Visions

by James C. Glass

  Maki prodded with his foot, then kicked hard.

  “Wha—” grunted Han, somewhat the brighter and more alert of the two. “Do we get up, now?”

  “Quickly, before first light. We cross the valley this morning. Quiet. I’ll be outside.” Maki pushed the tangle of branches and thorns aside far enough to wiggle through to fir boughs covering the cave entrance, crawling out onto a shelf traversing the wall clear to the valley, and bypassing thick underbrush in the canyon below. There was grumbling inside the cave, then Dorald’s brute face pushed through the branches, grimacing.

  “I’m caught on something. Why are we leaving so early?”

  “Never mind. You’ll see why later.”

  “I’m hungry. I want to eat first before we—owww! What are you doing back there?”

  “Shut up! You’re pulling a tree after you. There, I’ve got it,” mumbled Han.

  “Hurry up,” said Maki, and in a moment the other two had tumbled out into a heap on the shelf.

  “Where do we go?” asked Han.

  “We hunt some more. Father was pleased with the meat we brought back, and I want to keep him that way. We’ll go to the next valley; I want to try and find Hidaig and his group, and see if I can talk an alliance. We’ll be out two nights.”

  “I should bring my throwing stick,” said Han.

  “No, leave it. Your hands must be free for carrying, and my sling is all the weapon we need. Come on, let’s go!” Maki moved off along the shelf, shivering a little in the morning cold. It would not do for them to see him shivering, for their skin fat was so thick they did not feel the cold while his was thin, poorly insulating the lithe body and delicate features he hated.

  The shelf remained wide down to the valley, and they moved quickly in a line: Maki, then Han and Dorald following, stomachs grumbling. At the end was a shear drop of a hundred paces, but a chimney big enough even for Dorald. They squeezed into it, backs against one side and feet pressing the other, quickly wriggling their way down to ground level. In a few minutes they reached the edge of tangled underbrush, and stared out at open slopes leading to the valley and forests beyond. This traverse was always dangerous, the place where they were most easily seen. Maki instructed the others, “Stay right behind me, and do exactly as I do. Don’t stop until we reach the trees.”

  They nodded gravely at him, so he knew they understood the danger. Maki hunched forward to keep a low profile and moved off at a dog trot, pacing himself so Han and Dorald could keep up and he could be comfortable, for although he had considerably more speed than his companions he did not have their endurance. Under no circumstances could he allow them to see a weakness of any kind in him.

  The jog was downhill at first, exhilarating in morning cold, then leveling out on a grassy plain leading to cultivated fields ready for harvest. The Hinchai fields were full of food, and he heard Dorald’s stomach growl at the sight. Better to stop a moment and satisfy the Tenanken’s hunger than to risk a foul temper later in the morning. Maki angled towards the field of thick, tall stalks where they could hide while eating. From there it was only a short sprint to the trees. In a moment they were surrounded by food hanging in silken pods attached to thick, yellow stalks. Vegetables crunched and popped as strong jaws of Tenanken hunters flexed. As they ate, Maki crouched alertly at the edge of the field, his eating style dainty compared to the others. Dorald’s loud belch was a signal to leave, and Maki led them across a plowed field, vaulting a short, wire fence which the others scrambled over clumsily, and then they were hidden from view in the trees.

  They kept to the trees all day, climbing out of the valley to a high hill beyond which was solid forest without the stench of Hinchai, an untouched land as in The Memories. Near dusk they came to a hill thick with trees and scattered outcroppings of pegmatite, where they found a small cave littered with tiny bones from which the marrow had been removed. Maki sat at the cave entrance for several minutes, eyes closed, casting a vision of caverns filled with Tenanken and then of a hunter posing with a long spear and a sling, an idealized portrait of himself. There was nothing in return, no gentle, instinctive tuggings to point him in a particular direction. Dorald and Han watched him quietly until he opened his eyes.

  “It appears they’ve moved on. I’m sure their caves were near here.”

  “I’m hungry again,” said Dorald.

  “Of course you are,” said Maki. They hunted until darkness, taking two bushy-tailed tree climbers, partially cooking them over a tiny fire started with Maki’s fire-stones and tinder soaked in sap.

  In the morning, after a fitful night crammed together in the little cave, all of them were hungry. Dorald was ravenous.

  They followed the forest for hours, watching for game and seeing none, searching each cave for signs of habitation. Privately, Maki worried about the move of Hidaig’s band, small in numbers, but proud and fierce. If they were still around, a welcome would have been sent by now, for Maki’s tall, slender form was easily recognizable at large distances. Why had they moved on?

  A few minutes later, Maki had his answer.

  Even Han’s stomach was grumbling, now, and Dorald had ceased complaining, eyes glinting dangerously. It was a bad sign; they had to find game soon, or the stupid one would go completely mad, attacking anything or anyone around him. Maki felt both fear and desperation, searching for movement in the trees, but even the birds were still. And then, faintly at first, he heard a sound: grinding, then rapid, clanging beats close together, then again the grinding. It was beyond the trees, and he turned towards it, the others dumbly following. The sound grew louder and louder until Dorald and Han both stopped, eyes wide, and Maki knew he must go on to show his courage and leadership. Tales of his strength and boldness in the face of the unknown had already been told in the caverns, and committed to The Memories forever. His companions were far behind when he reached the brow of a hill, and looked into a shallow valley devastated beyond belief.

  Hinchai were everywhere.

  Uprooted trees were scattered in all directions, a wide gouge in the earth stretching nearly to the foggy horizon. Hinchai males rode animals pulling huge, shiny monsters spewing white steam and noise, destroying everything in their path. Maki stepped behind a large tree, trying to escape the noise, but it seemed to be coming from all directions, crushing him. He breathed deeply, fighting back panic, then walked back crouched over to where the others waited nervously for him.

  “The invasion has begun,” he told them breathlessly. “The main Hinchai force is below, destroying everything in its path. Now perhaps my father will listen to me, and begin to kill our enemy. We must hurry to warn him, and prepare for war!”

  “How can we fight so many when they can even destroy the land? We have to move like the other bands, Maki.” Han was nearly pleading. “We can’t go back, now. Let’s find Hidaig’s band, and take some females to make our place where the Hinchai can never find us.”

  “And where might that be?”

  “To the west. The hills are solid trees to the west, and there are only scattered Hinchai, alone and unprotected. We could make dominance there.”

  “You forget that our ancestors came from the west. What do you think they were fleeing? I’ll tell you what; thousands and thousands of Hinchai, and their noise, and destruction of the land. To return west is to die; it is a stupid suggestion. We must make a stand here, or a little north. It is our last place.”

  “Your father will send the Tenanken out to live among the Hinchai. He says they are our cousins, that we are of them in most ways, and can—”

  “My father is a foolish and feeble old dreamer who lives with memories of past days without Hinchai, and keeps his eyes closed to the present. He has the affliction of the old, and it is up to our generation to preserve the lives and dignity of the Tenanken, even if it means war! We will not be forced into Hinchai subjugation, I tell you, and we will retain our identity or die! Do you stand with, or against me in this?” Maki’s voice seethed with t
he passion of a zealot.

  “We follow you where you lead us, Maki,” said Han quietly. Perhaps he actually understood, but Dorald was hopeless, his brain operating at a level only high enough to obtain food and defecate. His usefulness would be limited, although around those who didn’t know him his physical presence was usually intimidating, and Maki could make good use of that.

  “For now, we return to the caverns, and try to organize those few who might be willing to fight. Come on.” Maki turned on his heel, and marched away from the noise and steam. The others followed silently until Dorald suddenly giggled, and said, “I kill Hinchai.” Han shushed him, but Maki called back over his shoulder, “Follow me, and you’ll get your chance, but you’ll do it when the time is right.” What kind of fantasy was playing in the big Tenanken’s feeble mind?

  They marched until the sun was again low in the sky, and the changing direction of the wind told them evening was fast approaching. Their route remained high on the hills, where Hinchai rarely ventured, and they could see far in every direction. It was Han who first spotted the stream of smoke coming up from the trees. An open fire, or another Hinchai settlement? They were only a half-day march from the caverns, and this was something new. Han pointed it out to Maki.

  “It’s on our path, so we’ll look,” said Maki. “I hope it’s a settlement, and they have animals. The Hinchai have scared much game away, and I don’t intend to return empty-handed on this trip.”

  They kept to the trees, and descended the hill until they saw a small clearing. Nestled at the edge of it was a substantial cabin, and a small shed with an attached log fence penning in several tusked animals related to others in The Memories.

  The men sat on their haunches and watched the place for several minutes. There was no sound except the snorting of the animals. It seemed whoever lived there was away for the moment. They moved in cautiously, following Maki’s hand signals, coming up on the cabin from the nearby trees to give them a quick retreat. They pressed against the wall of the building, listening, then Maki stood up and peered cautiously inside. Nobody there. Three rooms in the structure, and a fireplace, and something else, something he wanted badly. He motioned for the others to come near, and whispered, “There’s nobody here, so we work quickly. You two kill a couple of the smaller animals we can carry away. I’m going inside.”

  Dorald was grinning broadly, eager as usual for bloodletting. Maki left them and went to the front of the cabin, pushing, rattling, fiddling with a knob on the entrance cover until it suddenly opened. He studied the mechanism, quickly seeing how the door held shut when unattended, then went inside and shut it behind him. The room was warm, and a pot of food was bubbling over the open flame of an enclosed cooking fire in one corner. Maki only sniffed at it, then went straight to the fireplace over which the long pointing weapon was hung on two wooden pegs. He lifted it off gently, caressing it as he worked the lever until he saw the yellow projectile inside. There were ten others strapped to the broad part of the weapon that went against the shoulder.

  It was a weapon he was familiar with, one that had nearly killed him and Dorald in a previous raid. But without projectiles to throw, the weapon wasn’t even a good club. He looked for more projectiles, at last finding them in a box on the ledge above the fireplace. As he took them there was a squeal and a scream from outside, and a sound like the smashing of a gourd against a rock. Dorald laughed loudly, and Han was telling him to shut up, but the laughter continued until there was another pitiful scream, then silence.

  Maki searched the rest of the cabin, but found nothing more he wanted. He opened the cabin door and emerged triumphantly, clutching the weapon in one hand over his head. Dorald and Han, blood-spattered, were dragging two carcasses across the ground, stopping when they saw him. “Aieeee, look what you found,” cried Han, greatly impressed with the new power his young leader now possessed. “We’ve done well, too. These young boars will make a great feast.” He prodded one carcass with a foot, but was pushed aside by Dorald, who like a child wanted to show off his new treasure as well. The hulking Tenanken held up a new metal axe, now covered with blood, and swung it one-handed around his head with a whirring sound. “With my new club I will split Hinchai skulls, and eat their brains,” he growled.

  “You’ve done well, and luck is with us. Let’s go, now, before anyone returns.” Maki closed the door to the cabin as the others hoisted the carcasses on their backs. Maki took the axe from Dorald, and carried it with his pointing weapon. In a minute they were back in the safety of the trees with a half-day march ahead of them, and darkness was coming fast. They would have to spend one more night outside, and return to the cavern in the morning. Han and Dorald both grunted under their burdens, and before long Dorald was complaining about being hungry again. It was going to be a long night for the three of them.

  It was after dark when they reached the field they had eaten from on the way out, but noise drove them back to the shelter of the trees, and they watched fearfully as a great Hinchai machine chewed away the field illuminated by its dim light, spewing out a cloud of pulverized stalk behind and leaving nothing else in its wake. Fortunately for them the destruction was not completed.

  The machine stopped suddenly, the light disappeared, and in seconds a lone Hinchai was walking two great animals across the now barren field towards a distant structure they had not noticed before. A single Hinchai had controlled the entire machine! Maki gained new respect for the power of the enemy; still, without their machines, they were no equal to a Tenanken warrior.

  Maki turned to Han and Dorald. “It’s safe, now. You go down and eat your fill. I’ll stay here and guard the meat if you bring something back for me.”

  The others nodded, grinning, and left without a word, frolicking downhill in the light of a rising moon, like children at play. Maki felt relief at being left alone to think. The disappearance of Hidaig’s band bothered him deeply, for he had counted on them for support when the time for his father’s overthrow came, and that would have to be soon. If only Hidaig was at his side now, then he wouldn’t have to put up with dim-witted Tenanken who thought only of their stomachs. His own stomach was cramped from hunger, but he ignored the pain. Food was only necessary to sustain life, but the survival of the true Tenanken was everything to him. He vowed to venture out again very soon, and find the new Hidaig encampment.

  Maki watched for several minutes while Han and Dorald greedily stripped vegetables from their stalks, eating most, but dropping some in a little pile to take back up the hill. And when things began going wrong, it was subtle at first, Han eating, back turned to Dorald, the big Tenanken suddenly wandering away through tall stalks, the axe in his hand, heading towards the Hinchai cabin.

  When Maki noticed it he wanted to yell, because Han just sat there munching contentedly. Dorald was swinging the axe in his hand, heading straight for the house, then veering towards the right, out of sight behind some trees and soon there was a crash and a babbling chorus from eating birds kept by the Hinchai. Maki shuddered. So close to the cabin, and all that noise, Dorald’s hunger could cost him his life.

  Han had heard the sounds too, stretching to peer over the stalks, then looking back at Maki who motioned at him frantically to return. Han started up the hill at a run as the door of the cabin burst open, spilling light onto a stump, woodpile, and something moving in the trees. Dorald was carrying a thrashing bird. He raised the bird to his face, biting down on its neck until the bird was still. Maki could see him clearly, but trees obscured the view from the cabin. The Hinchai male appeared in the doorway, a pointing weapon in his hands, aiming at sounds among the trees and screaming in the language Maki was regrettably becoming familiar with.

  “You Goddamn kids! This is the last time you raid my hen house! Pick this out of your ass!”

  The explosion split the stillness of the night, a sheet of flame the length of a spear belching from the end of the weapon.

  Dorald screamed, a loud, piercing scream of agony, b
ut kept running.

  The Hinchai jumped backwards. “What the hell was that?” He jumped again, into the cabin, and slammed the door behind him

  There was shouting behind the door, and then—something—probing—passing through Maki’s mind like a wisp of wind—a vision of the caverns—Anka and Tel—his parents, grieving over something, a body lying before them. It was Maki’s body, face covered with blood.

  Maki forced the vision away, closing his mind to further intrusion. Who’s out there? He looked around warily as Han reached him, out of breath, and Dorald was scrambling up the hill, holding one side with a hand.

  The door to the cabin flew open again, and now there were two figures in the light. One was tall, the one with the pointing weapon, while the other was shorter but broad, nearly filling the doorway. “Second time this month,” came a shout. “These damn kids have no respect for a man’s property, and I swear to God I’ll blow them to pieces if they come back.”

  The second Hinchai’s voice boomed in the night. “Come on, Ed, losing one chicken ain’t worth havin’ a heart attack over, and besides, the kid’s probably out there in the woods now pickin’ buckshot out of his ass. If it happens again, we’ll get some folks together for a search party, and then we’ll have some real fun!”

  The two Hinchai went back inside again, and slammed the door. Ham flopped on his back, breathing deep. Dorald slowed down as he reached the top of the hill, head down because he could not endure Maki’s withering glare of anger and disgust. Dorald’s side was on fire, and blood oozed between his thick fingers, yet he knew he was not seriously injured. He walked past Maki and sat down next to Han, who examined his wound and said, “Many small punctures in the skin, but not deep. It should be washed, and salved.”