Savage Eden

by Kevin Ashman

  They unravelled his intestines, stretching them as far as they could until there was no more slack to take. At first, he was silent but soon the numbness faded. He screamed, begging for death as they squeezed and pulled his insides in front of his very eyes. Always they were careful not to kill him and when he passed out, they woke him with water. It took him hours to die and I covered my ears to drown out his cries.’

  The hunters stared at Coeden in horror.

  ‘What of the others?’ asked Golau.

  ‘I do not want to know,’ gasped Gafr.

  ‘We must know all their terrors, and then we can face them;’ snapped Golau, ‘continue.’

  ‘The second was staked down on the killing ground,’ he said, ‘and again a hole was cut in his belly. This time they placed eggs inside his skin and sewed up the wound. He was kept on the killing ground for five days and though they fed and watered him, they broke his arms and legs to stop him ripping open the wound or running away. On the fifth day, he screamed through the night as the lizards hatched and ate their way out of his body. The entire time we were tied to stakes watching him as he died slowly from the inside.’

  ‘What sort of demons are these?’ groaned Afon

  Coeden continued.

  ‘The third was tied down and approached by a beautiful woman,’ he said. ‘She paid him great attention and raised a lust in him. She kissed him over and over until…’

  ‘What?’ asked Afon almost afraid to ask.

  ‘She sucked out his eyes.’

  ‘What?’ gasped Gafr in disbelief.

  ‘She sucked out his eyes and spat them out, leaving them hanging on his cheeks. The Baal laughed as he tried to replace them until someone cut the bloody veins that hold the eyes in the head. For many days he was allowed to wander blindly around the camp, tortured and tormented by the children and women.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘They have a pit where they pour their filth,’ said Coeden. ‘Though he could not see anything, he followed his nose to the pit and threw himself in. He drowned himself in their shit.’

  They stared at him in silence.

  ‘That left two of us,’ continued Coeden. ‘We were both taken to the killing place and with the aid of signs it was made clear to us we were expected to fight each other to the death and the victor would be given his freedom. They gave us a knife each and tied our free hands together with five paces of vine.’

  ‘It does not seem as cruel as the others,’ observed Afon.

  ‘Yet it was the cruellest of all,’ answered Coeden blandly staring into space.

  ‘And you were the victor?’ asked Gafr from beneath his cape.

  ‘There was no fight,’ said Coeden

  ‘Why not?’

  Coeden was silent for a minute before continuing quietly.

  ‘He came close, looked deep into my eyes…and slit his own throat.’

  ‘Slit his own throat, why would he do that?’ gasped Afon.

  Coeden looked at him.

  ‘He would not kill me just as I could not kill him,’ he said, ‘He sacrificed himself so I could go free. His name was Blaidd-du, and he was my father!’

  ----

  The pit was silent for a long time before Golau continued quietly.

  ‘Yet you are not free, Coeden,’ he said. ‘Why is this?’

  ‘The chief was angered that he had been cheated,’ he replied, ‘yet he had given his word so I was allowed to roam freely.’

  ‘Why are you still here then?’ snapped Gafr. ‘Why did you not escape if you were free?’

  Coeden threw back his head and laughed aloud.

  ‘Yes I was free,’ he said through his laughter, ‘and you are right, I could leave the valley if I wanted to.’ He stopped laughing. ‘But how far would I have gotten?’ Coeden threw back his cape and revealed his left leg, the grey thick hair stopping abruptly at his knee, just above the white scars of the axe marks where someone had clumsily hacked off his lower leg many years ago.

  ‘Is there no end to their brutality?’ asked Afon to no one in particular.

  ‘You have no idea how far they will go,’ snarled Coeden, ‘you are dead men.’

  ‘This may be so, old one,’ snarled Gafr, ‘but I will take as many as possible with me.’

  ‘Do you think they will give you that chance?’ laughed Coeden. ‘These people are as cunning as the fox and will ensure that they always have the upper hand.’

  ‘They will have to come down here to get me first,’ answered Gafr, ‘and I am telling you there will be more blood than mine on this floor before that day is done.’

  ‘We will see,’ said Coeden. He indicated the drying entrails on the floor of the pit. ‘If you do not want those, will you pass them here?’

  Golau flicked them over with his foot.

  ‘It is over,’ said Afon, ‘our people never stood a chance.’

  ‘There is always a chance,’ said Golau and the group dropped into silence, the only noise being the sound of Coeden noisily slurping on the entrails in the darkness of the pit.

  -----

  They passed the rest of the long night and many of the following nights awake, each deep in their own thoughts as they pondered their fate.

  Each dawn brought a fresh deluge of rain that formed a pool of water reaching their knees before the daily storm abated. The water seeped away through the porous volcanic rock over the next few hours and the prisoners passed the time learning more from Coeden about their brutal captors. For ten days they stayed in the pit, fed each evening with offal thrown down by their captors, though Kraynar never showed again.

  On the eleventh day, two Baal appeared on the pit’s edge and lowered a rope.

  ‘One-leg!’ the order came and Coeden shuffled across to take a grip on the vine.

  ‘That’s the name they have for me,’ he said, ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Golau.

  ‘I don’t know, but they need me,’ he said.

  ‘What use are you?’ asked Golau. ‘In fact, why have they kept you alive this long?’

  ‘I have my uses,’ said Coeden wrapping the rope around his outstretched arms, ‘who do you think taught them our language?’

  ‘Ready!’ he yelled, and the two Baal hauled him quickly up out of the pit to disappear over the edge.

  ----

  Chapter 30

  Kraiach sat in front of the cave entrance with his hands tied behind his back. Since he had been taken from the cage, he had waited for several hours, surrounded by armed Baal. At first, he had been treated as a captured animal, and the women and children of the Baal had gathered to stare at his naked hair covered body. They had poked him with sticks until he bled, and they also took great delight in throwing him bits of food between the thick wooden bars. Yet throughout his ordeal, he stared steadfastly into the distance showing no reaction to the pain or humiliation. At night, when the village was quiet, he carefully sought out the bits of food lying amongst the grass bedding and ate everything he could find. If he were to get out of here, he would need all the strength he could get.

  Weeks passed until eventually Kraynar came with the ever present Baal warriors and forced Kraiach out of the cage to lie face down onto the volcanic rock. He was marched across the village at spear point and up to a ledge high above the rocky huts, forced to his knees, and ever since then, had been waiting at a cave entrance, receiving a sharp jab with stone tipped spear whenever he moved in an attempt to ease his cramped position.

  Kraynar appeared out of the cave entrance, ducking to avoid hitting his head.

  ‘You are honoured, Hairy-one,’ he said, lifting Kraiach’s chin with the point of his spear, ‘our God has specifically asked for you.’ He nodded to the guards and they lifted him to his feet before forcing him forward. Kraynar cut his binds, and he was kicked in the small of the back, sending him sprawling into the dark. He looked back as the warriors tied a wooden palisade over the entrance, locking him inside the
small cave.

  Not having any other choice, he slowly walked forward along the tunnel feeling his way by dragging his fingers gently along the rock walls as he walked. The path sloped gently downhill and within a few minutes, the strain on his eyes eased as a red glow permeated the darkness. Slowly, he walked forward into a space such as he had never seen before.

  The tunnel opened into an enormous cavern with a smooth domed roof of black, glistening rock, shining like polished glass and reflecting a red glow that illuminated the cavern with the warm colours of a giant setting sun. Looking around, he immediately saw the source of the reflected light, as a red glow emanating from a natural fissure in the bedrock that split the cavern, like a giant bloody wound.

  He could see nothing in the immediate area so he walked carefully toward the chasm, and as he drew closer, his breathing became more difficult as the heat from below used up the breathable air. He dropped to his knees and crawled on his belly to the edge to look down into its depths.

  The source of the heat lay far below and Kraiach stared in awe at the river of molten rock that flowed slowly at the bottom of the fissure.

  Kraiach withdrew from the edge and quickly filled his lungs with what oxygen there was available. He had never seen such a thing and for a few minutes, he had completely forgotten the reason, he had been brought here. The heat was making him feel uncomfortable, so he walked back toward the wall where it was cooler.

  There was no way to get across the strange fire, and he peered into the gloom, straining to see any movement on the other side. Seeing nothing, Kraiach explored his side of the cavern once again, but finding no side caverns or hidden exits, he returned to the Fire-cave to face whatever fate awaited him.

  ----

  Kraiach sat for several hours in the place of fire waiting for something to happen. Eventually, the heat helped him drop off to sleep and his chin hung on his chest as he snored lightly. Across from him on the other side of the divide a pair of eyes watched him closely from deep within the darkness of the cave.

  Though his eyes remained closed and his body gave no indication of consciousness, Kraiach awoke instantly, aware of being watched. He sniffed gently trying to establish what sort of creature was close by and he slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head. Across from him in the shadows on the far side of the fire stood the silhouette of a hooded figure standing in a corner, half hidden by the deep shadows. Kraiach jumped up and approached as close to the pit as he could, staring into the darkness to make out the creature on the other side.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked the indistinct shape, using the language of Golau’s people.

  ‘We would ask the same question,’ the ethereal reply came.

  ‘I am Kraiach,’ he said loudly, ‘first male of the Mwrllwch.’

  ‘The Mwrllwch were a great and knowledgeable people who walked these lands in the time before,’ said the voice. ‘None have lived since before the last ice.’

  ‘It is true that most of my people died,’ he said, ‘but some of us lived on. How do you know the words of Golau’s people?’ he asked.

  ‘The Baal brings us many prey, Mwrllwch,’ said the voice, ‘it is in our interests to know the words so we can learn the ways of the outside world.’

  ‘Are you not Baal?’

  ‘We are not Baal,’ answered the creature.

  ‘Why do you take the Two-feet from outside your lands?’ asked Kraiach changing the subject. ‘Is there not enough prey in this fertile place?’

  ‘It is a long story, Kraiach,’ was the reply, ‘but it is worth the telling and we have not talked to anyone for many years.’

  Kraiach stared across the void into the realm of the Slorth-baal. The concave amphitheatre carved out of the rock opposite was obviously a place of formality and audience for the Baal Gods, designed with fear and intimidation in mind. Skeletons in various stages of dismemberment lay everywhere, their bare skulls leering from all angles in their final unwelcoming resting place, glowing a eerie bloody pink in the reflected light from the subterranean fires. High seats cut into the rock were adorned with carved statues of strange fanged predators, the like of which Kraiach had never seen or heard of before. Worst of all, was a freshly slaughtered child who lay on a central sacrificial stone, his throat cut and one arm ominously missing from the torso.

  ‘We are old, Kraiach of the Mwrllwch,’ said the voice. ‘Many lifetimes ago there were many more of us in these caves. After wandering these lands my people settled here in safety, and though there were other tribes in the valley, we lived together in peace. We traded. They brought us food and we gave them medicines and magic. Soon they feared us and we made this place as a place for them to worship. At first, it was amusing and we encouraged their ways, but after a while, they came to rely on us for everything. Then one day, when we cured one of their chiefs, they sacrificed a child to show their gratitude.’

  ‘And you let them?’

  ‘It was too late,’ she said, ‘they had grown aggressive and we had to keep giving the impression of strength to maintain our own safety. Soon we carried out our own sacrifices and mutilations in this very chamber to intimidate the Baal. We led by terror and they treated us as Gods. Every full moon, they would make their sacrifices and bring us the corpses. Before long, the only meat we ate was human flesh, and eventually, we could not live without it.’

  ‘And you eat it still?’ he asked.

  ‘The Baal still bring a live prisoner for our knives on the first day of the full moon,’ she said. ‘Today, you are it.’

  ‘Only one, how can this feed a clan?’

  ‘Aaah, the thing is, Kraiach, there are only two of us left. Me and shall we say, my sister.’

  ‘What happened to your people?’ asked Kraiach.

  ‘They left this place and travelled south to the warm lands’

  ‘And left you here?’

  ‘We were the cause of their leaving.’

  ‘How? ‘

  ‘When we were born, my people saw my sister and me as abominations.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We are different.’

  ‘Then why did they not kill you at birth?’

  ‘We were seen as a punishment for the life they were leading, so they left. Only my mother, who saw beyond our…unique qualities…stayed and continued the role of God to the Baal. As we grew, we took her place and occasionally showed ourselves to the Baal, holding them forever in our grasp. We have never left these caves, Kraiach. We are bound here by our cravings.’

  ‘Why do you tell me these things?’ he continued. ‘Why do I not end up under your knife as did all those others?’

  ‘We were curious,’ came the reply. ‘We had news of your form and wished to talk to you. Why does someone from a race such as yours come so far to help a race as lowly as the humans?’

  ‘They are not as low as you think,’ said Kraiach, ‘they have many new and wondrous ways. We would learn from them in order to survive the coming cold.’

  ‘No-one will survive the ice, Mwrllwch,’ said the voice, ‘least of all the humans.’

  ‘You are wrong,’ he replied. ‘Already we have crossed the ice between the mountains to get here.’

  The creature laughed again.

  ‘Oh Mwrllwch, for a species so wise, you know so little. The ice you crossed is but a trickle of water compared to that which will come. Even this great valley will be under ice so deep that its top will not be visible. New mountains will be made and valleys will be formed. Even now the cold gathers its forces to the north and it creeps ever closer. When it arrives, our kind will be no more.’

  ‘Then why do you stay?’

  ‘We cannot leave this place, Mwrllwch,’ said the voice, ‘this is our realm.’

  As they talked, Kraiach examined the distance across the fissure, focusing on the narrowest part.

  ‘What do you want of me?’ asked Kraiach, his brain calculating whether he could jump the distance.

  ‘Of you? Nothing, you are free to
go.’

  ‘And my friends?’

  ‘There is nothing we can do for them.’ she said, ‘forget them and return to your people. Take them south to the warm lands.’

  ‘And would the Baal let me walk free?’ he asked.

  ‘Perhaps not, but there is another way out, so there is no need for you to jump the fire Mwrllwch,’ said the voice stopping him in his tracks as he prepared to launch his way forward.

  ‘The distance is too far and you would simply join the thousands of others who have fed the fires of Bin-naarve. Stand back.’

  The creature shuffled over to the side and produced a knife, cutting a vine tied to a boulder. In the shadows of the far side, a huge tree trunk that had been standing on end was released from its bonds and came crashing down, forcing Kraiach to jump out of the way as it bounced on the rock to span the crevice. He looked up in disbelief, but the creature had disappeared.

  ‘What trick is this?’ he called into the darkness.

  ‘No trick,’ came a distant reply, ‘the way is yours.’

  The age-old timber lay shimmering in the haze from the heat rising from the lava river below. Kraiach took little time to consider. The way back was sealed and the Baal were there in their hundreds, and though the way forward was unknown, there could be a chance to escape and help the others. Quickly he climbed up onto the log and walked gingerly across the temporary bridge to the place of the Slorth-baal.

  A wide avenue carved into the back wall led gently upwards away from the cavern into the darkness, and Kraiach trotted quickly up the hand-hewn slope, past rows of ancient slaughtered captives lining the tunnel walls.

  Several side tunnels and antechambers were visible in the gloom as he trotted forward, but he resisted the urge to investigate these, confident that his target lay to the front. Soon, the stench of death eased and fresh cool sweet air signalled the tunnel was ending. Kraiach turned a corner and standing in front of him was the occupant of these deathly caves.