool enough to go, she would go along too! She was not joking. All of Chul’s protestations and growling threats could not change her mind. At last Chul agreed, providing that she came secretly and kept her tongue from wagging. He knew he would be the butt of every man’s guffaw if they discovered that he had been accompanied by his woman. Chul was more concerned about disgrace than the very real possibility that none of them would return alive. But they went. Their children were left in the care of Zan-Gah’s parents and the three quietly departed, Siraka-Finaka struggling bravely to keep up with her plump little legs.

  When they approached the camp of the Noi, they were immediately taken captive, but this time the presence of a woman cast their sudden arrival in a different light. It was apparent that these visitors intended no harm, especially in broad daylight. Zan’s former visit had been at night and seemed suspicious. Despite Chul’s great size he could do no harm, surrounded as he was by Noi warriors. His wife’s short figure was an object of mirth, and the very presence of a woman on such a mission seemed ridiculous—but not threatening. Siraka-Finaka’s attendance probably saved their lives.

  The party of three was conducted to a circle of elders. These were once handsome but now craggy men who resembled nothing so much as the elders of the Ba-Coro. Chul began in his deep bass and Zan-Gah interpreted. Siraka-Finaka knew enough to hold her peace. “Many have died,” Chul said, “and many more have been wounded. We did not wish to waste lives in needless battle, but it happened. It was the fault of a small group, which will be punished! They broke the peace, not we.”

  Chul did not know how Dael’s group could be “punished” but he said what he knew he had to say if there were to be any hope of a settlement. “Let there be no more fighting, but let each of us raise our families in peace. We give our promise that we will not attack you if you do not attack us.” Chul and Zan knew that their position lacked substance because it was the Ba-Coro who had violated the truce. But what more could they say?

  There were murmurs among the Noi. Chul’s offer actually was tempting to their diminished ranks. Yet it would not be accepted. Two men came forward and the youngest spoke out. He was a tall and goodly man, one of those who had asked for the tusks of Morda when he had been among the Ba-Coro. His aged father, a respected chieftain, stood behind him: “Why should we believe you?” the younger man said with some contempt in his voice. “Your wretches attacked sleeping men, and later came at us in force to kill and burn. We sent them on their way, and will do the same with the rest of you!” Several of the Noi huffed their assent.

  “We had not provoked you, but you made war on us. Still we came to you with an offer of peace and you see what came of it! The latest fight cost us dear, but we have learned valuable lessons and are not afraid. We will not trust you again. You are not decent people. And we will not wait patiently for you to assault us, but beware our attack!” Again, loud grunts of the elders signaled assent and unity. “We burn our dead tomorrow. Come to the field of battle the day after and you will find us there. For now we release you as honor demands.” He stressed the word sarcastically, and even Siraka-Finaka understood the implication: The Noi had honor; the Ba-Coro had it not.

  The older man, crowned with a headdress of bright, arching feathers, was obviously an elder of great prestige. “Make no mistake,” he added, coming forward with a clenched fist, his long, bending plumes trembling as he spoke. “You cannot frighten us.” He glanced at Zan-Gah. “If you have magic we have magic too. You will not destroy us. We will live!” His intense grimace, which deepened his wrinkles and showed his lower teeth, was that of one who had spent his life surviving bitter trials. “We are an ancient people, used to hardships and war. We will live!”

  Chul, Siraka-Finaka, and Zan-Gah returned to their camp, and Chul told the bad news: The war would continue. The drums began to sound again, clashing against each other over the peaceful surface of the lake. Every male prepared for the approaching confrontation. Still in Siraka-Finaka’s mind there was a glimmer of hope. The Noi considered themselves decent and honorable. Who would have known?

  19

  FUNERAL

  PYRES

  That night great fires were reflected in the beautiful lake, visible from both sides; and all the next day the two peoples smelled each other’s funeral pyres. Cremation was permitted in times of war when burial and the building of barrows would take too long. Ashes would be saved and monuments erected, but later, after the fight. There were several corpses to dispose of, but Morda’s had a place of special honor, as did his two dead sons, whose mangled bodies were laid on either side of their father. The sons had been Dael’s men and their heads were shaved, their limbs and torsos decorated with scar patterns. The surviving sons as well as Morda’s brothers had grim expressions harboring thoughts of revenge in the coming battle, while Morda’s daughters and his patient wife were melting in tears as a roaring fire reduced their loved ones to nothing.

  Dael’s sleep was troubled as usual. Among the phantoms that haunted his dreams, one in particular had lately gained ascendancy—so much so that Dael could almost depend upon its appearance. He avoided sleeping
, knowing that the specter would come. It was Hurnoa who visited him—or rather her gray, disheveled head, eyes glazed, dripping with blood, and haloed by an eerie light. Dael would toss and thrash, trying desperately to run but curiously unable to move. The head spoke in gravel tones, as Hurnoa had in life. Dael wished he could forget her hateful language but he clearly understood her words—although the sound of her voice seemed weirdly detached from her moving lips: “Why do you not run, Dael? Leave your people in peace. You are no longer one of them. Go to the fire-mountain and throw yourself in.” And in a moment he was there on the summit, flinging himself into the fiery heart. He woke up trembling and sweating, and there was Zan.

  “Are you all right, Dael?” Zan asked. “What did you dream that disturbed you so? You are still shaking.”

  “It is with anger then,” Dael replied, coming to himself. “I dreamed I had a spear in each hand and was slaying my enemies two at a time, and you were running away.”

  “Dael,” Zan said, “this hatred is not good for you. Isn’t it possible for you to put it aside?”

  “Don’t you hate anyone, Zan-Gaahh? Have you never hated someone with all your heart? Maybe you would if you had lived in a cage as I did for two years. If you had been submitted to indignities too shameful to mention, and been fed unspeakable things when you were fed at all. They are cannibals, you know, Zan. At least I think they are,” and he began to gag.

  Zan put his arm around his brother, who shook to get it off, but Zan did not let go. “Dael, you must forget all that. You know yourself that some of them were not evil people. Lissa-Na was one of them, and who was ever a better person?”

  This time Dael did pull loose, wheeling violently and slapping his brother powerfully in the face with the back of his left hand as he turned. “I told you never to speak of her. If you ever mention her name to me in connection with those, I will slay you, I promise you. Then I will not have a twin.”