West of Eden e-1

by Harry Harrison

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “How ugly these creatures are,” Vaintè said. “If anything this one is uglier than most.”

  She put out one foot and turned the severed head over with her claws. There was dust now on the face and hair, caked into the dried blood of the neck.

  “Different as well,” Stallan said, poking the head with her hèsotsan. “See how dark the fur is. This is a new type of ustuzou. All of the others had white skins and white fur. This one is dark. But these creatures also had sticks with sharp stones attached to them, wore scraps of dirty fur about their bodies.”

  “Ustuzou,” Vaintè said firmly. “In need of killing.”

  She dismissed Stallan with a movement of her arm and looked about at the organized bustle of the fargi. The sun was still well above the horizon, as it always was now when they stopped for the night, for there were many preparations to be made. While the uruktop were being unloaded and fed, other fargi were spreading the sensitive vines out in circles around the camping place. Nothing could approach now in the dark without being detected. The light-creatures had been bred to be much brighter now, and were slightly sentient so that they pointed at the area that had been disturbed, washing it with eye-burning light. Of greater interest were the bundles of melikkasei that the fargi were carefully unrolling beyond the vines. A new development, plants that were photosensitive and harmless to handle during the daylight hours. But after dark poisonous thorns sprang up from their recesses, the death in their sharp tips ready for any creature that might touch them during the night. They retracted only when the sky was bright again.

  A squat Yilanè slowly approached Vaintè. Okotsei, slow and ugly with age — but possessing a brain second to none. It was Okotsei who had developed the creatures that could see and record images by starlight. She had been improving the process ever since, so that now she had her flying beasts in the air night and day — and the pictures they brought back were available almost as soon as they had returned. Okotsei extended a handful of flat sheets as soon as she had caught Vaintè’s attention.

  “What is this?” Vaintè asked.

  “What you requested, Eistaa. These were taken soon after dawn this morning.”

  Vaintè took the pictures and looked through them carefully. There was no change. Long shadows stretched from the skin cones by the river, reaching out as well from the mastodons in the field nearby. No change. The fears that had possessed her three days ago when the camping place had been discovered empty had proven groundless. The brutes had not fled but had just moved from one site to another. They were not alarmed; the presence of her striking force was still undetected.

  “Show me this same place on the larger picture,” she said.

  The birds flew by night and by day, close to the ground and high in the sky. There was no escape for the ustuzou now. This new picture, taken by a high-soaring raptor, revealed vast stretches of river, the river valley as well, and large parts of the surrounding countryside. Okotsei tapped it with her thumb.

  “This is the place where we slept last night. Now this is the ustuzou lair that was destroyed, where that head in the dirt came from.” Her thumb moved. “We are at this place now. The ustuzou you are searching for are here, by the river.”

  “They are the ones I seek, you are certain of that?”

  “I am certain only that they are the only group on this side of the snow-mountains that have mastodons with them. There are other ustuzou packs here, here and here. A larger group is in this valley by the river. Further to the north, beyond this picture, there are more of the creatures. But nowhere, except in this one place, are there any mastodons. On the eastern side of the mountains, yes, there are many groups like this. On this side — just the one.”

  “Good. Take these to Stallan so she may plan the attack in the morning.”

  The fargi whose duty it was brought Vaintè the evening meat and she was scarcely aware when she seized it and ate it, so great was her concentration on her plans. Her thoughts were all on the multifaceted labors that had brought her and the armed fargi to this place at this time. Once again she went through all the parts to be sure that none were missing, no work incomplete, no detail forgotten. All was as it should be. They would attack in the morning. Before the sun had set Kerrick would be dead — or in her hands. Better in her hands, her thumbs opened and closed with the thought, far better in her hands.

  She tried to be unemotional about it, logical, but she was finished with logic now and hatred was seething through her. How many pictures had she looked at? There was no counting. One group of ustuzou looked like any other, the creatures themselves were hard to tell apart. Yet she was sure that the one she sought was in none of the earlier pictures of the packs to the east of the mountains. Only when she had looked at the picture that revealed the mastodons, the only mastodons west of the mountains, had she had the feeling that she had found him at last. Tomorrow she would know for certain.

  With the coming of darkness she slept — as did all the Yilanè. Protected by their carefully laid defenses. There were no alarms that night and their sleep was not disturbed. At first light the fafgi stirred and preparations for the day’s march, the day’s battle, began. There was little warmth in the sun yet and Vaintè kept the large sleeping cloak wrapped about her when Stallan joined her as she watched the loading. Everything moved smoothly with true Yilanè organization, groups and group leaders moving efficiently about their appointed tasks. Water, meat, and the other supplies were loaded on the specially bred large-size uruktop. The pleasure of the operation was spoiled for Vaintè when she became aware of Peleinè signaling for attention.

  “Vaintè, I would speak with you.”

  “This evening, when this day’s work is done. I am busy now.”

  “This evening may be too late for the work you desire may not be done.”

  Vaintè did not move or speak, but one eye looked Peleinè up and down with cold scrutiny, although Peleinè was too distraught to be aware of her displeasure.

  “I wish it were otherwise, but there is much talk among the Daughters and many are worried. They begin to feel that a mistake has been made.”

  “A mistake? You assured me that you were no longer to be called the Daughters of Death but were now the Daughters of Life in everything. True citizens of Alpèasak, with your errors put behind you, ready to help and aid in all matters. Therefore I saw to it that all rights and honors were restored to those that followed you, raised you up to serve by my side. It is too late now to talk of mistakes.”

  “Hear me out, mighty Vaintè.’ Peleinè wound her thumbs together in unconscious misery, her palms showing distressed colors to match. “Speaking of matters and making decisions is one thing. Carrying them out is another. We came with you of our free will, came across the sea, the land and the rivers with you since we agreed that what you are doing is correct. Agreed that the ustuzou are predatory animals that must be slaughtered just as meat animals are slaughtered.”

  “This you agreed.”

  “This we agreed before we saw the animals. Two of the Daughters were with the party that found the ustuzou pack yesterday.”

  “I know of this. It was I who sent them.” To blood them, she thought, that was what Stallan said. Blood them. Stallan always did this with fargi who sought to become hunters. There were many who could not easily kill for they had been too long in the cities, too long from the sea, too far from their origins to kill quickly and efficiently. A killer does not think; a killer reacts. These Daughters of Death thought too much, thought all of the time and did very little else. Blooding them would help.

  Peleinè was having difficulty in speaking. Vaintè waited with barely controlled patience.

  “They should not have gone,” Peleinè finally said, her meaning muffled by unnecessary movements of her limbs.

  “You presume to question my commands?” Vaintè’s crest was erect, quivering with rage.

  “They are dead, Vaintè. Both dead.”


  “They cannot be. The resistance was slight, none were injured.”

  “These two returned. They spoke of the ustuzou camp and said that it was not unlike a small city, the ustuzou had many strange artifacts as well, and they cried out in pain as they died. Both of them had used their hèsotsan and they had killed. When they spoke aloud of this someone said that they were Daughters of Death now, not Daughters of Life, and they agreed that they were givers of death. So they died. Died just as though the Eistaa had taken their names away and ordered them from the city. That is how they died. Now that we know this, we know that we were wrong in our beliefs. Killing ustuzou brings death not life. We can no longer aid you, Vaintè. We cannot kill for you.”

  Peleinè stopped her nervous movements when she said this for her speaking was done now, what she had to say had been said. The decision had been made. No, not made, had been forced upon them. What would happen next was up to Vaintè to decide.

  Vaintè was as unmoving in thought as Peleinè was in anticipation. They faced each other in immobility, eyes staring, feet splayed. Silent.

  This was rebellion, Vaintè thought, and it must be stopped at once. But with the thought came the realization that it could not be stopped, that these rebellious creatures would surely refuse to take up weapons in the future. Death was now her enemy. These misguided females had seen two of their number die and believed it would happen to them. Well, they were correct. Death would come to them with certainty now. They would not fight but they still could die. There was no room for noncombatants in this war. They would be taken care of.

  “You are dismissed,” she said. “Go to your Daughters of Death and tell them that they have shamed their city. Their hèsotsan will be taken from them. They will work — but they will not be required to kill.”

  Peleinè signed grateful acknowledgment as she turned and hurried away. She should have remained to listen for Vaintè had not finished her speaking.

  “Not required to kill. But they will be required to die.” She called her tarakast to her, made the fargi leading it bend over so she could mount the creature by standing on her shoulders. Turned it and ordered it to run, to pass the fargi and the uruktop to the head of the advancing column where she would lead the march.

  Armed Yilanè on fast tarakast spread out ahead of the army, while others rode to each side and guarded the flanks. Stallan had studied the pictures closely as always and she pointed the way. It was an easy ride to the planned halting place by the river and Vaintè signaled the stop just as one of the scouts came hurrying back.

  “Gone,” the scout said simply, large group and ustuzou in the meaning.

  “They will have moved their stopping place again,” Vaintè said, hope-of-this in her movements.

  “This may be,” the scout said. “I followed the track as it returned to the stopping place where they stayed before. The track went on along the river and into the river valley and that is when I returned to tell you.”

  “They did not turn away or double back or escape in any other way?” Stallan asked, rigid attention in the forward angle of her body.

  “Impossible. I followed until the rock walls rose high and there was but one way to go.”

  “Trapped!” Stallan said with exultation, pulling her beast close to Vaintè’s in order to pass over a picture to her. “See this, sarn’enoto, see the trap they have entered. The river valley is wide but the walls are high with this single entrance along the river. The river exits here over rocks and through rapids. There is no way out there.”

  Sarn’enoto, an ancient title from the half-forgotten past, now revived. A leader in armed conflict — whom all obeyed. Now she must think like such a leader. She held up the picture and touched it with her thumb. “Here, on this side, you yourself showed me a way down into the valley.”

  “A way that can be blocked. A force can be bent there to seal the exit, the main force can remain here to attack.”

  “It shall be done that way. Issue the orders. In these other pictures I see more ustuzou in the valley.”

  “More ustuzou to die in the valley,” was Stallan’s ready answer as she raked her sharp claws into her tarakast so that it reared and hissed with pain. She controlled it easily, turned it and thundered off.

  The sun was just past the zenith when Okotsei handed Vaintè the latest pictures, still warm and damp. She looked at them closely, then passed them on one by one to Stallan who stood at her side.

  “Everything is now ready,” Stallan said when she had looked at the last one. “There is no escape.” Her thumbs snapped shut and the pictures crumpled and broke. “The cliff path is guarded and sealed. We await your orders, sarn’enoto.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “A swift attack along the river,” Vaintè said. “First a sudden sweep over the rock barrier killing any of the ustuzou that might be concealed there. Then on into the valley. Order the fargi forward, but do not lead them yourself. There is a possibility that the ustuzou are aware of our movements. If they are, then the first attackers will die. Begin.”

  The massed fargi advanced along the river bank. They became so crowded forcing themselves through the narrow gap that some of them were wading in the water. Vaintè watched them leave, then settled back on her tail and waited with unmoving patience for the outcome. Behind her the rest of the fargi dismounted and began to unload the supplies. They had scarcely finished before Stallan came wearily out of the valley and walked slowly up to the silent Vaintè.

  “Lying in concealment,” Stallan said. “We fired but there was no way to tell if we had hit any of them. The first attackers died as you said they might. We retrieved the hèsotsan of the dead, as many as we could, before we drew back from the engagement. I prepared a defensive line out of range of their weapons and came here at once.”

  Vaintè did not appear to be surprised by this unwelcome report.

  “They knew that we were coming. That is why they went to the valley. Now I will see for myself.”

  Stallan pushed her way through the milling fargi, ordering them to move aside for their sarn’enoto. Beyond them the river swung around the rock face and it was here that Stallan had placed the defending position. Fargi crouched behind rocks, weapons ready, while others dug protective trenches in the soft sand. Stallan raised her hèsotsan and pointed it at the bend.

  “It is now time for caution. I will go first.”

  They advanced slowly, then stopped. Stallan waved Vaintè forward to join her. “You can see the barrier from here.”

  Vaintè moved carefully forward and the first of the bodies came into view. There were many more of them sprawled at the base of the tumbled rocks, while a few had climbed up a few paces before they fell. The river swung around the barrier, burbling swiftly through the narrow passage. There were other fargi corpses there as well, some lying half in and half out of the water. On the summit of the barrier there were quick movements. The enemy lay in wait. Vaintè looked up at the sun, still high in the sky, before she moved back.

  “We will attack again. If I remember correctly the hèsotsan can survive under water.”

  “They can survive. Their nostril flaps close when they are submerged.”

  “I thought so. Here is what we will do. An attack on the barrier will be launched. I do not want it to stop when a few fargi are killed.”

  “It will not be easy. It will be certain death for many.”

  “Nothing is easy, Stallan, or we would all be eistaa without fargi to serve us. You know that the Daughters of Death will not fight?”

  “I have taken their weapons from them.”

  “Good. But they can still serve in their own way. They will lead the attack on the barrier.”

  As the meaning sank in Stallan’s lips pulled slowly back to display rows of sharp teeth, exposed to show the sharpness of the decision as well as her great appreciation of it.

  “You are first and wisest in everything, great Vaintè. Their bodies will draw many of the darts of death so the
armed fargi can get through. You are the only one who could have found a way to exact such a great service from these burdensome creatures. It will be done just as you have ordered. The ustuzou and the Daughters of Death will die together. What fitting companions they are for this fate!”

  “There is more to the attack than that. We might overwhelm them in that manner but the losses would be heavy. While this attack is being pressed forward I want armed fargi in the water, swimming through that gap. They will strike the defenders from behind, kill them, distract them. Then we will sweep over the barrier and destroy the rest.”

  The flies were already swarming over the tumbled bodies on the rocks below. Nothing moved other than the flies, their buzzing loud in the silence. Kerrick took a handful of darts and began to push them, one by one, into the hèsotsan.

  “They have run away,” Sanone said, cautiously raising his head to look.

  “The fight hasn’t started yet,” Kerrick said. “They were just probing to test our strength. They’ll be back.” He turned to look at Sanone and froze. “Don’t move! Stay where you are.”

  He reached out a steady hand and plucked the dart from Sanone’s headscarf. “If this had gone through you would be dead.”

  Sanone looked down calmly at the deadly bit of thorn and leaf. “Our cloth has values I never thought of. It will not stop a spear — but is proof against this inurgu poison. Perhaps we should wrap ourselves thickly and survive in that manner.”