Stone Age Rampage

by Chris Blake

  “Where?” asked Tom.

  “Our village is on the other side of that ridge,” Gam replied. “Orm has brought all of his warriors to attack it. They will take our food and burn our huts to the ground. We have to warn my tribe.”

  “But how?” said Tom. “They’re miles ahead of us!”

  “We go by river,” said Gam.

  “You want us to swim?” said Zuma, her eyes wide. “You must be joking!”

  Tom had to agree. The river was bursting with icy, melted snow, and thundering down through the rocks. They wouldn’t last a minute in the freezing water.

  “Swim?” Arn laughed. “No. We have a better idea.”

  He and Gam moved over to some large stones beside the river’s edge. As Tom looked closer he saw that someone had placed a woven grass mat over a gap between the stones, covering something beneath. His eyes widened as Gam and Arn dragged out a wooden canoe from between the rocks. Then the hunters dragged out a second canoe.

  “We store these here to use when the water is calmer,” Arn explained. “Usually we wouldn’t use them when the river is flowing this fast, but we have no choice. We have to warn our tribe before Orm attacks them!”

  As they positioned the canoes on the edge of the bank, Tom looked out over the raging water, trying not to look nervous. One mistake in the canoe, and they would be carried away on the current and smashed into the jagged rocks poking out of the water.

  Still, there was no time to be scared. Gam had saved Tom and Zuma from the cave lion. Now it was up to them to help him warn his tribe.

  He took a deep breath and stepped into the first canoe, taking a seat at the front of the craft. Behind him Gam rolled up the woven grass mat and placed it in the bottom of the second canoe.

  “Zuma, you will come in this canoe with me,” he told her. “Blood-Son Arn will travel with Tom. We know the river. You will be safe with us.”

  But before Arn could get in Tom’s canoe, a wave of freezing spray came up from the river, drenching the bank. Chilli howled and sprang backwards, knocking into Zuma and sending the pair of them tumbling over.

  “Look out!” cried Tom.

  With a squeal Zuma landed in Tom’s canoe, knocking it off the edge of the bank and sending it crashing into the water!

  The canoe flew down the river, carried away on the foaming white water. Zuma had fallen on her back, while Chilli had buried himself in the bottom of the canoe. Dazed, Zuma pulled herself up and took the seat behind Tom.

  “I hope you know how to steer this thing!” she yelled, over the rushing water.

  Tom didn’t have a clue. It was the first time he’d ever been in a canoe. But if he didn’t learn fast, they would be torn apart on the rocks in the river. Picking up a wooden paddle, he plunged it into the water and paddled for his life.

  “Come on!” he called out to Zuma. “Help me!”

  Zuma found her paddle and began pulling it through the water. Together they struggled to keep the canoe upright. Spray was flying up from the river, stinging their eyes. On the bank behind them, Tom could see Gam and Arn hurriedly pushing their canoe into the water and paddling after them.

  “Look out!” cried Zuma. “Rock!”

  A spiky rock loomed up in front of them. Digging his paddle into the churning water, Tom frantically tried to steer the canoe around it. Together he and Zuma fought against the current, which seemed determined to hurl them into the rock. There was a loud groaning sound as the canoe grazed the side of the rock, and then it slipped past.

  There was no time to celebrate – the canoe was still hurtling down the river. Working together, Tom and Zuma managed to keep the craft steady, even as it bounced and tossed in the powerful current. Within a few minutes Arn and Gam caught up with them, setting the two canoes on a side-by-side course. “You’re doing fine!” Arn called.

  Now that he had got the hang of canoeing, Tom felt exhilarated by their journey along the wild river. Zuma giggled as the craft rose over the waves and crashed down again, sending up an icy spray. Chilli was the only one of them who wasn’t having fun. He bolted from one side to the other in a panic.

  “Don’t get too close to the edge, Chilli,” Zuma warned. “The water’s getting even rougher up ahead.” But the Chihuahua was already standing on his hind legs with his front paws on the front of the canoe, barking at the waves.

  Zuma was right – Tom could feel the current growing stronger. He had to work even harder to keep his oar steady when he dipped it into the water.

  They came to a sharp bend in the river, and when their canoe went whipping around it, Tom could see enormous rocks jutting out of the water like broken teeth. Here the current was like lightning, moving even faster and harder as it swirled around the jagged stones.

  The next moment, the canoe nearly tipped over, bouncing off a rock with a jolt. The craft lifted out of the water, hitting the surface again with a smack that sent Chilli flying over the side and into the foam.

  “Chilli!” screamed Zuma.

  Tom held his breath until the dog surfaced, sputtering and swimming for all he was worth in the freezing froth.

  “We have to save him!” Zuma cried.

  Paddling as fast as they could, Tom and Zuma steered the canoe towards Chilli. The little dog’s head was bobbing on the surface as he tried to keep afloat. The canoe wobbled as it pulled closer, threatening to throw them all overboard. Leaning over the side, Zuma reached out and plucked her dog from the river by the scruff of his neck.

  “Chilli!” she sighed, cuddling the sopping wet dog in her arms. “Thank goodness.”

  But in the rush to rescue Chilli, the canoe had veered down a narrow channel leading off the river. Gam and Arn had been taken by surprise, and were continuing away down the main part of the river. Arn turned in his canoe and shouted something, but Tom couldn’t hear him over the roar of the water. There was no way they could turn the canoe – the current was just too strong. They would have to carry on down the channel and hope for the best.

  “I have no idea where we’re going,” said Tom.

  “Maybe it’s a shortcut to Gam’s village,” Zuma said hopefully.

  A shiver of anticipation ran down Tom’s spine. The sooner they got to the village, the sooner they could warn Gam’s tribe. But Orm’s men were marching ever closer. If Tom and Zuma weren’t careful, they would be caught up in the middle of a dangerous battle – and without Gam to protect them. Still, they couldn’t turn back now. They couldn’t let their new friends down.

  “Fork,” Zuma said suddenly.

  Tom blinked with surprise. “What?” he said.

  “Fork!”

  “Come off it, Zuma!” Tom scolded. “I’m hungry too, but this is no time to be thinking about food!”

  “No! I mean there’s a fork in the river!”

  Tom felt his stomach sink. Ahead of them the river split, cutting itself in two. And without Gam and Arn to guide them, they had no way of knowing which route to take.

  “Left or right?” asked Zuma, her paddle poised.

  Tom had no idea. Then his eye caught the black pendant around Zuma’s neck, glistening with water droplets. It reminded him of the riddle: Go down a path of bubbling blue; when in doubt to the right stay true …

  “Right! We need to go right!” he shouted.

  Together they began paddling furiously towards the right branch of the river. They had to fight the current, which seemed determined to drag them to the left. Tom’s arms were soon aching from the effort. Behind him Zuma gritted her teeth and dug deeper into the water with her paddle. Chilli barked in encouragement.

  It was then they heard a thundering sound. Tom’s first thought was that Tlaloc was nearby, ready to cause trouble again. But this wasn’t just a single thunderclap – this was an endless crashing roar. Tom looked towards the left branch of the river and saw that it ended in a towering waterfall.

  Zuma gulped. “Uh-oh!”

  “Faster!” cried Tom. “Paddle faster, or we’re done fo
r!”

  They redoubled their efforts and at the last second the canoe pulled clear, rocketing down the right-hand branch of the river and away from the waterfall. The water was pouring down the waterfall on to a jagged row of rocks below. If the canoe had gone over it, it would have been smashed to pieces – along with Tom and Zuma!

  As they left the waterfall behind, the water grew calmer. Tom and Zuma’s canoe drifted gently along, and they saw that they were going to rejoin the main river. When they did, they heard a splashing sound behind them. Tom turned to see Gam and Arn paddling up to their canoe. Both the hunter and his blood-son had been looking worried, but they smiled with relief when they saw Tom and Zuma were unhurt.

  “Gam fear you were dead,” said Gam. “Worried the water ate you.”

  “Ha!” Zuma gave a dismissive wave. “It’s going to take more than a few bumps in a river to beat us.”

  “We saw you go off down the channel, but we couldn’t follow you,” Arn told them. “It took a lot of skill to come out alive. How did you manage to avoid the waterfall?”

  “Well,” grinned Tom, with a glance at the black pendant hanging around Zuma’s neck. “Let’s just say we had a little help.”

  “Head for the riverbank,” Gam instructed. “We go ashore here.”

  Obediently, Tom and Zuma paddled towards the river’s edge, where there was a thick wood. The canoe had barely brushed against the bank when Chilli threw himself on to the grass and rolled around joyfully. He was obviously very happy to be back on dry land!

  As Gam dragged the canoes on to the bank, his face darkened.

  “What is it, Blood-Father?” asked Arn.

  Gam pointed to the ground. “Fresh tracks,” he said. “A large group of men walked through here not long ago.”

  Tom’s heart sank. After all they had been through on the river, they still hadn’t managed to overtake Orm’s warrior party. There was no time to waste. They plunged into the trees, not waiting to cover up the canoes with the woven grass mat.

  Inside the wood it was dark and cool. As they walked quickly along a narrow trail, they heard animals scampering through the leafy undergrowth. High above their heads, birds called out to one another in strange screeches and chilling shrieks. Tom shuddered when he felt something slither across his feet. Everywhere he looked in the shadows, he thought he saw one of Orm’s men, ready to jump out.

  “I think I’d rather be back dodging rocks on the river,” he whispered to Zuma.

  “Me too,” Zuma whispered back.

  The narrow trail curved to the left. As they marched on, Tom saw a bush on the edge of the path shake violently.

  “Look out!” he cried. “There’s someone in there!”

  “Get back!” Gam ordered. He drew his bow and nocked an arrow on the string.

  The bush rustled again, and a large deer sprang out on to the path. Tom had never seen such an imposing animal before. It was a stag, with a large rack of antlers above its head. The startled deer took one frightened look at the humans and went bounding off along the path. Gam pulled back on the string and let the arrow fly, expertly bringing down his quarry with one shot.

  “Well done, Blood-Father!” Arn called out. “Now we can feed the village!”

  “We’re going to take the deer with us?” asked Tom.

  Gam shook his head. “No time,” he said. “Leave deer here. Come back for it later.”

  They hid the deer’s body beneath a pile of branches and carried on along the trail. Gam and Arn fell silent, and Tom could tell that they were worried about their tribe.

  The trail led to a clearing in the middle of the wood. Sunlight poured in through the gap in the trees, melting the shadows away. Chilli dashed across, making straight for a tangled shrub on the far side of the clearing.

  “Don’t go too far, Chilli!” Zuma told him. “We haven’t got time to go looking for you if you get lost!”

  The little Chihuahua sniffed excitedly around the base of the shrub. He barked. The leaves began to quiver and shake.

  “What have you found there?” said Zuma. “Is it another deer?”

  With a bloodcurdling roar, a burly warrior charged out of the undergrowth, his axe blade glinting in the light. Tom’s blood froze. It was one of Orm’s men! The warrior ran past Chilli, making straight for Zuma. She yelled with fright, and ducked as he swung his axe. The blade made a deadly whistle as it sliced through thin air.

  Gam let out a furious bellow and drew his axe. With a wicked smile, the warrior turned away from Zuma and ran towards the hunter. There was a loud ring as their weapons clashed.

  “Run, Blood-Son!” Gam roared to Arn. “Warn our village!”

  He quickly brought up his axe, blocking a thrust from the other warrior just in time. The two men snarled at each other, each trying to push the other back. Arn looked like he wanted to step in and help, but Tom pulled him away.

  “Listen to your Blood-Father,” he shouted. “We have to try and save your village!”

  Chilli barked in agreement, and scurried out of the clearing. When Tom and Zuma ran after him Arn reluctantly followed, leaving Gam still wrestling with Orm’s tribesman.

  They raced through the wood as fast as they could, jumping over roots and ducking beneath low branches. Tom ran until his lungs burned, determined not to be the first one to stop. Beside him Zuma’s face was red, but she showed no sign of slowing down.

  Finally, the wood came to an end. When they emerged from the trees on to a grassy plain, Zuma’s face went pale. “Look,” she said, pointing at the sky. “Smoke.”

  Just beyond a nearby hill, clouds of thick black smoke were rising into the air.

  “Our village is burning,” cried Arn. “We’re too late!”

  They raced up the hill towards the village. Even before they could see it, Tom could smell the smoke and hear the sounds of battle – blades crashing, arrows whistling, axes thudding. The air echoed with shouts.

  Gam’s village was a small collection of wooden huts on top of the hill. Smoke was rising up into the sky from where some of the roofs had caught fire. Men were fighting with axes and clubs in and out of the huts. In the thick of the battle a giant figure in a wolf-skin cloak was swinging a wooden mace with a stone head.

  “Orm,” said Arn, through clenched teeth. “We have to stop him.”

  “How?” asked Tom. “We don’t have any weapons!”

  Gam’s tribe had been caught off guard by the surprise attack. As Orm’s warriors pressed forward they fell back into a circle. They seemed to be taking orders from a grey-haired man waving a giant axe.

  “Who’s that?” asked Tom.

  “His name is Col,” Arn replied. “He is a noble warrior and our tribe elder, the most important man in our village. My Blood-Father has great respect for him.”

  A sharp bark from Chilli made Tom whirl around. One of Orm’s warriors had crept up the hill behind them, a dagger in his hand. The man lunged forward at Tom, who just managed to twist out of the way. The surprised tribesman carried on charging past him and Zuma stuck out her foot. The warrior tripped over it and fell sprawling to the floor.

  “Thanks, Zuma,” panted Tom. “We’ve got to get some weapons or get out of here. This is really dangerous!”

  Arn was already racing up the hill towards the village. Tom and Zuma had no choice but to go after him. The air was black from the smoke coming off the burning huts. Luckily the fighters were so busy battling with each other that they didn’t notice Tom and Zuma slipping past them. They spotted Arn taking cover behind one of the thatched huts. He had picked up a bow from the ground and was firing arrows at the invaders.

  “What are you doing?” asked Zuma.

  “This is my home,” Arn said proudly. “I must defend it, just like Blood-Father!”

  At that moment the defenders let out a ragged cheer. Tom’s heart thumped with relief as he saw Gam charging up the hillside towards the village. The hunter had survived his one-to-one combat in the wood. Now he yelled
a war cry at the top of his lungs, swinging his axe in a deadly arc as he fought his way over to the rest of his tribe.

  “Blood-Father!” Arn cried joyously. “He will save the village!”

  Gam stood shoulder to shoulder with the tribe elder Col, and together the two of them began to push back Orm’s men. Arn stepped out to fire his bow once more, only to duck as a flaming arrow flew over his head and buried itself in the roof of his hut. Within seconds the roof was alive with crackling flames.

  “Our hut!” cried Arn.

  Above the sound of the fighting, Tom heard Gam cry out. He turned and saw that Col had fallen to the ground, an arrow sticking out of his chest. The elder was dead.

  “Help us, Blood-Father!” Arn cried out to Gam. “Our home is burning!”

  Hearing his son’s cry for help, Gam left the fallen elder and fought his way through the battle until he reached Arn. The entire wall of their hut had gone up in flames. Tom, Zuma, Arn and Gam had no choice but to back away from the blaze.

  “There must be something we can do!” said Zuma.

  Tom was deep in thought. Without a weapon, he couldn’t help fight off the invaders. But maybe he could think of a way to stop the village from burning to the ground.

  “We can fill buckets at river,” said Gam. “Bring them back to pour on flames.”

  From the way those flames were jumping, Tom knew that buckets would take far too long. He pictured the firemen he’d seen in TV news stories, battling enormous blazes with giant hoses and endless supplies of water. What he wouldn’t give to have a fire hose right now.

  But maybe he had the next best thing.

  Throwing back his head, Tom yelled at the sky, “Hey, Tlaloc! Where are you, you big sissy?”

  Zuma looked at him in shock. “Have you gone crazy!?” she yelled. “Things are bad enough without bringing Tlaloc here. You’re going to make him angry!”

  “I know!” Tom hissed. “That’s the whole point!”