Mot and Ara rarely referred to Tom in true Arzat fashion, which would have been to use his father’s name in conjunction with his own. Just as Mot was the son of Url and Ara the daughter of Zan, Tom would formally be Tom, son of Richard, in Arzat etiquette. But, ever since Tom had flown the two of them and Alex from the Nevada ARC to the unoccupied Utah ARC in a mad dash to escape the impact of the asteroid, the Arzats most often used “Tom Pilot” or simply “Pilot” when they referred to him, almost as a surname.
He reached out and presented his long knife to Ara holding the blade so that she could take it by the handle. “I still can’t believe how easily you read my mind, Ara!”
She tested the blade, seemed pleased, and immediately began using it to sharpen one end of the long shaft of wood. Tom winced when he saw how much pressure she was able to apply and worried even more that their one-and-only knife might snap under the pressure.
“As even you said, Tom Pilot, you must learn to block,” Ara said, concentrating her attention on her work. “But, that is only for other Arzats and perhaps Alex. I have been inside your mind and have seen almost everything there is to see, so really . . .” She shrugged without looking up. “Anyway, I will do my best not to damage this precious blade, for I too understand its immediate importance.”
“I can’t telepath with Alex, Ara,” Tom said, suddenly forgetting all about the knife.
“You might if you tried, Pilot.”
Tom wondered for a moment if that were true. Could I really telepath directly with Alex?
“Now,” Ara said, glancing up from her work to make sure that Mot was still eating, “I am a poor craftsman, and I only know of these things from stealing a look now and then . . .”
Even in his head, Tom could tell Ara was making some sort of sardonic statement.
“Of course, Pilot Tom, the Arzat females were certainly never allowed to directly create weapons or to ever partake in a hunt. But, if one were to keep one’s eyes open . . .” Ara paused, the pupils of her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked directly at Mot and Tom. She seemed to be smiling.
Tom continued to watch Ara craft the weapon, liking her more and more. Despite her assurances, he still grimaced each time Ara put her enormous pressure to the knife. In only a few minutes, she had skillfully carved the tip of the long shaft into a rather sharp point and had deftly skinned the rest of the branch and cut another indentation two thirds of the way toward the other end.
“I must say, Tom Pilot, we Arzats never had a blade like this. We did have metals, but they were much softer. Most of our cutting was done with sharp stone.”
“I am hoping that later, I can figure out how to forge some more like it, Ara.” Tom expected Ara to immediately ask him more about forging, but the female Arzat remained silent, apparently concentrating on her project.
When she was finished, she placed the sharp end of the wood into the fire and twisted it in the red-hot coals until the end appeared to glow. Ara removed it and blew on the hot end as a test, then snuffed it with her bare fingers and eyed the entire piece. Satisfied, she gripped it in both hands and presented it to Mot who had finished eating and had been watching his mate just as transfixed by her efforts as Tom had been.
“It is not much, Mot, Great Hunter, son of Url, but it is the best I can do at this moment,” Ara said, holding the piece out to him. “Go now and find Alex, as you have said you will do. Tom and I will follow when the light comes. If there is trouble, I beg you to please wait for us. If we should fail to find you, meet us here, in this very place.”
Far off, deep in the night, a bolt of lightning lit the sky. All three of them knew what it might mean. A few moments later, the light was followed by the deep and ominous sound of distant thunder.
“Thank you, Ara, daughter of Zan,” Mot said, looking down at the weapon, proud of her accomplishment and amazed by it. In another time, Ara’s act of creating such a thing would have been considered an atrocity in the Arzat culture simply because she was a female. Now, it had been a necessity, and Mot was happy to have a mate so capable. How was it possible that the Arzat males had so completely underestimated their females, Mot wondered again?
Another bolt of lightning flashed.
“You must go now, Mot,” Ara said, glancing in the direction of the white light.
“I will leave you signs, in case the rain washes my scent,” he replied to his mate.
Mot turned to Tom. “If it is the will of the Great Creator, I will find Alex alive and return her to you, Tom the Pilot. But I will find her just the same.”
He rose, took a few steps, and looked back at Ara. “Beware of the night,” he said, and then he instantly disappeared into the forest.
CHAPTER 22
FIRE FROM NOTHING
The evening twilight had quickly faded from the clearing and Alex found herself trapped in the near dark with an angry Arzat. Now she could barely see him as he kept beckoning her to the pile of branches he had so obviously placed for a fire.
“Do you know how to make fire, uman?” he continued to ask her aloud in the amazingly difficult Arzat language.
During their time together in the ARC, Alex had worked with Ara for hours and hours trying to master the correct pronunciation of just a few Arzat words and phrases. Alex had failed miserably. She could speak Spanish fluently with a reasonable accent and had, at one time, even been able to master some French, but the spoken Arzat words had seemed nearly impossible.
“Alex, you must learn to fold back your tongue,” Ara had told her, as if doing so was the easiest thing in the world.
The Arzat pointed again at the wood. “Make fire!”
Should I show him, she wondered? She could clearly recall her father Simon demonstrating to her as a young girl how to create the friction necessary to create fire from two pieces of wood, and she had watched Tom demonstrate to Mot the method with flint and steel. Alex had almost no doubt she could get a fire going, but what would happen then? Will he kill me?
God, what I wouldn’t give for a book of matches or a BIC lighter right now, she thought, still blocking. That would really blow this guy’s mind.
Za’at was beside himself. The only reason he had allowed this uman to live in the first place was his hope that she could show him the secret of creating fire, and she had been nothing but trouble ever since. Now he began to wonder if she even knew how? Perhaps it was a skill only a select few of the smooth-skins possessed. Perhaps it was something only the uman males could accomplish. That would make some sense. Someone in that camp had known, that was for sure, he thought, remembering how Ack had stumbled and fallen into the uman’s fire.
Za’at knew he was going to have a very difficult time explaining to the Elders the circumstances of Ack’s death. Unless he came up with something incredible to show them, he might as well just kill this female and be done with her. Perhaps, he began to consider, I could at least save some face by showing up with her cleaned and perfectly skinned carcass. I will save her head as a trophy and the proof.
“I will give you one chance,” the Arzat said to Alex, pushing her toward the dry wood. “If you cannot show me the secret of fire, uman, than I shall kill you and have you for dinner raw.”
Za’at leaned close to Alex as a threat, baring his line of sharp, white teeth as a warning. Even in the low light, he could see her clearly. There was something disturbing in the female’s eyes, some level of comprehension that made him uncomfortable and even angrier.
Well Alex, I guess you have your answer, she thought. He might kill you if you show him but he is definitely going to kill you if you don’t.
Alex rummaged around in the pile and found two pieces of wood that she thought might do the trick. One was almost flat on one side and the other a short piece that was almost perfectly round and about a foot long. Both, thankfully, were extremely dry. She jammed the flat piece between some rocks and used another to indent the surface, making sure her movements were slow and purposeful. She then took the str
aight round piece into both of her hands, inserted one end into the indentation, and began to rub her hands back and forth rapidly, occasionally glancing at the giant Arzat who was watching her intently. Nothing was coming from his head, but something in his demeanor seemed to doubt her process.
“Here goes nothin’,” she said aloud, blocking.
There were two methods that Alex knew of to try to create a glowing ember. One involved using a piece of wood with a slot and rubbing a stick up and down its length. The other was to vigorously rotate a round stick back and fourth in a single spot on another piece. She had opted for the latter, since that appeared to be her only option at the moment.
At first, nothing seemed to happen, and even Alex began to wonder if what she was doing would work. But, as she continued, she started to feel the friction beginning to generate heat. She tested the end the stick. It was hot, but it wasn’t even close to hot enough to cause an ember and she began to worry again.
“Patience, Alex. Patience! Stay with it. You’ve done this, remember?”
She increased her pace, breaking into a sweat as her fingers moved back and forth. Finally, there was a slight thread of smoke. The indentation in the flat piece of wood began to slightly glow and the end of the round stick was becoming red hot.
Alex held the stick up and blew. She had done it. There was actually a very slight ember glowing on the end of it. She quickly placed it into a small pile of dry grass and blew some more, agitating the end of the stick in the process. Finally a spark appeared, then another, and the dry grass burst into a small flame.
Alex carefully fed her fledgling fire with more dry wood until the larger pile had caught and began to spread. When she was sure she had succeeded, she sat back and looked at the Arzat in the light of the fire she had just created. His eyes were glowing with delight, locked on the flames.
She rolled back off of her knees into a crouching position that was almost exactly like the large Arzat’s squat and stared at him, still carefully blocking her thoughts. “There. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, mother fucker,” she said aloud, watching his eyes as his large pupils reflected the firelight.
Now all you have to do is convince him he cannot do it himself, she heard Simon say in her head.
“Very good . . . Very good,” Za’at said almost unconsciously, his eyes focused on the new flames. He had watched every move the female had made. Was it really that simple? Rub two pieces of wood?
Za’at found himself rubbing his own hands together with excitement. After all of these many seasons, no Arzat has ever made this discovery, he thought. Not before the Great Rebirth, nor after, has any Arzat ever mastered the creation of fire. Not even the Great Hunter Orn—who is the father of all Arzats—had MASTERED THE CREATION OF FIRE FROM NOTHING! Now Za’at, son of the Great Hunter Qua, his lineage of fine hunters clearly recorded back to the rebirth and beyond, has finally discovered the secret!
Suddenly, Za’at knew, his life had changed. No longer was he worried about dealing with the wrath of the Elders. This discovery went beyond any other judgment they might render regarding his leadership or the circumstances of the hunt. Despite the mishap with Ack, now he would not only be returning with the prize of the uman who had killed Ack but also with the ultimate prize of being able to create fire from nothing! No longer would the Arzats have to scramble to preserve that which the Great Creator only occasionally provided and which then had to be closely kept and guarded. The prospects made his head swim.
You will be the most famous Arzat in . . . in . . . the history of all Arzats, his head kept telling him.
Suddenly, he looked at the female. In the midst of his thoughts, she had uttered something aloud in the smooth-skin’s unusual high-pitched gibberish. He hadn’t understood it, but whatever the female had said had strangely felt like an insult. He watched her closely for a moment with her incredible blue eyes looking back into his—fearless. Za’at could have easily reached over and knocked the little female senseless, and he nearly did so, but something stopped him.
What other uman tricks do you know, he wondered, consciously trying to read the thoughts behind those strange white circles?
Eventually, Za’at turned his attention back to the fire the uman had started and that was now burning nicely, already in need of more fuel. He quickly retrieved more dry wood and fed the flames.
“You deserve a reward, little uman,” he said aloud as he stoked the fire, still delighted with his newfound prospects. “I will not kill you for the moment, but instead, I shall make you a dinner of roasted ree. Then, when Qu’aa rises, I shall decide what to do about you.”
CHAPTER 23
SNAP
After she had seen the lizard take the female, Maria continued down river and away from them as fast as her legs would take her, crossing in the shallows where she could to cover her own scent, sure that she would also be captured again at any moment. Fortunately, there were game tracks on both sides of the stream most of the way, which made the going easier along the water’s edge, and she was able to cover some distance. But, as daylight faded, the animal trails became invisible and she began to trip and stumble.
She had just about resolved to stop for the night when she suddenly smelled food. Curious and hungry, she continued making her way slowly and carefully along the side of the river, hoping to find the source of the delicious odor. In the last of the dying light, her heart stopped once when she thought she saw the shadow of another one of the lizard men across the water. The creature was headed upriver in the same direction the other lizard had taken with the woman.
She squatted, holding her breath, watching closely, but she could not detect any further movement after the first. The world had become dark grey over black and it was almost impossible to see anything clearly. Finally, she dared to exhale, trying to convince herself that whatever she thought she had seen had been only in her imagination.
As she drew a breath, the delicious aroma of meat cooking once again invaded her senses. She sniffed deeply. Could it be that there was a human camp close by? That would at least somewhat explain the sudden appearance of the other female.
In any case, someone was cooking something, and whatever it was, it didn’t carry the sickening stench of the human flesh she would never completely get out of her nostrils. If she somehow survived, she knew it would be her own dreadful secret for life that she had eaten the flesh of her mates.
But this was a much more familiar smell, that of roasted bison. Perhaps I am just imagining it, she worried, as she caught another strong whiff of the roasting meat in the air.
Maria was so hungry that she thought the aroma might drive her mad. I will pray to the Creator that it is not more lizard men, she thought, as she made her way closer to the source. Despite her fear, her curiosity and her hunger were making it impossible for her to stop following the scent.
She picked her way around another curve in the river and finally spotted the dim light of a fire glowing across the water. She could see vague shadows moving around the light, but she was still too far away to make out exactly what or who was creating them.
Maria crept, practically on her hands and knees, quietly approaching the firelight from the far side of the water, as if she were stalking prey. Then, somewhere along the dark path, her foot stepped on a dry branch and it cracked loudly. She stopped and held her breath, hoping whoever was occupying the camp across the river had not heard it.
* * *
Tom was gazing into the embers of the fire, trying to imagine what might be going on with Alex. His emotions told him that he should have gone with Mot to look for her, but his logic told him otherwise. There was no way he could have kept up with the much faster Arzat. He would only be a hindrance. Now, he was in the unfortunate position of having to hope that Mot could find her still alive, and then, somehow rescue her from the Arzat—or Arzats—who had taken her.
Ara squatted nearby, sniffing the night, flicking her tongue occasionally. Her hands were busy
with Tom’s knife crafting another killing stick. Though she was absorbed in her task, her senses were tuned to the dark around her. If danger lurked, she knew she was likely to become aware of it far sooner than the Pilot. As she worked, she also wondered about Mot and the fate of Alex.
The female Arzat was blocking her thoughts from Tom. She knew that Alex’s chances were not good, and unlike Tom, she held little hope that her mate would find Alex alive. Ara tried to imagine meeting a human for the first time under the circumstances that the mysterious Arzat must have met Alex. I would probably have killed her immediately myself, she thought, discretely eyeing Tom.
But the unknown Arzat hadn’t done that. At least Ara hadn’t been able to detect any immediate sign of it. She had smelled no blood and . . . well . . . she had just not sensed Alex’s death. I would know, she kept telling herself, as she put the final touches on the long shaft of wood. My senses tell me she is still alive. Maybe there is hope for her.
Alex and Ara had gotten off to a rocky start when they had first met, but during their time together in the Utah ARC, she had become close to the little human female. This was not altogether surprising at the time, especially since the two of them felt that they might be the only intelligent females left on the planet—as well as the fact that both of them were pregnant.
As far as Alex had explained it, the poisonous gasses that were released by the impact of the great fire rock would have killed almost every living creature on the earth. Obviously her female friend had been mistaken about the animals, and Ara vaguely wondered if she had also been wrong about humans. She had clearly been wrong about the Arzats—that was now a certainty.
But how was it possible that other Arzats still existed? During her time with the humans before their second great sleep, Ara had thoroughly probed Doctor Pete’s mind. She was absolutely sure that none of the other adolescents from her Zanta clan had survived. By touring Pete’s memory, she had been able to vividly relive their destruction and her own narrow escape.
IN NATURA: a science fiction novel (ARZAT SERIES Book 2) Page 15