The Way of the Seed_Earth Spawn of Kalpeon

by Richard Dean Hall

  Graf understood the offer and Ott’s enthusiasm. He leaned forward and asked Tarek the size of the animal. A hint of a smile played across Tarek’s face as he pointed at the hide Graf sat on. Graf looked down. The hide was thick and covered with coarse, black, curly hair. As he examined it further, he realized that Ott, Cha and Yaan were all sitting on this one single hide. It skirted well out from where they sat. Tarek again motioned to the hide and then swept his arm out over the village. Graf and the others understood. The animal this hide had come from was the reason the village prospered. Ott was eager to see such an animal.

  As they ate, Ott noticed movement at the mouth of the cave. An old man helped by two others shuffled toward the fire pit. He wore a well-made robe of the same type of hide Ott and the others were sitting on. A shock of thick, silver-white hair hung to his shoulders, and several necklaces adorned with carved bones, shells, and lumps of a bright-yellow stone Ott had never seen before encircled his neck and draped loosely over his chest. He moved with the discomfort of old age, but he held his head high and straight. Tarek waved the approaching men to the fire. A moment later the old man stood by the fire with the other men bracing his stance at each elbow. Everyone at the fire rose and stood silently. Ott looked out over the village. Everyone was standing, and the only sound was the crackling of the fires. It was obvious to Ott the old man was a venerated leader of the clan. Tarek looked to Ott, motioned to the old man, and announced his father, Erek.

  The old man gazed out over the village with steel-gray eyes clouded by old age. He had been told newcomers had arrived and asked to be helped to the fire. For as long as he had been leader of the clan, he had known everyone by sight and name. The newcomers would be no different. He wanted to see them and know them. His strength was eroded by age, but his mind was still clear. The old chief turned his gaze to Ott, nodded, and spoke his name.

  One by one Ott and the others nodded in return and spoke their names. Erek scrutinized each face with a firm stare, but when he looked to Ott, he cocked his head and squinted as though he were trying to recall something. With a furrowed brow and his eyes still locked on Ott’s face, the old man motioned for the men at his elbows to help him to his seat. Slowly he was lowered to where he would sit beside his son. Seated, the old man swept his right arm in the direction of the dwellings. A cacophony of whoops and stuttering cheers erupted from the clan, and the entire village was again alive with activity.

  Everyone at the fire skewered meat on pointed sticks and flint blades as the old patriarch continued to ponder Ott’s face as though searching for some lost recognition. Then, with widened eyes and raised eyebrows, he tugged at his son’s arm, beckoning him to bend closer. In a voice soft and trembling with old age, the old man spoke while staring at Ott. Tarek stopped chewing and listened intently until his father had finished and then motioned with both hands toward Ott. The old leader wanted something from Ott. He wanted to see something. Next, Erek extended his left arm straight out and with his right arm made the motion of pulling a bow. He wanted to see Ott’s bow. The request was simple enough. Ott rose and made his way back to the dwelling, where he retrieved the bow and moments later returned to the fire. He seated himself closer to the old man and extended the bow to him.

  With gnarled and trembling hands, Erek took the bow and examined it while everyone looked on, not knowing what to expect. The bow was masterfully crafted. Larger than most, the weapon was over five feet in length and shaped to a flawless contour. The satin-like finish was the result of numerous applications of tree resins, plant, oils, and beeswax. Every aspect of the bow showed the meticulous craftsmanship that only Ott could execute.

  The old patriarch ran his hands over the full length of the weapon, taking in every detail, then stopped at what interested him the most. He stroked his fingers over the three red orbs emblazoned on the front of the weapon, then shifted his gaze to Ott’s face. With a trembling hand, he reached up and softly touched Ott’s cheek. The connection was finally clear in his memory. Tilting his head toward one of the men who had helped him to the fire, he spoke in a near whisper. The man rose and retreated to the cave, disappeared through the entrance, and emerged a moment later carrying something wrapped in a hide and secured with straps. The man seated himself and placed the hide in the old man’s lap. In the orange glow of the fire, all eyes looked to Erek as he loosened the straps and pulled open the hide. Nestled inside rested a small bow half the size of a normal bow. It had obviously been made for a young boy. Although well worn, the craftsmanship was superb and obvious.

  Erek lifted the small bow from the hide and rotated it so Tarek, Ott, and the others could see the front of the small weapon. Faded with time but still clearly visible, the three red orbs were unmistakable. Erek pulled his son closer and spoke again. Tarek looked to the small bow and then over to Ott.

  “My father says when he was a boy living with a clan in a distant land, a man made this bow for him and taught him its ways.” Tarek gestured to the small bow. “He says the man who made this bow was called Ott. He says you are that man.”

  The old man tapped his son’s arm, leaned toward his ear, and spoke again. When he finished, Tarek studied the faces of the newcomers closely.

  “My father says elders of this clan and others who have passed to the spirits have spoken of you and others like you. They call you and those others the sun people because like the sun, they always return and always remain the same. He wants to know if you are the man called Ott who made this bow when he was a child, and if the others with you are also sun people?”

  The question hung in the silence. Then, Ott placed his hand on top of the old man’s and nodded in affirmation. He was Ott, and yes, he had made the bow. He and the others were the people of the sun. The old man placed his other hand on top of Ott’s and with misty eyes strained to speak loud enough for everyone at the fire to hear.

  “When I was a boy, you were like a father, and now, you are like a son. Stay what time you will with this clan.”

  Everyone stared at Ott and the others with a mixture of confusion and awe.

  39

  The day broke with a cloudless sky as Ott and Graf made their way to the cave to join Tarek and the hunting party. Ott was anxious to join the hunt for two reasons. First, the sooner they participated in clan activities, the sooner they would be accepted as contributing members. No skill was more admired than being a competent hunter. The second reason was a comment Tarek had made the night before. He had said they would see an animal they had probably never seen before. This animal was the reason the clan could stay in one location. Ott’s interest was piqued, and he was anxious to see what the hunt would reveal. As they approached the cave, both Ott and Graf were ready for whatever lay ahead. Their quivers were full and secured snugly across their backs with bows slung on top. They each carried a finely hewed spear tipped with a stout, sharp flint tip. In their pouches were cutting tools, flint knives, and extra sinew for bowstrings. They anticipated the hunt with a confidence borne of experience.

  Tarek watched as Ott and Graf approached. Sun people? Always the same? Everyone knew the stories, but these two looked like any other hunters, no more than capable men. It was probably just his father’s mind fading with old age. It was what they could do, not what they were called that mattered, and today he would find out what they could do.

  At the cave, Ott and Graf were met by Tarek and a small group of other hunters, all outfitted with stout bows, quivers, tool pouches, and what appeared to be a rolled section of hide secured at each end with pieces of rawhide. Tarek gave Ott and Graf identical rolled hides and said he would explain when they reached the hunting ground. As they set out, Ott noticed a large group of women, boys, and older men assembling nearby. They carried large tool pouches, and several hefted long saplings with hides attached between them. Tarek caught Ott’s attention and nodded toward the group. He informed Ott that the group would follow well behind until the hunt was finished. If the hunt was successful, they
would dress and prepare the carcasses for transport back to the village. Ott eyed them. Why would it take so many people?

  Tarek led the hunting party around the cave and toward a distant tree line. They moved ahead at a quick pace, and with the morning sun warming their backs, they entered the old forest of towering hardwoods. The forest floor was spongy and littered with low growth and decaying logs. The high canopy filtered the sunlight and lit the forest in a dappled softness. Soft, chest-high ferns sprouted everywhere, their tendrils glowing a muted phosphorescent green in the diffused light. Birds chirped intermittently as small animals and rodents scurried from the advancing hunting party. The air was heavy with the aroma of a dank, organic sweetness. Ever alert, the men kept watch and probed the leafy undergrowth as they wove their way along the wide, well-worn path.

  The party broke from the forest into bright sunlight and stood facing an open area that extended out and up to a low, rocky ridge. The tree line they emerged from curved at both ends and extended out to both ends of the ridge. Ott could not see beyond the ridge, but his instincts and the pungent animal smell that carried on the light breeze told him their hunting ground lay on the other side. With Tarek in the lead, the men made their way to the bottom of the ridge, where they spread out with about an arm’s length between them. Tarek and his men removed their bows and quivers and placed them on the ground along with their pouches and spears. Ott and Graf did the same. Tarek looked to Ott and Graf and placed one hand over his mouth. He pointed to his eyes with the other and then toward the top of the ridge. They were to remain silent while they made their way to the top for a look. Tarek dropped to his hands and knees, and then extended himself flat to the ground. Ott, Graf, and the others assumed the same position, and at Tarek’s signal, the line of hunters inched their way forward.

  Just below the top of the ridge, Tarek stopped and pumped his palms back toward the men. They would remain still while he took a first look. He hunched his head into his shoulders and squirmed up, raising his forehead above the ridge. His eyes darted from side to side. He twisted his head toward the men to his left and poked his chin forward. He repeated the gesture toward Ott and Graf, and everyone shimmied up and peered over the ridge.

  Soft, low hills covered in knee-high grass extended to the far horizon. On that vast, sun-washed vista grazed a herd of the biggest bison Ott and Graf had ever seen. They ambled about in every direction, huge, dark-brown beasts with tufted, woolly hair covering massive necks and heads that sported thick, curved horns easily twice the length of a man’s arm. They grazed alone and in groups of five or more. Cows, calves, and the huge, humpbacked males dotted the rolling hills. Ott and Graf had hunted bison before, but none as large as these, and never in the open grassland. Ott’s only success in taking a bison was on the rare occasion when he had come upon a single animal that had wandered into the woodland. In the forest, it was possible to stalk a bison from cover or ambush it from a tree, but in the open it was impossible. When approached, the animal would just graze away out of bow-and-spear range, or charge. They were too wary and far too dangerous in the open, where they could easily outrun and crush approaching hunters. These animals were easily twice the size of any he had ever encountered. Ott watched as a shaggy-headed male passed close below. Standing beside the beast, he would not be able to see over the hump. How was it possible to hunt such a huge and dangerous animal? What did Tarek know? Today he was sure he would find the answers.

  Tarek motioned everyone back down, and the men shimmied to the bottom, where they gathered their gear and followed Tarek several yards back into the tree line. They clustered together, and Tarek motioned toward his three men. The men secured their bows and quivers across their backs, looped their pouches over their shoulders, and with rolled hides in one hand and a spear in the other, walked toward the far end of the ridgeline. They had made this hunt many times. They would hunt the far end of the herd while Tarek, Ott, and Graf would hunt here. This would reduce the chances of exciting the animals and causing a stampede. The remaining three men would not participate directly in the hunt, but watch from the top of the ridge in case something went wrong and help was needed.

  As the watchers left, Tarek untied his rolled hide and laid it flat on the ground. The hide had been cut to a precise size and shape with the thick hair left intact. The shape of the hide was rectangular but slightly elliptical, with what resembled a hood at the top. Several rawhide strips were attached along both sides. Lifting the hide, Tarek stood and tossed it over his shoulders. He next secured the hide to his body with the attached rawhide strips tied at his hips and across the chest. He flipped the hood piece up and secured it under his chin with two smaller strips that hung at each side. It dropped to just above his eyes. The camouflage covered him almost completely with the exception of his arms so he could handle his bow and spear unencumbered. Tarek could tell from the look on their faces that Ott and Graf were beginning to understand.

  They proceeded to secure their own coverings as Tarek explained what they would do and what they must not do. With their coverings in place, they would make their way down the far side of the ridge on hands and knees, carrying their bows and four arrows in one hand and their spears in the other. They were to spread out and move at a slow but steady pace toward the closest animal grazing alone. When they got within bow range, they were to stop and remain still until the animal was broadside or, better yet, quartering away. Arrow placement was the most crucial part of bringing the beast down as quickly as possible. They were to shoot for either the flank area just behind the rib cage or the lower-neck area in front of the upper legs. The flank shot, if accurate and powerful enough, would drive the point into the organs. The neck shot was intended to rupture the huge neck artery so the animal would drop in short time to blood loss. The shot was difficult at best, but highly effective because even if the artery was missed, the neck area bled quickly. Hitting the animal anywhere else was useless. Its muscles were heavy and thick, and even if the animal eventually dropped from blood loss, it would take a long time. By then, the beast would instinctively have traveled back into the herd, where it would be impossible to get at. You did not get into the herd. They were just too huge and could kill a hunter by merely stepping on him.

  Tarek continued as Ott and Graf unrolled the hide coverings and secured them over their bodies. Once the animal was hit, they were to drop back to their hands and knees and remain perfectly still. The animal would be hurt, but with nothing in sight, it would usually just mill about until it dropped. When it was down, the closest of the men would crawl to it and drive his spear into a space between the forward ribs to pierce the heart.

  When Tarek finished, Ott and Graf adjusted their hide coverings and checked their gear. All Tarek had said of arrow placement they knew from more hunts than they could remember, but the hide-covered stalk was new. It made sense to them. The animals had poor eyesight, but an acute sense of smell. Camouflaged by the hides, they would be ignored and perceived as nothing more than smaller animals. They could only be detected by scent, and that was masked by the bison dung that had been spread over and worked into the hide coverings. Ott cast a glance toward Tarek. The man was clever and obviously a capable hunter.

  Tarek motioned Ott and Graf closer and retrieved a gourd container from his pouch. He pulled off the top and scooped out a handful of pasty, gray-black material. It was a mixture of moist ash and mud. He worked the paste between his palms for a moment and then smeared it over his face before passing the gourd to Ott and Graf. They applied it to their faces, and the camouflage was complete. They were ready. At Tarek’s signal, they made their way back up the ridgeline, where they peered over and scanned the long grass.

  The huge beasts grazed in small groups, pulling at clumps of grass and then grinding it into cud. The hunters surveyed the area closest to the bottom of the ridge and in a moment sighted what they were looking for. To their right, about fifty yards into the grass, a huge male bison stood alone. The beast was in i
ts prime with thick, pointed horns that curved out to a length of six feet. Ott estimated that the huge hump was a head higher than a standing man. A mottled, dark-brown hide covered the animal, and shaggy strips of coarse black hair hung from its massive head and shoulders. Powerful shoulder and haunch muscles rippled with each slow step. As the animal grazed, Ott took note of the thick, tapering tail that ended with a wooly black tuft of hair. He remembered what Tarek had said about the tail. If the animal detected them and was going to charge, the tail would flick up above the haunches. If the animal charged, the only escape was up a tree.

  Ott scanned the entire area around the bull bison. There were no trees to be seen.

  40

  Clutching his bow and four arrows in one hand and his spear in the other, Tarek crept down the slope on knuckles and knees. Ott and Graf followed close behind. They inched their way into the long grass and made for the grazing bison bull. The day had grown warm, and the air was still and heavy with the musky odor of the grazing beasts. Sweat trickled down Ott’s face and dripped from his nose. The men spread out and kept moving toward the massive, dark beast that loomed above the long grass. Graf kept pace with Ott and Tarek, but sweat was blurring his vision and he felt constrained in the hide. As the men closed to shooting range, the animal showed no signs of being disturbed. Then, as Tarek reached for his bowstring, the big bull raised its head and shook its body like a dog emerging from water. As it shook, it let out a low bellow and began angling away. It was irritated by the hundreds of flies that buzzed about its eyes and flanks. The men remained still until the beast once again became stationary and resumed grazing. Hot and dripping sweat, the men continued the slow stalk. The bull stood grinding its lower jaw as the men once again moved within range. Satisfied with their positioning, Ott and Graf leaned on their elbows and nocked arrows.