Rise of Man Book 1: Ascendance

by E. Wayne Stucki

  Chapter 3

  Karg paused to catch his breath and leaned against a nearby boulder. As he watched his sons gathering around showing no signs of discomfort from the climb the old man gave a weak chuckle. He really was getting too old for this. Looking back down the way they’d come he guessed they were two-thirds of the way up the mountain. There was a time he’d’ve climbed this slope without resting or slowing down. But now… A smile crossed his lips. He’d have to tell his sons not to get old.

  Still examining the mountainside below him could see a few patches of snow in the shade of trees and rocks. The snow had come last night with the first cold storm of the season. It wasn’t cold enough for the snow to remain long and most had already melted off. But the storm meant winter was coming.

  Ignoring the small talk and jokes of his sons Karg looked at what lay before him. The mountains his family was in gave way to smaller hills and the jungles of the lowlands were beyond that. In years past by this time the Clan would have been moving to those foot hills and lower jungles for the winter. It was warmer there and food plentiful. The old man shook his head. Food was easy to find in the warm jungles - yes. And that wasn’t the only thing plentiful. It seemed predators were under every bush and rock.

  The Clan had grown fewer in number during the last three winters. New births were less that what the lowland predators took. And some of the births had to be left out in the night to die when it became apparent the child couldn’t survive on its own. The Elders hoped that by remaining in the mountains and away from the lowland forests they could rebuild their numbers. Kok learning to work stone had been a big part of that decision. Karg’s chest expanded with pride. As he’d worked rocks Kok had also learned how to create fire. This time the cold, snow and hunger would not drive them away to death.

  Using a walking stick for support Karg turned to continue up the steep slope. His sons followed moving through the bushes, trees and boulders with sinuous ease while keeping a careful watch for any danger. If the younger men were frustrated at the slow pace set by their father they didn’t let it show. The wound Karg received in the Tusker fight two summers earlier had never healed properly and left him with a limp. They could tell it made traveling painful and difficult for their father.

  The family reached a spot of bare rock not far from the saddle between two mountain peaks when a blast of cold wind hit them. Karg paused long enough to adjust his hides to keep the cold out. That was another problem of old age - he was always cold. Grunting with satisfaction he continued climbing. The tedium of the hike allowed his thoughts to wander.

  He smiled as the memory of what happened when he and Kok returned to Home Cave after fighting the Tuskers came to mind. After Kok had dumped the bodies of seven Tuskers in the middle of Home Cave’s main chamber Karg related the tale of how the animals had been killed and gutted. It took most of the night of telling and retelling to convince the Clan that Kok had done the killing. The next day, ignoring the snide comments of the doubtful, Karg had Kok teaching his other sons the secret of making stones sharp and of putting the stone club together. Soon his sons were bringing in the large furred animals that roamed the mountains and food was more plentiful.

  Last summer another of his sons, Jakto, had used a stone Kok had worked but rejected to cut the hide from an animal. He found a way to cure the hide to prevent quick decomposition. Now the Clan had more food to eat and better hides for warmth and protection.

  The smile left his lips as he continued upward. At first the Clan had been upset over the appearance of his children at birth. The Elders had wanted the babes killed but Karg had stood in front of his family and prevented anything from happening. “My sons are whole,” he’d argued, “they have two arms and legs and can support themselves.” But the Elders hadn’t been convinced and persisted in their efforts to have the children killed. It wasn’t until Karg had threatened to take his wives and children away from the Clan that the Elders relented. Karg’s smile reappeared. The exploits of his sons through the years had vindicated his defiance.

  Karg led his sons between two large boulders and up over the saddle onto the other side. They moved down the slope, slipping through gaps in clumps of bushes and rocks, weaving back and forth. Eventually he joined a path created by animals and followed it into a thicket of aspen trees. Moments later, the trees ended and Karg stopped. Kok and his brothers stepped to their father’s side to see where Karg had brought them.

  Spread out below the men was an alcove bordered on three sides by aspens and bushy cedar trees. A grassy meadow covered the ground from the trees to a large boulder near the cliff edge. At the end closest to the mountains was an area where water seeped to the surface turning the ground to mud. On the side not covered by trees was a view of the fabled Valley of Suns Karg had told his sons about.

  Karg’s sons moved out of the trees and walked through the long grass to reach the large boulder at the end of the alcove. There was no slope leading down into the valley from where they stood. A sheer cliff dropped straight down to the valley floor with a jumble of boulders at the bottom. The men stood on the edge of the drop off to examine the valley.

  “Hey!” called Karg as he made his way across the meadow, “I’m cold! You can stare at the valley all you want when camp’s set up.”

  “Cold,” chuckled Kok as the brothers turned away from the view. “This must be what getting old’s like.”

  “Less talking and more work,” added Karg as he collapsed onto the grass next to the boulder.

  Everyone laughed and set about their tasks. Jakto and Kaf moved to a spot on the edge of the meadow sheltered from the slight breeze by the trees and cleared away any branches, sticks and dried grass. Kok made a small pile of dried bark, grass and small twigs in the center of the space then reached into a leather pouch for two small rocks. He knelt down and began striking the two stones together. On the third strike a spark flew from the rocks onto the bark. Setting aside the rocks Kok knelt and gently blew on the glowing ember. Moments later a flame appeared and sticks were placed on the tinder to build the blaze. Kekko appeared out of the trees with an armload of dry wood which was added to the fire until it was large enough to ease the chill in the air. Smoke spiraled up until it disappeared above the tops of the trees where it was carried away by the wind. A pleasant aroma began to fill the alcove.

  Karg enjoyed watching his sons set up camp. Old age and his injured leg had prevented him from making long journeys or going out on many hunting parties this past summer. In fact, if his wives had their way he’d be back in the Clan’s cave right now. But their protests had been ignored. His sons had to see the Valley of Suns and he had to be the one to show them. No one else knew the way.

  After his bones had warmed the old man used his walking stick to climb back to his feet and struggled over to the cliff edge. Once there he looked down into the valley. The once beautiful valley was rough and jagged; scorched and burned, for nothing grew there any more. He looked upon a blackened, barren desert fed by streams of ash and soot. Waterfalls still sent spray into the air creating rainbows which were the only beauty left. Glancing up at the surrounding mountains he saw that even the trees and bushes on those slopes looked sickly.

  Turning back to the valley a movement in the distance caught his attention and he stared. Towards the far end of the valley, there was something he’d never seen before and it appeared to be moving. “Kaf!” he called. “Come here. You’ve the best sight in the family. Come tell me what your young eyes see.”

  His youngest son left what he was doing by the fire and walked over to stand beside Karg. The rest of the family followed. “Where is it?” Kaf asked.

  Karg didn’t reply but pointed out the strange objects.

  Kaf stared into the valley for several minutes without moving or saying anything. The others leaned forward, careful not to fall over the cliff, peering at the objects while waiting for the young man to speak.

  After a long wait Kaf finally spoke. “I see thin
gs like the small predators from the jungle. They’re moving things and doing something to the ground. There appears to be a hole in the ground and they’re putting something over it.” He paused for a moment then continued. “They’re getting into… it looks like small caves on the ground and…” He stopped and leaned forward like his brothers as if being a little closer would provide a better understanding of what he was seeing.

  Karg and his other sons looked at Kaf then back into the valley still trying to peer into the distance to see what surprised their brother. They could see shapes moving but not much detail. “The caves are moving!” Kaf’s eyes widened and Karg looked at him in surprise. “One is moving up! Into the sky! It’s coming towards us like a bird!”

  Karg looked back into the valley in time to see something rise off the ground then yelled one word. “Hide!”

  His sons looked at him in surprise for a moment before their discipline took over. Karg was one of the oldest in the Clan because he knew when to fight and when to hide. The order was not repeated and everyone dashed to pick up their belongings and find suitable hiding places. Moments later only the smoldering fire and tracks in the thin layer of snow in the shade of trees was evidence that anyone or anything had ever been there.

  Then a roar like the rushing of many waters could be heard and grew louder. Karg huddled near the trunk of a bushy tree and shivered when he remembered where and when he’d first heard that sound. It’d been years ago and then he’d thought it was a living creature. But Kaf had called it a cave. Could that mean those animals he had seen inside the bird had made the cave? Were they gods who could make the sun-on-the-ground and things that flew like birds?

  Soon the strange bird - or cave, as Kaf had called it - was over their alcove and drove all thought away. Its noise deafened those on the ground while the wind it made whipped the branches of the trees and shrubs. Small particles of snow mingled with dust, leaves, sparks and ash from their fire whirled around getting into the eyes and hides of the hiding men. Although Karg had been the only one to endure this before, his sons remained in hiding.

  The thing moved back and forth for a moment and then stopped over one bushy tree where two of Karg’s sons were hidden. Karg thought he heard the sound of a thunderclap but he couldn’t be sure. The noise made by the bird was too loud. It stayed over the tree for a moment longer as if expecting something to happen. When nothing did the bird left and headed over the mountains, away from the valley.

  The roar had just faded when a cry came, “Jakto is hurt!”

  “Wait!” came Karg’s curt order. There was no response and no movement.

  Although one of his sons was hurt Karg forced himself to patience. He had to make sure it was safe or more of his sons would be in danger. Finally when the sun had moved a little towards the west from the day’s middle and the sound from the strange bird hadn’t been heard for sometime he stirred. “It’s safe now!” he called. “Help Jakto!”

  The family erupted from under the various trees and bushes where they’d hidden and scurried over to where Jakto and Kok were emerging. Karg watched as Kok helped Jakto over to the still smoldering fire. Other sons gathered small sticks that had been scattered by the wind and added them to the fire to rebuild the blaze and keep their injured brother warm. Jakto lay down and Kok exposed the injury.

  Blood could be seen coming from two spots in Jakto’s right upper thigh as Kekko, the best healer of the Clan, examined the wounds. “Eat these berries, it’ll stop the pain,” he ordered and pulled the dried fruit from a leather pouch. Jakto took the berries as ordered, popped them into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. The effect was almost instantaneous and Jakto relaxed. When he was satisfied the pain had eased enough Kekko went back to work.

  Seeing the wound and the reaction of his son to the berries Karg realized how much pain Jakto was in. Yet the man hadn’t cried out or given the family away when he’d been hurt. Karg’s heart swelled with pride. He smiled down at his injured son then at the others who were looking on. “God has made my sons are the smartest in the Clan!” he announced.

  Kekko smiled. “Smart, yes. But it didn’t take being smart to get stabbed by a sharp stick.”

  “It wasn’t a stick,” objected Kok.

  Kekko made sure the leg was clean then took more items from his pouch and began to dress the wound. “If it wasn’t a stick how’d he get hurt?” he asked without looking up from his work.

  “Father’s bird was over us and made a thunder,” replied Kok. “Jakto grabbed his leg and started bleeding. It wasn’t a stick! Besides sticks stick in. They don’t go all the way through!”

  Kekko nodded at the explanation, finished his work then looked at his family gathered around. “We’ve all heard father’s stories and wondered how true they were. Now we know. That strange bird is very dangerous.” He looked at Karg. “You recognized the danger years ago. You’re as smart as we are.”

  Karg wasn’t so sure. The first time he’d come across one of those things he’d thought it was a new animal; just another danger. Now, with Kaf’s help, he’d just learned it wasn’t an animal but a made-thing like the rock clubs, spears and knifes. The cave-in-the-air was dangerous as were the small jungle eaters that seemed to control it.

  “I don’t want Jakto walking,” announced Kekko when he stood after tying off a piece of leather to hold the medicinal plants in place over the wound. “The leg will heal faster if it isn’t used and I don’t want the injury to get infected. We’ll have to carry him back to the Clan.”

  “I knew he’d find some way to get out of work,” said Kaf and gave his older brother a playful jab in the shoulder.

  Kok organized the construction of a carrier. Two strong limbs were cut from a tree and stripped of smaller branches. Hides were tied to the limbs making a bed for the injured man to lie on while they traveled.

  As they were lashing the hides to the limbs a blinding flash lit the valley. “No one look!” cried Karg shielding his eyes. There was no need for the warning. His sons had been busy helping Jakto and weren’t looking into the valley. Everyone covered their faces and closed their eyes.

  Heartbeats later, when they sensed the bright light was gone, the family opened their eyes and turned around to see the expected ball of yellow fire and black smoke begin to roll into the sky. A rumbling, louder and deeper than thunder, was felt through their feet and in their chests.

  The sight awed Karg’s sons as they watched the dirty, black ball roll ever higher. They hadn’t believed their father when he described the small sun to them. He was making the story bigger they said. Now they knew better.

  “Hold on!” yelled Karg and grabbed onto a large rock. “The wind comes next.”

  Karg’s sons reacted. Some took refuge behind rocks, others held onto trees. Kekko grabbed a nearby tree and leaned over to protect Jakto.

  The roaring became almost earsplitting, much louder than the bird, and then a blast of hot air struck. It whipped up small rocks and dirt as it rushed out of the valley. Branches thrashed about and some were stripped from their trunks. An instant later the wind rushed back from where it came. The sudden reversal caught Kok unprepared and he lost his grip on the tree he was using as anchor. The wind blew him out from under the tree and along the ground towards the cliff edge. He bounced off a boulder, scraping a shoulder, and slammed into another tree. His hands wrapped around a thick limb and held on until the wind stopped.

  Kekko raised his head and shook the hair from his eyes. “That was fun,” he commented then looked around at his brothers. “Is anyone hurt?”

  After getting off the ground Kok replied, “I’m scratched and bruised but otherwise all right.” The other brothers echoed their elder brother.

  Karg turned away from the valley to look up at the surrounding mountains and gauged the suns position. “It’s time to go,” he announced. “We were only going to stay until you could see a sun-on-the-ground. And we need to get Jakto home. The hot, brown snow’ll be falling soon.” He
gave Kekko a reassuring touch then stepped over to the cliff edge to peer into the valley. Kok and Kaf went to gather the family’s belongings for the long walk home. The small fire was smothered and their weapons and food gathered.

  A short time later the family left the sheltered cove. Kok and Kaf were dragging the carrier that Jakto was on while Kekko kept fussing over the wounded man’s coverings. Before he turned to begin the painful walk home Karg took another look at the valley and the cloud. It would be his last because he planned no more return trips.

  The black cloud was right where it’d always been when he left. His family would be in the next valley over when the hot snow arrived. Then his sons would know the power of the valley that was theirs.

  Kok’s cry brought him back to see that his sons had gone ahead and were already entering the aspens. With the strange bird known to be in the area it wasn’t wise to be alone. Using his stick he hurried to join his sons.