PART II

Copyright (C) 2000 by Christopher Leadem.

THE MANTOOTH

(Science Fiction/Fantasy)

Copyright 2000 by Christopher Leadem,

All Rights Reserved

Christopher Leadem

www.aragornbooks.com

THE MANTOOTH

In loving Memory

Edward and William,

gentle cousins

PART I

Sunrise in the Valley

My words cannot say it if the heart will not feel it.

---Jeremiah, son of Kalus

Chapter 1

Kalus* was wakened that morning by the sound of stalking footsteps.

Reaching instinctively for his spear, he raised himself slowly and

turned to face the sound.

*which means, 'The Carnivore.'

There before him, shrouded in the shadows of early morning, he perceived

an ominous silhouette. It was Akar, the lone he-wolf that had followed

his tribe for some time, living off the gnarled scraps of meat that the

hill-people left behind after every kill. Kalus had often wondered what

unaccountable circumstance caused it to leave the safety of the pack to

strike out and fend for itself.

At first he was relieved. For this was only a scavenger, probably

hoping to steal an unguarded morsel and slink away unseen.

But his instincts told him otherwise. There was something unnerving

about the way the beast just stood there, as if unsure of its own

intentions. Even in the dim light of the cave's entrance he could see

that it had not eaten for many days. Arching ribs protruded sharply

through an emaciated chest, and his eyes were wild with the blood-lust

of a carnivore.

Something stirred deep within the young tribesman as he realized the

true hopelessness of its plight. Cut off from the pack it could not

hunt successfully, and there now, it stalked a prey it had no chance of

killing. For all around him his comrades lay sleeping, and if aroused,

they would kill the intruder without hesitation.

Reaching into a crude deerskin pouch slung across his shoulder, he

pulled forth a long strand of cooked meat. Holding it outward

enticingly, he motioned toward the terrified hunter.

Slowly, haltingly, the shadow moved forward, too near death from

starvation to be cautious. When it was close enough Kalus tossed the

meat gently into the air, where it was snapped up quickly by the waiting

jaws of the hunger-crazed wolf. Smiling inwardly, he reached into his

pouch once more and prepared to repeat the procedure.

Suddenly from behind him came the sound of angry voices. Whirling about

he saw that the tribesmen had woken, and seeing the wolf, had armed

themselves to attack. The frightened creature turned, but found there

was nowhere to run. Barabbas, leader of the hill-people, had blocked

the entrance to the cave and stood there waiting, a long spear clasped

in his hairy hand. Forming a circle around the intruder, the tribesmen

began to converge. Helpless, the wolf rolled over in the dirt, as if to

beg for mercy. But the tribesmen showed it none, continuing to advance.

But then a strange thing happened, something that had not been seen on

Earth since the disappearance of modern man from the continent. Not

understanding why, or even how he did it, Kalus stepped forward and

uttered the first word spoken since the day of destruction when all

human tongues had been silenced.

'No!' he cried angrily. And that was all he said.

A deep silence filled the chamber as his comrades cowered back in

disbelief. The he-wolf slipped out silently---grateful, but puzzled as

to why he had been spared.

Regaining their senses, the hill-people's astonishment was quickly

turned to anger and resentment. For many months they had grown wary,

and suspicious of the young, tawny-haired hunter. They could not

understand how this youth could be born of their own flesh, and yet

still be so completely unlike them. For the color of HIS hair was

light, and his eyes were a deep blue. And what of his peculiar desire

to be on his own? Unlike the others he did not seem to need the

protection of the clan, nor sometimes even to want it.

It was Barabbas who confronted him first. Speaking through primitive

sign language, he told Kalus he was angry that he fed and protected the

intruder, and that if he wished to remain among them, he would have to

come to accept the ways of his people. Shaking his spear menacingly, he

added a final note of warning to his primitive demands.

To the end of his days Kalus would not understand what was about to

happen next. But in that moment of high emotion, it was as if something

in the true nature of his comrades had been revealed to him for the

first time. The darkness and evil of their merciless aggression now

repulsed and infuriated him, as if some grotesque and twisted visage.

Bitter, roused beyond words, he let out a cry and leapt wildly toward

the brutal hill-man.

Surprised but not defenseless, Barabbas met the attack head on. Whirling

his weapon with savage skill, he struck Kalus square in the face with

the butt of his spear. Stunned, Kalus fell to the ground, and before he

could move, found the point of Barabbas' spear held threateningly

only inches from his throat.

And so, as quickly as it started, the battle was ended. Though a stern

and forceful leader, Barabbas was not without compassion. Combining sign

language with angry, animal grunts and gestures, he told Kalus he must

now leave the tribe and never return. For by questioning the authority

of its leader he had committed the one act of disloyalty that could

never be forgiven. The other males huddled silently behind him, adding

their mute support.

It was only then that Kalus realized the full significance of what he

had done. Though Neanderthal and ape-like, the hill-people were the only

family he had ever known. Looking to the back of the cave he saw his

mother whimpering softly in dismay, and the other women clutching

tightly to their children, as if uncertain as to what it all meant.

Searching the faces of the men, he found sympathy but not forgiveness.

He had been banished, and knew he could never return.

Utterly confused and dejected, he turned and walked slowly through the

opening and down the shallow, sandy incline which led to the grasslands

below. Looking back one final time, he felt a warm tear trickle bitterly

down his reddened cheek. For he knew that his destiny had been changed

forever, and that life could never again be the way it was before.

Chapter 2

Truly alone for the first time in his life, Kalus wandered aimlessly,

trying to put back the pieces of all that had happened, and think of the

things he must now do to survive. Though rarely forced to do it, he

knew he was capable of hunting on his own.

But hunger was not the real danger. The valley in which he lived was

full of game, but as a result, was also full of predators, many larger

and more powerful than himself. He also knew that some were highly

specialized killers, and ruthless in their struggle to survive. Most

would kill him without hesitation if they thought he had encroached on

their hard fought, territorial boundaries.

His mind filled with such thoughts, he was easily startled by the sound

of padded footfalls behind him. Whirling about he saw that it was only

Akar, and that this time there was no danger. His belly glutted with

the fresh meat of a recent kill, he now followed the man-beast more out

of curiosity than anything else. He was deeply puzzled by the presence

of a lone cave-dweller, and even more so when he discovered it was the

same creature who had saved his life only hours before.

For Akar, unlike his primitive ancestors, was a being capable of

rational thought. And though resembling in appearance the gray wolves

of northern Canada, that was where the similarity ended. Although

unable to formulate intricate patterns of thought, the wolves of the

Valley had long since existed in well-defined clans, not unlike the

wolves of Kipling or Tolkien. The two studied each other a moment in

silence.

Then suddenly both man and beast stiffened, simultaneously aware they

were no longer alone. Kalus' sensitive hearing had detected the

hissing breath of a nearby predator, while Akar's keen nose (he heard

the breathing as well) now caught the thick and unmistakable scent of a

Commodore. Not wishing to remain and discover its source, the wolf

darted quickly away, leaving the man-child alone with his fears.

As the rasping hiss grew louder and nearer, Kalus headed instinctively

for higher ground. Trapped among the shadows of a narrow canyon he was

unable to see his pursuer, but knew from the sounds of shuffling stone

that it was gaining on him rapidly. Moving to the craggy bluff upon his

right he began to climb, hoping his enemy would be unable do the same.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. Emerging from the darkness the nightmare

took a shape. Raising itself stiff and hunchbacked to the top of a

massive, sunlit boulder, it took flesh as an enormous reptilian

carnivore, like a tiny lizard slowed, and swelled to immense

proportions. Throwback to the rock-climbing monsters of an age long

forgotten, it moved among the lesser stones with terrifying grace.

Desperate beyond words, Kalus began searching wildly for shelter.

His efforts were not in vain. Coming to a crumpled shelf jutting out of

the rockface, he spied a small opening just ahead and to his right, and

with the giant reptile just a few short yards behind, rushed headlong

and breathless into the welcome shadows of a small cave.

But the danger was not yet passed. Though unable to fit the whole of

its body into the small enclosure, the lizard was not so easily

defeated. Forcing its head into the mouth of the cave it shot forth a

long, snake-like tongue, hoping to catch the man-beast as a frog might

capture a fly. After several narrow misses, Kalus realized that his

only hope was to delve deeper into the ever-increasing darkness of the

cave. His eyes not yet accustomed to the failing light he moved

cautiously, not wishing to exchange the present danger for that of a

blind fall. Feeling his way slowly along the grainy, lichen-covered

walls, he tried to be certain of each advancing step.

But in spite of all his caution he slipped, and found himself plummeting

downward through illusory darkness, a silent scream ringing in his ears.

Seconds later he landed abruptly. His last thoughts before losing

consciousness were that something must have broken his fall. For he had

dropped a considerable distance through the blackness of an underground

shaft, and knew that by all reason he should have been killed.

*

Hours passed, as the Mantooth's subconscious struggled to keep him

alive. A severe blow to the back of the head had brought him to the

point of death, and only sheer desire and a tireless will to survive

could save him now. Such was a daily occurrence in the

Valley---nature's way of separating the weak from the strong.

But Kalus had always lived up to such trials in the past, and this was

to be no exception. Fighting his way back to consciousness, he opened

his eyes to find himself lying on his back in a bed of cool moss covered

with furs, his wounds being treated by the soothing hands of a

woman-child. Raising himself weakly, he turned as if in a dream to look

upon the face of his redeemer.

She was, without question, the most desirable female he had ever seen.

Young and fair, her sun-streaked hair and gold-flecked green eyes were

highlighted and contrasted by skin of bronze and trinkets of silver.

Her muscles were smooth and round; the outline of her breasts showed

full beneath a woven garment the likes of which he had never seen. Her

raiment, indeed her very face tones and gestures, appeared to him

strange and exotic, and it seemed apparent that she had come from a land

far away. Using simplified gestures, he tried to ask her who she was,

and what hidden passage it was that he had found. For he sensed that he

was still deep underground, and was puzzled by the dancing firelight and

warmth all around him.

'Not now,' she whispered softly.

Giving him water from a clay vessel, she motioned for him to lie back

and rest. Though he still had many questions he obeyed willingly,

knowing that his strength was all but gone. Lying back painfully he

tried, and finally succeeded, in falling asleep.

The girl remained beside him on the covered lip of rock that formed her

bed, looking up at the shaft and wondering at the impossible

coincidence. She reached out once, as if to touch his brow, but drew

back the hand when she saw that it was trembling. She gazed at him

thoughtful and misty-eyed, wondering.

Chapter 3

Kalus had slept poorly, dreaming of lizards and spiders, and for several

terrifying moments after first awakening, could not determine where the

dreams ended and reality began. Sylviana had watched his troubled

sleep, and tried to wake him gently when his limbs began to tremble.

But the girl, gifted from birth with the power of speech, could not

begin to understand the anguish that a mind without words was subjected

to at such a time. There could be no gentle self-reassurances, no

soothing thoughts or voice of comfort from within. Only her presence,

and the apparent safety of the chamber, helped bring him back slowly

from the wordless world of darkness and terror in which his spirit

seemed to linger. She put a hand to his shoulder but he only pushed it

away, sitting up and looking about him bewilderedly.

Sensing that the time had come for him to be given some answer to his

unspoken questions, the girl tried speaking to him slowly, using the

primitive analogies she hoped he would understand.

'My name is Sylviana,' she began. 'This place you have found

is called Trialis (a purely fictional name, spawned by the need of the

moment). It is a holy place---the temple of our father, the Sun.'

She turned and pointed toward a long, altar-like projection of polished

stone that jutted unnaturally from the worn granite behind it. Several

feet out from its base, ringed by a circle of stones, burned a small

fire. This in turn cast dancing images of light and shadow back upon an

oval mirror, tinted blue-black and mounted securely into the wall above

the slab. In truth they were neither altar nor mirror, but the girl

could think of no other way to explain them.

Not that it mattered. Her words were entirely lost upon the young

outcast. He had listened intently, seeing that she wished to

communicate, but could make no sense of the seemingly infinite barrage

of varying sounds and expressions. He shook his head and looked at her

ruefully, an expression that betrayed more of himself than he knew.

Realizing that her words meant nothing to him, she decided to summon the

Spirit (for so he called himself), to see if His words held true.

Helping Kalus to his feet, she led him slowly and gingerly toward the

altar.

He offered no resistance. Instructing him to remain behind her, she

stepped carefully past the flame and ascended the three steps leading to

the polished projection of stone. Approaching the mirror she hesitated,

as if afraid or unsure, then reached out over the stone and touched her

fingers lightly to the glass, activating the machine. As the unseen

circuitry behind it whirred and came to life, a message was carried by

thin beams of laser light deep into Space. She waited a short time,

then spoke.

'Great Spirit,' she began, 'Though I do not know your name.

Come and be among us. For the man-child has come, even as you said that

he would. But I am confused, and he doesn't seem to understand the

words I speak. I'm terribly afraid that I will do something wrong

and drive him away, and be left alone in this place. . .forever.

Please, if you're really who you say you are then come and show

yourself to him. Say something to make him stay. Please, you must make

him stay.'

Though he could not understand the words, Kalus felt the desperation

with which they were spoken, and saw plainly that they somehow dealt

with him. Her softness was unlike anything he had ever known. What

could it mean?

A moment later a deep silence fell over the room, and in the gentle

tension it brought, an outside presence was felt. Barely noticeable at

first, and then undeniably, the two felt another dimension being added

to the room. The colors around them grew suddenly brighter, edged with

gold, and in the back of their minds they felt the vicarious sensations

of a great, bodiless spirit swooping downward from the heavens, like a

giant eagle diving towards the Earth. The room became dark, all save

the misty blueness of the mirror. The fire dimmed, as if on cue, and a

pinpoint of brilliant light appeared at the very center of the glass.

There it grew in size and intensity until the magnitude of its

brightness forced Kalus to shield his eyes and look away. Sylviana stood

motionless, face turned and arm raised, disbelieving. For until now the

Spirit had spoken to her only as a voice, a signal translated into words

by the machine. The image was dimmed to a tolerable brilliance. She

lowered her arm.

Then a different Voice was heard, deep and alive, like the whisper of

the wind and the roar of an ocean. It was an eternally resilient and

yet melancholy sound, time-wizened and thoughtful, never fully joyous or

sad.

'Sylviana,' it began solemnly. 'Sylviana, I have come. Your

vigil has not been in vain. For the Mantooth has been brought to you,

even as I said that he would. Be at peace, I will speak to him now as

you ask.' Seeming to turn its attention toward Kalus, the Voice began

again. And somehow, though not miraculously, he understood.

'Come, look upon me, young one, and do not be afraid. There is much

that I would say to you.' Slowly Kalus turned back toward the glass,

beholding for the first time a sight that few men had ever seen. There

before him, floating gently amid the vastness of heaven, he looked

direct and unhindered into the glowing white-light majesty of a living

dwarf star. And whether the true source of the transmission or not, the

image itself was real.

Steady and unwavering, the Voice continued. 'Long ago, when my heart

was younger, the being that became my flesh gave birth also to many

orbiting spheres. Most were stillborn, as is often the way of

heaven. But three lived on. These have been called by men Venus, Mars

and the Earth. Each in its own way and in its own time was capable of

bearing and supporting new life. But of the three, the one called Earth

was fairest. Like a fertile womb it lay sleeping, a perfect

cloud-veiled globe of wide red lands and mighty oceans. Already the

throbbings of life could be seen, as tiny colonies of cells swam

restlessly among themselves, waiting only for direction. It was here

then I chose to sow my seed, that life should come from life, and my

spirit be continued.

'So it was that after a time very long and yet very short, creatures

of flesh came to swim in Earth's oceans, later to walk upon the land.

But still I perceived a great void: there were none to look back and

wonder, as I did, at the mystery of Universe which had spawned them.

And so, as if it were always meant to be, Man came forward, in truth

more of himself than by any action of mine. He was by far the most

gifted of Earth's children, with hands freed to toil and mind free to

think. He was a wonder of perception and dexterity.

'But man possessed a terrible flaw, a fault unforeseen in any of my

eager, nuptial thought. Because of his greater intelligence, man

perceived that he would one day grow old and die, a certainty unknown to

his animal brothers, only guessed at by the wisest. Realizing this, he

could also foresee the inevitable sorrows of sickness and despair, along

with a host of imagined terrors his mind could not even give names to.

It was from this knowledge that the Demon was born: the Demon of Fear.

'And this fear eventually destroyed man. Through all his generations

he could not overcome it. Great men rose up, and some who were more

than men, to challenge the demon and cast it aside. Victories were won,

but they were not lasting. Always the fear would change shape and rise

again, equally hideous, and often more powerful than before.

'It was in its way a glorious struggle, and at times it seemed that

Eternity held its very breath, as ten thousand eyes from above looked

down to see the forces of good and evil do battle in such broad and

sweeping strokes. But the cost in human suffering was enormous, and

after so many years I knew in my heart that an end was drawing nigh upon

it. For Nature carries its own purposes, and will not be denied in the

exercising of its sharp and merciful will.

'So it was that on a day whose horror I shall never be able to block

from my thoughts, the evil that had grown in Man finally and decisively

overcame the good. The mind that was given to create, used its cunning

instead to devise weapons so powerful and heedless that nothing on Earth

could stop them. And when fear took the hearts and minds of the

multitudes they were unleashed, thoughtlessly, one in answer to the

other, until all reasons for the conflict were lost among the fury and

panic of destruction.

'Only a handful survived. Six billion voices cried out to me, to save

them from the onslaught. But I haven't the power, young ones..... I

haven't the power.' The air grew thick and heavy around them.

'The seed of Man was all but destroyed, left to sleep for centuries

in the blackened voids of Time. It slept, and even had I wished to I

could not of my own will revive it. Only Nature heals the wounds of

time.' The Voice paused, as if gathering itself for a final effort.

'But now the flame is alive once more, cradled in your young and

willing hearts. I implore you both, for the sake of those who struggled

so long and hard before you, spread that flame anew. Feel the one

passion that can yet save us, the one emotion that moves even the

coldest distant star: the perfect glory of human love.

'Indeed, it is the one gift I have left to give you. Even now my

time grows short, for this place is no longer mine to command. Kalus, I

would ask that you take to your heart the young woman, Sylviana. Be to

her strength and shelter, for she is dearer to me than any words can

hope to express.

'But you must both know, I can promise you nothing. Your survival

must depend on your ability to learn from the ways of Nature, and upon

your will and desire to endure. Kalus, as it is still within my power,

I return to you now the gift of speech. Use it wisely. Farewell.'

Then both voice and spirit were gone, and only Earth-life remained in

the chamber.

'Wait!' cried Sylviana. 'You can't leave me here, please.

Come BACK.'

But even as she spoke the image in the mirror faded, and a narrow beam

of violet light shot forth from its place in the glass. Coming to rest

in the center of Kalus' forehead, it seemed to hold him there against

his will. He felt his whole body tingling with an electric sensation

that centered at the base of his spine, intensifying as it reached the

smooth-folding membranes at the uppermost portion of his brain. His

mind churned with unfamiliar sounds and images, as if a thousand tiny

doors had suddenly burst open from within, flooding a dark chamber with

new and unimagined light.

Then the feeling was gone and the beam released him. The firelight

returned with its dancing glow, as Kalus slumped to the ground.

Recovering himself enough to be awe-struck, he turned to the girl for

whatever explanation she might offer.

'It's all right,' she said reassuringly, though not at all sure

herself what it meant.

Deep in her own thoughts, she still hadn't noticed the wolf, who had

slipped in through the darkness once more to be with the woman-child he

had befriended. Sensing her mood it had not tried to attract her

attention, but waited patiently instead a short distance from the altar.

Kalus saw him. He pointed.

Grateful for the intrusion, Sylviana descended the steps and went to

greet him. Going down on one knee she gently stroked the soft,

silver-gray fur, ruffling his ear and gazing into the peaceful,

intelligent eyes. He seemed to readily accept the presence of the

man-child, and now reminded her more of a harmless pup than of the

savage predator she knew he must be in the world outside. It was Akar,

of course.

'It's all right,' she began again, turning back to her human

companion. 'He won't hurt you. The wolf is my friend.'

'Yes,' answered Kalus without thinking. 'I know him well---

'Sylviana!' he stammered. 'I speak! My mind is all around me.

How can these things be?'

'I'm not sure,' she replied honestly. 'But I'm grateful

for your company all the same. I've been here alone for so

long.....' She stopped when she saw the weary, washed-out confusion

of his face. Though far from happy herself, she realized that in this

moment his need was still greater.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered sadly, eyes to the ground. 'You

have enough to think about already.' Slowly the words came to her.

'Try not to worry. Things will work out for us, you'll see.

Right now you should eat, then I'll check your bandages and you can

sleep a while longer.' He nodded gratefully.

Sitting weakly on one of the steps, Kalus let his mind go blank.

Sylviana went to prepare a meal as best she could, and the he-wolf

retired to a favorite corner to lie down. For the moment, at least, all

was as it should have been.

A very rare moment, indeed.

Chapter 4

Kalus woke feeling strangely insecure. It was a feeling he had known

before, and one he had come to respect. Rising quickly, he

instinctively scanned his surroundings. At first he could not remember

where he was. The events of the day before had struck so suddenly, and

with such sweeping change that he found his mind racing, trying to put

back the pieces of all that had happened, and think what he must now do

in answer.

Slowly it came back to him. The piled furs on which he sat had been

placed for him there by Sylviana, the young woman-child who lived in

this place, some sort of wide underground passageway. She had nursed

his wounds and spoken strangely of a land he would never see. Of the

rest he was still quite uncertain, but at least sensed that he was safe,

a knowledge that helped quiet his fears, and soothe the angry horde of

questions that kept pounding at his brain. Looking across the room he

saw that the girl lay sleeping a short distance away, lying in a similar

bed among the shadows of the far wall. She had tried to make him sleep

there instead but he refused, it being so foolishly placed beneath the

unprotected shaft. At her feet rested the he-wolf, Akar, the creature

most largely responsible for his present plight. Seeing him Kalus

remembered his banishment, an event which had yet to make its full

impact upon him. He shook his head in dismay.

HOW WILL I STAY ALIVE? he found himself asking. EVEN THE WOLF BARELY

LIVES, AND HE IS BY FAR A GREATER HUNTER THAN I.

Though the thought itself was depressing, Kalus marveled at how quickly

and clearly it had formed in his mind. Forced to live without the

certainty of words, all previous thought patterns had of necessity been

based around images and memory, a slow, tedious process that had almost

always stifled him in any attempt at higher thinking. He thought of the

god whose voice he had heard---was that part real or imagined?---and of

its strange powers inside him. BUT WHAT DID IT ALL MEAN? The question

was too much for him. He put it from his mind.

His thoughts returning to his own survival, he began to search the

chamber for food. The girl seemed well fed, and there must doubtless be

a reason. He had known upon sight that she was not a hunter. Her eyes

showed no trace of the desperate aggression so permanently ingrained in

the predators of the Valley. There was a certain look a seasoned

carnivore developed, a hardened gleam, hungry and haunting, that

identified it instantly to others of its kind. Sylviana's eyes were

peaceful and trusting, something which had puzzled him from their first

meeting. And though he could not put the feeling into words, a part of

him deeply resented the apparent ease with which she survived. HER body

was clean and unscarred. Her stomach was full, and her muscles smooth

and round. He knew without looking that his own body, though young and

strong, bore countless reminders of his own, day to day struggle.

Finding no food in the curving, main chamber, he turned his attention

toward a high arching gateway that led deeper into what he now

recognized as a large cave. Though he had not been certain the night

before, the soft light of an early morning sun now clearly illuminated

its entrance, behind him and to his right, removing any fear that he had

fallen into some dark and treacherous underground maze.

But the sheer size of the alcove he now entered, gave rise to a whole

new series of questions, the answers to which he feared he would not

like. For all around him lay great mounds of treasure, and strange

artifacts his mind could not begin to identify. Piled bronze and silver

coins, chalices studded with diamonds and emeralds, rusting weapons of

every shape and description met his eyes.

Yet these were not what puzzled him. Such things could also be found

along the banks of the river which led to the Island. No, again it was

the sheer size of it all which troubled him. For both the entrance to

the frontal chamber and the arch he had just passed through, were easily

large enough to give passage to creatures infinitely more powerful than

the girl. Why had they not claimed the shelter as their own, or at the

very least, made short work of both the girl and her wolf companion?

Searching among the shadowy back reaches of the cave, he found his

answer. There in the darkness, packed together in thick, faintly

luminous clusters of yellow-green wax, lay several large deposits of

sebreum, self-synthesized food of the giant praying mantis.

'So that is why she is so well fed,' he scoffed, though deep

inside he trembled. 'She has been living from the labors of another

creature's food supply.' It also explained why no predator, no

smart predator at least, had ever dared enter the cave. He knew that

somewhere just outside it, in plain sight for all to see, the massive

creature had left its unmistakable mark of possession---the jagged

outline of a pyramid, burned into the rock by the acidic secretions of

special glands in its throat. It was a mark none would dare question,

and to trespass in such a place meant certain death.

For the Mantis, though not the largest, was without question the

strongest and most widely feared monarch of the Valley. Its triangular

jaws could sever trees in an instant, and the sharp rows of teeth on the

instep of its foreclaw could tear even the thickest hide to ribbons. He

also knew that it must soon return to claim the shelter, and would not

hesitate to kill them all if it found them still lingering near its

jealously guarded treasure room.

Kalus paced nervously, trying to resolve an irresolvable conflict within

him. Sylviana had said the night before that she could never leave this

place, that she was somehow protected here from the perils of the

outside world. Every instinct and emotion he possessed told him not

leave her. But the Mantis..... He had no way of knowing that even now

the question was being rendered academic.

Hearing Akar's deep growl, followed by a scream, he rushed wildly

back toward the frontal chamber. Fearing the worst he drew out his

crude stone knife. But at the thought of the Mantis it began to feel

very small and useless in his hand. He turned the bend of the enclosure.

Though the creature he found there was not the one he expected, the

danger was equally great. An enormous woolly land spider, too primitive

to understand the markings above the cave's entrance, stood

motionless on the ledge just beyond it, peering into the shelter with

cautious uncertainty. Searching for a home, food had not been its main

objective. But Kalus knew it could change its mind at any moment, and

was quite capable of devouring them all.

'Sylviana!' he cried desperately. 'To the shaft through which

I entered..... Quickly!'

But the girl, seeing the real-life manifestation of her darkest

imaginings, could not find it within herself to turn and run. Instead

she stood paralyzed in the center of the floor, staring with total

disbelief into the eyes of certain death.

Only the spider's cautious hesitation saved them. Seizing her by the

arm, Kalus forced her hurriedly toward the opening above her bed. Here

the wall sloped sharply to meet it. Helping her up the pitted incline,

they entered a broad and irregular chimney in the rock. Followed by the

girl he began winding his way up through the spiraling, almost vertical

passageway.

'Wait!' cried the girl, regaining her senses. 'What about the

wolf?'

'He will have to fend for himself!' retorted Kalus angrily.

Taking her by the arm once more, he forced her onward.

Seeing a pale yellow light filter down from above, he finally relented,

slowing their pace. Stopping to rest on a narrow ledge far beyond the

point where the spider could reach them, he felt his heart pounding

uncontrollably. As it did so it sent angry waves of blood pulsing

sharply through his veins, aggravating the deep head wound he had

sustained the day before. The pain, though not excruciating, combined

with the fear and frustration of the moment to form the totally negative

and inescapably fatalistic frame of mind which had haunted him since

childhood. All his thoughts, worded and otherwise, now seemed to crash

in upon themselves like the breaking of a wave, crushing and smothering

every positive impulse, every hopeful thought inside him. Hanging his

head in a gesture of forced surrender he breathed heavily, mouth open,

and waited for the feeling to pass.

Seeing his despair, Sylviana was moved in a way she could not explain.

Having lived most of her life in sheltered seclusion, all such powerful

emotions had existed for her only in books, and always seemed somehow

pretentious and unreal. To see it now in undeniable reality, affected a

dual response within her. She felt at once both selflessly

compassionate, and selfishly afraid. Again she thought of her friend.

'Kalus?' she asked softly, trying hard not to upset him. 'What

will happen to the wolf?' He started to answer gruffly, but seeing

her anguish, mellowed his tone.

'He will be all right,' he said. 'Akar knows the ways of

escape like no other..... The spider has the mind of an ant. He is not

in danger.' Though he had stretched the truth, he hoped she would

believe him. In his heart he knew that the wolf was probably dead, or

at best, trapped in some dark corner of the cave, hoping the spider

would not find him.

But if he intended to calm her he had failed miserably. Something he

said unknowingly, had upset her even more. 'Are all the insects of

your world as large as the spider?' She asked sincerely, hoping to

God the answer was no. The thought of a swarm of giant ants had sent a

chill straight through her.

'Insects?'

'Crawling things with many legs.'

'Of course not,' he said, shaking his head at her ignorance. How

could she have lived so long and still know so little of the ways of the

Valley? But he was no longer angry with her. The intensity of the pain

dying down, he had actually begun to derive some new sort of pleasure

from hearing the sound of her voice.

'Except for the spider and the mantis,' he continued, 'They

rarely grow to be much longer than your hand.' Though the answer was

hardly reassuring, at least she sensed that he meant well, something she

had not been at all sure of before.

'Come,' he said, feeling unusually benevolent. 'There is a

small cave just ahead. We will be safe there.' Taking her by the

hand, they climbed the remaining distance carefully, coming at last to

the wide, shoulder-high cavity that had given him refuge once before.

He searched it quickly before letting the girl enter. But finding it

uninhabited, he helped her up, then lay down and basked in the first

real safety he had known for several days, seeming to take no further

notice.

But Sylviana could find no such release. Crouching on one knee in the

light of the smaller cave's entrance, she could think only of her

friend, the gentle wolf, trapped beyond all help in the lower cave.

Realizing there was nothing more she could do, she remained there in

uncertain melancholy, her mind buried deep in her thoughts.

Chapter 5

Peering down at the entrance of the larger cave, Sylviana kept her

vigil. Kalus had long since fallen asleep, something which troubled her

deeply. She could not understand how he could be so indifferent about

the fate of her only friend. She herself had remained on the lip of

rock just beyond the smaller niche for what seemed an eternity, and

still had seen no sign of either wolf or spider.

She had passed much of the time by studying the awesome landscape that

opened so broadly before her, her first unobstructed view. And she

could summon just enough geology and topography to be both puzzled and

intrigued by the inexplicable diversity of it.

To the left of them, due south at a distance of roughly five miles, lay

a massive sandstone ridge, descending from a high central erg in two

long arms that reached out west and southwest beyond the edge of sight.

Eroded by wind and water, it reminded her most of photographs she had

seen of Monument Valley in the west, though not so old or well defined.

Then there was the phenomenon of the line of granite cliffs from which

she now surveyed the valley. As nearly as she could tell it ran

directly north-south at an altitude varying from five- to

fifteen-hundred feet. At its base, directly below them, a shallow gorge

crept slowly southward to end in a shadowed overhang at the foot of the

sandstone ridge. How the two lines of vastly divergent rock had come

together to form such a neat corner she could not guess. Perhaps

violent flooding had deposited the sand during a great turmoil of the

sea, then left it to slowly age and weather through the intervening

centuries. How many she dared not even think. The contrast between the

two was like day and night.

And to the southwest there occurred yet another bizarre conflict.

Directly in front of them, across the gorge, lay a vast and

gentle-hilled grassland, dotted with muddy pools and small clusters of

wide, African-looking trees. Large herds of grazing animals sauntered

across it at a distance which defied close description. But at the foot

of the sandstone was only cactus and desert prairie. The meeting of the

two, in a long zig-zagging line between rows of opposing hills, was

awkward at best.

And farther west, beyond the savanna larger hills appeared, covered with

trees and high bramble, leading away out of sight. The horizon to the

north was similar, but here the hills were sharper, velveted with pine,

and broken by stark projections of weather-worn granite, apparently the

oldest and most ‘natural' part of the Valley. That is, she

thought, they seemed the least out of place.

She tried hard to read its subtle clues, but still the riddle of

conflicting landscapes eluded her. The only certainty was that the

nuclear holocaust had been everything its foretelling prophets had said

it would be: a complete annihilation of the world she had known, with a

savage and unpredictable rebirth.

Like echoes of a mournful dream, all manner of warm and painful memories

now seemed to come to her from out of the day, phantoms of a past too

beautiful to be real. She thought of her peaceful home in the wooded,

northeastern town. Her father, her friends. All dead. Why had she

been left to go on living? She remembered the words of the Spirit:

'glorious struggle,' and 'the flame within.' But where was

the glory when all she could feel was pain and emptiness? Where was He

now? And as she looked out upon the scene that Nature played before

her, she realized for the first time and with crushing certainty that

life was finite. Physical reality . . .was real. The message hammered

into her relentlessly: all things must one day pass. She would die, as

a hundred billion creatures had died before her. DIED.

It all became too much. Seeking escape, her mind returned to the

present. But that only made her think of her friend, the gentle wolf,

still trapped inside the cave, still in great danger. And as the sun

continued to set far in the west, turning sky to purple and clouds to

pink, she had all but given up hope when the downward spiral of her

thoughts was broken by the gentle tremor of wings overhead.

The sound seemed to come from above and behind her, moving with

deliberate slowness toward the nearer reaches of the sandstone ridge,

now painted a deep orange-red and pocked with growing shadows.

Straining her eyes in the failing light, she thought she saw a large,

multi-winged creature land gracefully atop a weathered crag that shot up

high above the rest. But in the distance and gathering darkness she

could not be sure.

'Kalus!' she whispered loudly. 'Come quick, there's

something out there.'

Startled but alert, the man-child rose instantly. Moving to join her at

the entrance, what he saw filled him with fierce pride. For there in

the distance, perched majestically in dark silhouette against a fading

sky, his eyes perceived the outline of the Mantis, undisputed monarch of

the Valley. Even at that distance he could read its features clearly:

the stately upper body, the foreclaws held so effortlessly, and the

smallish, triangular head, pivoting easily to scan the domain that was

his and his alone.

'The Mantis!' he exclaimed, trying hard to keep his voice down.

'Now we will see what happens to those foolish enough to cross

him!'

*

The Mantis remained motionless, breathing hard. Though capable of

flying great distances, the sheer weight of its body made such journeys

an exhausting ordeal. He was weary to his very heart. But the Mantis

was also a master of stamina and self-discipline. He knew he had only

to rest a short time and his strength would come back to him.

He had landed on the ridge intentionally. It had been many days since

he last slept in the cave, and he wanted to be sure there was no danger.

Not that he was afraid---in his conscious thought he feared nothing. He

simply had no desire to encounter a powerful enemy before regaining his

full strength. But as the breaths began to come easier, he felt his

antennae tingling with anticipation. Somewhere. . .somewhere near, he

sensed the presence of a spider. The vibrations seemed to come from the

direction of his cave.

Realizing the failing light worked against him, he knew he would have to

act quickly. Unfurling his four translucent wings, he lifted himself

slowly into the air. Hovering closer, he searched for clues while

reading the subtle currents of air that curled gently across the

windface. He stopped once in mid-air, turned, then surrendering to wind

and gravity, swooped down upon the broad ledge that bordered the

entrance of the cave.

Resting for a moment just beyond its gothic arch, he felt a sullen anger

rise within him. Though not a vindictive creature, the thought of an

enormous land spider keeping him from the rest and shelter of his lair

sent waves of liquid anger pulsing sharply through his veined and

veinless body. He did not try to stem the feeling, knowing that in

certain measure it gave him strength. He simply allowed the bitterness

to occur inside him, strong and distasteful, then waited for the long

wisdom of his mind to diffuse it. He did not bemoan his fate, nor think

to question the will of the Nameless. He knew what he was, and what he

must do. Summoning a courage born of countless similar encounters, he

drew in his foreclaws and entered the cave.

Surprised and alarmed, the spider reacted in the only way it

knew. Feeling trapped, it rushed directly at him. The Mantis

methodically yielded his ground, leading it out onto the ledge.

Once out in the open the spider slowed, and the two adversaries squared

off, each in its own way trying to assess the relative size and strength

of the other. To the Mantis it was just another battle, dueling a foe

it had fought many times in the past. But to the spider, still young,

it was an entirely new and utterly terrifying experience. Though not

intelligent enough to recognize the mantis as its mortal enemy, every

instinct it possessed warned of extreme danger.

Moving to the place on the ledge he had prepared for just such a

conflict, the Mantis dug his four hook-clawed hind legs into carefully

etched footholds in the rock. Swaying from side to side he tightened

his grip, extending his foreclaws to the limit. Then pawing the air

like a boxer, he stood ready for the spider's charge.

In a way he almost felt sorry for it. He could see that it was young

and inexperienced, and as such stood no real chance against him. But he

also knew that it was his place in Nature to kill it. There could be no

moral question here, only death for one and survival for the other. And

the Mantis had no intention of dying.

Confused and afraid the spider charged. The Mantis simply waited for it

to rush blindly into his outstretched foreclaws, then clamped down

sharply on the thorax joints of its first four legs. Holding it

securely in place, he used his superior height to bring down powerful

jaws upon its vulnerable forehead. From there it was only a matter of

ritual. The acidic saliva softened its thick outer skeleton, while the

razor-sharp triangular jaws tore away with frightening precision. The

tarantula strained mightily, but could not free itself from the

mantis' vice-like grip.

Death was painful but swift. In a matter of seconds the spider's eyes

and forehead were gone. It felt a moment of searing pain, followed by a

shudder, and the darkness and terror were gone forever.

Dragging the lifeless corpse to the rim of the ledge, the Mantis flung

it wearily into the gorge. His limbs trembling with exhaustion, he

turned and strode slowly to the safety of his lair. Reaching the

entrance, he thought he caught a glimpse of shadow dart past him and

into the gathering night, but by then could no longer care. Sleep was

all that mattered now---sleep, and then food. And then sleep again.

*

'Death to the spider!' proclaimed Kalus, trying hard to keep his

voice down. 'Long life to the Mantis, protector of all who live in

Valley.' He turned and started to reenter.

'Kalus?' asked the girl tentatively. 'Don't you feel even a

little sorry for the spider? I mean. . .he is dead now.' She felt

compelled to say something, though she wasn't sure that was it. He

stopped and considered this, puzzled.

'Sylviana. You misread my emotions. It is not hate for the spider

but love for the Monarch I feel. Without him none in the Valley would

be safe, even for a short time. Still, it is hard to feel sorrow for

one who could so easily and thoughtlessly take my life. But perhaps

that is the way of things. To the wolves---'

'Oh my God. Kalus. What will happen to him now?'

'Sylviana,' he answered coldly. 'Not only do you know nothing

of the ways of this land, but your eyesight is poor as well. If Akar

was still in the cave---he is not---there would be no danger. The

wolves are ancient allies of the mantis.' He spoke proudly now,

filled with the knowledge that he alone among his people knew of this

relationship. 'The wolves, like all hunters, are hurt by the

presence of spiders. When one is spotted by the pack, a runner is sent

to bring the Mantis. Then the others keep it in sight, until the

Monarch arrives to kill it.'

The girl had listened, but only enough to know when he had finished

speaking. She was still deeply concerned about her friend.

'What do you mean he's no longer in the cave?'

'Just as I said,' he replied without looking at her. He was far

too excited by the presence of the Monarch to let her childish ignorance

upset him. 'He slipped out just before the Mantis entered.'

'Then we should call to him, let him know where we are.' Kalus

could only shake his head at his companion's needless worry. 'He

knows where we are. He just doesn't want the Mantis to know it too.

Or did you not know he could kill us even more easily than the

spider?' Again he was surprised by her reaction. She seemed hurt and

afraid. 'Don't worry,' he added more softly. 'He will come

to you before the night is over. You should not worry for him so. He

has been guarding his own life far longer than you and I.'

'I'm sorry,' she confided. 'It's just that this is all

so new to me. I don't know what it means sometimes. . .and I'm

scared.'

'That is not a bad thing. I too am scared, but do not let myself

think it. We are safe here, for this night at least. You should sleep.

We have many hard choices in morning.'

She did not answer, but looked into his eyes as if searching for

something. Then she turned, lowered her head, and moved past him into

the shelter. Finding a place where fewer stones piqued the floor, she

crouched and looked back at him, unsure. Kalus remained motionless,

returning her gaze. Finally she lay back and turned away, her eyes

misting.

'Kalus?'

'Yes.'

'Thank you. . .for saving my life.'

'You forget that you fed me, and cared for my wounds.'

'Still.....' She let her voice trail off.

Without further speech Kalus seated himself just inside the entrance,

watching her wistfully as she drifted off into sleep, protected from

outside danger by his own life, and by the pervasive and

all-encompassing presence of the Mantis.

Chapter 6

Akar entered soundlessly just before dawn, the rabbit clenched securely

in his teeth. Purposely avoiding the man-child, he moved instead to the

place where his mistress lay sleeping. He placed the kill in front of

her, gently nudging her with his snout.

Startled from an uneasy sleep the girl bolted stiffly upright, choking

back a scream. Seeing her friend she subsided, but too late to prevent

a confrontation. Alerted by the sound Kalus had woken, and was in no

mood for the treatment he was about to receive from the wolf.

'He's brought us a meal,' he said contentedly, rubbing the

sleep from his eyes. The girl still hadn't seen the carcass. He

pointed.

'Oh, take it away,' she said in disgust, repulsed by its sunken

eyes and contorted expression. 'Take it away.' Coming closer

Kalus started to reach for it, but was halted by the bared teeth and

fierce snarling of the wolf.

'It seems he wants you to have it.' He paused a moment, thinking.

'Your friend has a short memory,' he said coldly, pretending to

lose interest. 'When he was hungry I shared my meat with him.'

In the split second it took for Akar to look up at him, Kalus reached in

and snatched up the carcass. The wolf started to go after him, but

found the jagged point of Kalus' knife held threateningly between

himself and the kill. As he backed away the two squared off, Kalus on

one knee and the wolf standing. Akar began to circle, looking for an

opening. But the man-child turned with him, keeping the point of the

knife between himself and danger. The girl cried out in desperation.

'Stop it! Please, stop it!'

She had tried to understand the reasons for violence in the harsh world

she now encountered, but to see her only two companions ready to tear

each other apart over a blood-stained carcass, was more than she could

bear. Bowing her head between clutching arms like a frightened child,

she wept bitterly. But the tears brought no relief, only deeper anguish

and despair.

Seeing her distress the two stopped circling. Akar went to try and

comfort her, while Kalus moved indifferently to a protected corner to

gut and skin the carcass. He would undoubtedly have been more

sympathetic had he not been hurt several times already by giving in to

similar emotions. He was far too angry now to think of anything but his

own survival. Akar no longer tried to comfort his friend, who only kept

pushing him away. Regaining her composure, she glared bitterly at both

of them.

'Why do you have to BE like this? Why can't you just leave each

other alone?'

Akar had not understood the words, but their meaning was clear enough.

Putting away his pride, he stepped slowly and deliberately toward the

man-child's unmoving form. Coming closer he drew a line in the dirt

just in front of him, signaling his desire for a truce. If Kalus

crossed the line with one of his own it would mean that the truce had

been accepted, if only for the moment.

But Kalus did not answer with words and gestures of humbled acceptance.

Moving his hands in simple patterns he knew the wolf would understand,

he told him instead that he was angered to the point of violence by his

ingratitude, reminding him that if it had not been for his own, selfless

actions, neither he nor the girl would be alive at all. He then drew

another line in the dirt, not across the mark Akar had made, but

parallel to his own body instead, signifying dominance, and made it

clear that the wolf could either accept the truce under these terms, or

fight him to the death then and there.

Akar was curiously gratified by the man-child's response. In truth he

had not forgotten his compassion, but wanted to be sure that he was

worthy of trust. Goodness and compassion were one thing, courage in the

face of danger quite another. To say that he had wholly staged the

conflict as a test of the other's spirit would be incorrect; but once

it developed into such he did not try to stop it. Akar had lived too

long to give his allegiance easily or in haste. Crossing Kalus' line

solemnly, he rolled over on top of his own, blurring it into obscurity.

Realizing what this meant Kalus relaxed, nodding gratefully. Though he

knew the wolf had no intention of being dominated, he accepted the

gesture nonetheless. His body weak from adrenalin's flow, he could

not have backed up the threat if he wanted to. He did not. The truce

was accepted. He reached out an open hand, letting his new-found ally

learn its scent beyond the point of any doubt. The wolf then went back

to the girl while Kalus returned to the task of skinning the rabbit,

trying to keep his hands from shaking as he did so.

'You see,' he said, speaking as much to himself as to the girl.

'Things are not always as they first appear. Your friend was only

testing me. Now we are brothers, as we could not have been before.'

She nodded halfheartedly, not at all sure she believed him.

'You won't fight anymore, will you? Please promise me you

won't.'

'We will not fight.' He continued his work.

There was a pause in which neither spoke. Finally Kalus broke the

deadlock with a question. He truly wished to know its answer, but also

disliked the awkwardness that silence had placed between them.

'Sylviana. You speak as one who comes from far away. Are you then

from the Island?'

'What island?'

'The Island of Ruins across the water.'

'No..... No, I don't think so.' She struggled now, trying to

find the words to tell him that she came not only from a different

place, but from a different time as well. It didn't matter. She

wasn't going to have the chance. In their preoccupation with

themselves the three had forgotten the Mantis. Awakened by the noise of

their scuffle, it climbed toward the inadequate shelter even as they

spoke.

It was Akar who sensed his presence first. Though he could not be

certain of the scent, the wind being in the opposite quarter, the low,

scratching sound of hooked claws searching for footholds was

unmistakable. He did not try to run, nor even to alert the others, but

went without hesitation to wait for the monarch at the entrance of the

niche. He only hoped the Mantis would remember him.

'What is he doing?' asked the girl. At the same moment Kalus

heard a loosened stone sent plummeting to the bottom of the canyon. Its

dry echo sounded sharp and clear below.

'Sylviana, listen to me carefully.' He spoke firmly, moving

closer. 'The mantis is coming toward us. Do not cry out---he

probably won't hurt us. But you must do everything I say without

questions.'

'Go on,' she whispered intently, surprised by her own courage.

'When the Mantis appears at the entrance you must act helpless and

afraid, but afraid of him and not of me. Also, do not try to speak.

Akar will speak for us. Here, he draws closer. When you first see him,

hold on to me tightly, as if shocked and startled. We must make him

think you have never seen him, and had no knowledge this mountain was

his. Now. Prepare yourself!'

When the Mantis' head finally did appear, leering in at them

ominously, she found doing exactly as he told her infinitely easier than

not doing it. She clung to him as if possessed, and the Mantis'

first glimpse of them was exactly as Kalus had wanted it. Akar stood

submissively to one side, allowing the Monarch an unobstructed view.

After studying the three closely, he gestured for the wolf to follow him

to the broad ledge outside the larger cave. Akar obeyed

unquestioningly, snaking his way carefully down the sharp incline.

'What will he do now?' asked the girl, moving with Kalus to watch

from the stone lip that ran like a low parapet just beyond the entrance

of the niche.

'I do not know. He will want to know why we are here, but after that

I cannot say. But I think if he was going to kill us he would have done

it already.' The girl was quietly stunned by the calmness with which

he said the words.

Once down on the ledge, the two communicated in a way known only to

themselves: Akar through a series of short barks and body movements, the

Mantis through subtle movements of his antennae, foreclaws and upper

body. Kalus could only guess at their meaning. Roughly translated,

this is what passed between them.

Skither (The Mantis)- Wolf. Was it you then that snuck from my cave

like a thief in the night?

Akar- Yes, mighty one. I was trapped inside by the spider.

Skither- But why were you in the cave at all? Have you lost all respect

for my sovereignty?

Akar- No, master. I was protecting the woman-child, to whom I owe my

life. I do not understand her words, but she speaks of having woken

from a long sleep, and finding herself in your lair. I tried to make

her leave it many times, but she believes she is somehow protected there

by gods I do not know. When I told her the cave was yours, she wished

only to remain there until your return. She is deadly fearful of the

world outside your domain.

Skither- Do not flatter me, wolf. I have not grown so old as to be

feeble and weak of mind.

Akar- Forgive me.

Skither- Tell me, then. Does she speak of having come from the long

silver box?

Akar- Yes, I believe it is so. What does this mean?

Skither- I'm not certain. Three moon-cycles past I was journeying

far to the north and west among the mountains that grow there. At the

base of one such peak I found a broad and unnatural tunnel that led deep

into the earth. Searching it for spiders, I came across a chamber

filled with many strange and beautiful things. I forgot all else for

the wonder of it. But the thing I would most have for myself was the

long silver box. Inside it was the body of a woman-child, your mistress

it seems. She was fair of face and skin, and I grieved for her. I

tried to touch her, but was stopped by a film which was there, and yet

was not there (fiberglass). Breaking free the webs that held her

(life-support tubes and wires), I brought her here to my cave, thinking

she was dead.

But this passing is not important now. You and she are both welcome on

my mountain. It is the man-beast I do not trust. His kind are

treacherous and unpredictable, and they carry with them the fire that

kills.

Akar- But he is not like them, Master. He is an outcast, like myself,

and worthy of trust. To him also, and more deeply, I am indebted for my

life.

Skither- It seems you owe your life many times, my friend. How is it

that the brother of Shaezar has come to lead such a perilous existence?

Akar- ... Shaezar is dead, killed by a rival while I was away. I could

not serve in a pack whose unwanted leader had slain my true brother, so

I set out to live on my own. The days have indeed been perilous, but I

have vowed never to return.

Skither- This is evil news you bring me. Shaezar was a wise and noble

leader. I grieve for him. It seems that many things have changed in my

absence. (A pause). Very well, then. Send the man-beast down to me.

I would have words with him.

Akar (sadly)- As you command it.

Moving to the northern and uppermost portion of the ledge, Akar looked

up to the place where the others stood waiting. Barking sharply three

times in succession, he summoned the man-child to come down.

'What is he saying?' asked the girl.

'The Mantis wishes to speak to me. I hope that is good. Wait for me

here, I will return as soon as it is safe.'

Feeling terribly small and exposed Kalus began to descend, running

quickly through his mind all the things he wanted to say, while trying

to muster the courage to say them. Stepping weak-kneed out onto the

ledge, he felt his heart pounding, and as he approached the Mantis'

awesome form, felt both hope and despair arise with equal strength

inside him. His mind raced. Had he read the moment correctly? Did he

dare ask for refuge? How would they live if the Monarch refused him?

The moment was upon him; there was no time to ponder.

Bowing low, he saluted the Mantis. Using modified arm and wrist

movements he hoped the other would understand, he signaled the following

words.

'Great Leader,' he began. 'I am called the Carnivore. Do you

read the meaning of my hands?' The Mantis nodded.

'I am sorry for my presence on the mountain. As an outcast, I wished

only to live in the safety of your shadow, but was pursued here by a

Commodore, and forced to take refuge in the smaller cave above your

own.' He pointed, adding after an intentional pause. 'It seems

they have grown bold in your absence.' He looked up quickly, but the

Mantis didn't flinch.

'Great King,' he continued, anxiety rising with each coming

gesture. 'I am no longer one with my people, and live without a

home. The same is true of the female you saw with me. I would have her

as my own, but she is not yet able to protect herself in the wild.....

There is something I would ask of you.' Still the Mantis did not

move. There was no putting it off any longer. He would have to ask him

now.

'I know why you have gone away,' he began nervously. 'And why

you must leave again soon..... The mating of the spiders has reached

its middle season, and will not end for many days to come. You and your

god-friends have many battles yet to fight.'

'Why do you speak this lie?' signaled the Mantis angrily.

'Where do the hill-people hear such a thing?'

'My people know nothing of this,' he answered, as calmly as he

could. 'And I would never tell them. Your secret is known only to

me, and I tell no one. I swear it.'

Skither remained motionless, puzzled by the presence of the strange and

knowing child. Utterly intrigued, he searched the back of his mind for

the meaning of their encounter.

'What is it then you would ask?'

'Since you are called again to the holy task, your lair will again be

left unguarded. I would ask that you allow the three of us to remain

here on the mountain, in the smaller cave above your own. Though each

of us alone are small, together we could create the illusion that you

had not left it.'

'But how, and for what reason do you do this?'

'My friends and I have only a short march of days before the

Commodore must sleep, and many other predators follow the herds to the

South. If you allow me, I could turn our shared need into shared

help.'

'Go on.'

'I have learned in my youth to make a sound like the flutter of your

mighty wings. And Akar could descend daily to the grasslands in plain

sight, as if your messenger to the wolf packs below.'

'How would you make this sound?' Skither was perplexed, and felt

an odd sense of antiquity as he gazed upon the complex and far-reaching

intelligence of one so young. And he had not failed to note the subtle

differences of his appearance: the knowing eyes, the smoother, more

refined features. SO UNLIKE HIS PEOPLE, he thought. AND THE GIRL.

What could it mean? His thoughts were broken off as Kalus answered.

'The sound is made by stretching a skin between two trees, then

soaking it with water and leaving it to dry in the sun. When it has

tightened between them it is beaten rapidly with club-ended sticks,

making a sound like the rhythm of your mighty wings.'

'But how will you use it here, where there are no trees? And why do

you think that my enemies will believe it, when the sound comes from

only one place?'

'It can be built on a frame,' he answered. 'And moved to

different places along the ridge. That way the sound can be sent

echoing down the canyon, and seem to come from many places at once.'

Skither looked down at him thoughtfully. His first instincts told him

never to trust a man-beast. But these were difficult times. Yielding

to the unspoken Tao he consulted the wind, to see what hidden message it

might carry.

A cool breeze swirled about him; the valley grasses swayed with a

golden, browning color on the plains below. He felt the seasons

changing. But more than that he felt his world changing, yielding

slowly to some new order in which he was to play no part. It was not the

first time. The feeling had often puzzled (and frightened) him. There

could be no denying the double reason for their meeting: the air was

charged with it, the mind echo of deja-vu all around it. Searching deep

within himself, he felt the autumn of his life full upon him. He felt

the world he had known growing old. He felt his own weariness, and

again the premonition of impending death..... But what did the Nameless

ask of him now? And how would he answer the man-child?

'You have given me much to consider, small one. But this decision

must be seasoned with time and careful thought. Now I must rest, as you

should well know. Go again to the place where I found you. Do not

leave it until I have summoned you with an answer. Do you understand my

words?'

'Yes, Monarch. Your kindness will not soon be forgotten.' Feeling

relieved but still pensive, Kalus started to leave. An upward thrust of

the Mantis' foreclaw stopped him.

'Yes, master?'

'How many summers have you known?

'Twenty-one, master.'

'And in what season were you born?'

'In mid-winter. Why do you ask it?'

'Twenty winters ago I saw a sign in the heavens and marked it well.

I saw the light of its second full moon surrounded by a misty halo which

seemed to reach down towards the earth. Another, smaller halo erupted

suddenly, and three stars passed through it as they fell from the sky,

all in the same direction, and each within a breath of the other.'

Now it was Kalus who did not understand.

'But how does this passing touch me?'

'I think that perhaps one day you will answer that question for

me.'

The Mantis turned and retired to his lair. Kalus stood watching for a

moment, then turned himself and retreated toward the shelter of the

smaller cave: wondering. Akar had already passed that way before him.

Chapter 7

The hours passed slowly. Using the wood Akar had brought him, Kalus

built a small fire and they divided the cooked meat between them.

Sylviana had protested slightly, but given in when informed that

regardless of the Mantis' decision, there could be no more free meals

of sebreum.

There was an air of restless tension in the small enclosure. For though

being banished from the mountain did not mean certain death, it did mean

a much harder and more treacherous life. Both Kalus and the wolf knew

just how difficult living without a home could be; Sylviana could only

imagine it.

Akar had not forgotten that he and the girl were already welcome to

remain there, but he kept this knowledge to himself. His friend needed

the companionship of her own kind, and he had made a pact of mutual

protection, however tentative, with the man-child. And Akar was a

creature of his word.

As morning yielded gradually first to early, then to late afternoon, the

three had still seen or heard nothing of the mantis. Exhausted by his

seasonal battle with the mating spiders, he lay unmoving and death-like

in the larger cave below them, buried in the deep, recuperative sleep of

an insect.

With time hanging heavy around them, Kalus and the girl were given the

chance, denied them by the turbulence of previous days, to study each

other more closely, and to ask, if they would, the unspoken questions

that had been forming in their minds. Kalus had finished with the

carcass by mid-day---cutting and shaping the skin, sharpening the ribs

against the rock to make bone needles---but showed no sign of interest

in talk, moving instead to look out from the entrance, apparently deep

in thought. Sylviana watched him there in the sunlight, with the wolf

sleeping peacefully beside her, as she gently stroked his fur.

For the most part she studied his primitive attire, crudely made, but

not without a certain atavistic grace. His primary garment consisted of

a large skin, possibly that of a buck, cut and worn like a sleeveless,

thigh-length coat. Worn with the fur side in, it closed in a narrowing

V across his chest, and was bound about the waist by a band of tied

leather. Long slits at either hip allowed his legs their freedom of

movement. Beneath one of these as he crouched could be seen a tanned

and soft-beaten loincloth, tied off with a knot at the crest of the

splayed and sinewy leg closest to her. His boots were made of some

furrier hide, silver-black in color, and tightly bound to his calves by

crisscrossing leather thongs. He also wore thongs about his neck and

wrists, a sharpened clamshell hanging from the former, the strands

dangling loose in the case of the latter. Decorative in appearance,

they were in fact purely practical, serving many purposes as need arose.

He also wore the buckskin pouch, along with a drinking skin from which

he rationed water for the two of them, Akar being free to pursue it as

he might. As for the man himself, his hair was light brown and wild; a

short and irregular beard wrapped a face whose stern features implied a

determination and experience beyond his years.

Nor had she failed to note the striking body beneath, endowed very

probably with more supple and functional strength than any she had ever

seen. More than once she felt her eyes trail across it---the knotted

arms and shoulders, the well shaped thighs and buttocks---very much

attracted.

But it was this same strength of mind and body, infinitely desirable in

a tamer soul, that brought home so consistently her own helplessness

against him. That he could overpower her at any time was obvious, that

he had not yet tried to do so of little comfort. She wondered if

perhaps the presence of the wolf alone protected her. And the hardest

thing was that she did respect him. All his actions seemed to indicate

a courageous and unselfish character. But his morals? She suspected

(correctly) that he had none.

But in truth she need not have worried. The idea of rape was so foreign

and unnatural to his existence that the thought never occurred to him.

As was the way of his people, he intended first to feed and protect her,

to establish his claim and earn her trust, and only then to take her,

willingly, as his mate. And in his own mind at least, he had begun the

process already. His desire and timid affection for her bound him to

her more closely than she knew. At last he broke away from the entrance

and came inside. The wolf stirred.

'It will be hard if he refuses us. Very hard.' He sat opposite

her against a nook in the wall and once more destroyed all

preconception. His face was worried and drawn, full of very human

emotion. Again she felt the presentiment of inescapable reality: that

here before her was true Man, stripped of all pretense, reduced to his

simplest terms.

At length he looked up at her, and seemed anxious to communicate.

Indeed, his eyes almost pleaded for some reassurance. She thought to

herself, then offered a simple question.

'Kalus? What are the rest of your people like?' He shifted

positions, drew one knee toward him, then answered.

'They are no longer my people. I am banished..... For what they are

like, I don't know how to tell you. I can only say they are not much

like me.'

'In what way?' Finally she had something.

'They act more and think less. I think they are closer to the true

predators than I.'

'How do you mean?'

'Well. Let me think how to say it.' A pause. 'My name is

Kalus, which stands for Carnivore, or Great Hunter. My father made it

for me, hoping that such a name would give me strength. I am strong,

Sylviana, but not, I think, in the way he wanted.'

'Go on.'

Again he struggled. 'I draw no pleasure from the hunt. I don't

understand. To my people it is the proudest and most important thing

they do. But to me it is often ugly, and I kill only to live.

Also. . there are times when I do not want to be aggressive. Like now.

If the Mantis would let us stay here, I would trade that safety for all

the meaningless battles..... Perhaps I am just a coward and a fool.'

'No,' she said emphatically. 'You're not.' She had to

restrain herself from going to him then and there. Why did his anguish

move her so? 'Maybe you're just better than they are. You feel

things they can't.'

'I do not feel better. I thank you for saying it, but I do not think

it is so. Barabbas, my new father..... It is easy for me to speak with

you and say I do not love the hunt. But he must feed and protect many

others. Please believe me, that is not an easy thing.' She let it go

at that, sensing an undercurrent of anger, or something, in his words.

Kalus was silent for a time, lost among his thoughts. But as the

daylight began to fade, he too felt the need to know something more of

his companion. Largest in his mind was the question of her origin,

since it carried with it the one answer which truly mattered. Could she

ever be his?

'Sylviana. You say you are not from the Island. How then did you

come here? In all my years I have heard of no other tribe for many

miles around, surely none so fair of face and skin, that wear such

garments.' The girl looked down, and realized for the first time how

odd her own clothes must seem to him: the gauze top, the worn and fading

denim jeans. And her hair, somewhere between blond and brunette, with

streaks of both. Silver earrings and bracelet. But these thoughts were

as a passing shadow on her mind. How could she possibly tell him the

truth of her existence? Somehow she had to try.

'This is so hard. A lot of it I don't know myself.' She looked

across at him. 'Please be patient, and let me choose my words.'

'It's all right. I am patient.'

After several halting starts, she saw there was no other way but to tell

him straight out. Let him understand or believe what he would.

'A long time ago, many hundreds of years I think, there were

infinitely more people on earth. Our civilization had advance so far,

that we could build or do almost anything. We lived in cities as high

as this mountain, and many times as broad, all over the world.

'Unfortunately, one of the things we built the best were weapons,

devices to..... Well, the argument was that they were to protect

ourselves. But really, they had no other purpose than to kill. Some of

the more primitive of these are in the Mantis' cave, though I have no

idea how they got there.' It was useless.

'We destroyed ourselves, Kalus. I don't know how else to say it.

I suppose there were reasons for the War, and in fairness I don't

think either side wanted it. But it happened all the same. We launched

weapons that could kill millions of people from thousands of miles away,

and go on killing years after..... I don't know why I was left

alive.' DON'T CRY. 'All my friends and family are dead.

Everything I knew is gone.' Kalus answered softly.

'Is that what the voice in the mirror was trying to tell me?'

'I thought you had forgotten.'

'I do not forget, Sylviana. And I think of things more than you

know. I am not one of the lesser animals. I am only different from

you.'

'I'm sorry.' Again she hung her head.

'Don't be sorry for things that are not wrong. You have your

sorrows and I have mine. Do not think of it now. There is only one

more thing I must ask you.'

'What is it?'

'Why did you not die with the others? And living, how have you not

grown old? Is your flesh so different from mine?'

'No, Kalus. It's very much the same.' She felt weak and

tearful, but also a strange determination to see it through. An unusual

emotion for her: direct rebellion against despair.

'My father was a scientist, a man of learning. Somehow he knew the

war was coming. Maybe I should have known it, too, but try to

understand. My friends and I had lived with the threat of nuclear

destruction all our lives. It just didn't seem real.....

'My father used all the money he had saved since my mother died, to

build a shelter in the Canadian Rockies. And he was involved with

several of his colleagues, other scientists like himself, in cryogenic

research: a way of putting people into a deep sleep, like hibernation.

'Just before the missiles starting falling..... My father took me up

in his plane. We listened, horrified, to radio broadcasts of the

destruction of the cities, and of the spreading fallout. He told me

that he wanted to put me into a suspended state, which would keep me

alive until..... Until what, I couldn't imagine.'

'My mind just couldn't accept what was happening. I was

terrified, and told him I didn't want to leave him. But he said it

was the only way. When we landed, he said that he was sorry. He had to

drug me, I guess, because the next thing I knew I was in something like

a casket with my father leaning over me, crying, and telling me he loved

me.'

She broke down, turned against the stone wall, and wept. Kalus looked

at her, and but for the iron discipline he had learned, the alternative

to which was death, would have gone to her and comforted her as best he

could. As it was he felt more stirred than at any time since his

father's death, and quietly vowed that he would stay with her, and

protect her until the end.

Sylviana recovered somewhat, looked back at him, and seeing the confused

sympathy of his eyes, concluded.

'I woke in the Mantis' cave, with no idea where I was or how I

came here. I've been alone for nearly three months. But for the

Voice, and later, for Akar..... I nearly lost my mind with fear and

loneliness.' She suddenly realized the wolf was no longer with them,

and that full night was falling. She let her thoughts collapse.

Kalus could not hold himself back any longer. 'You're not alone

anymore.'

Her eyes sought out his, but they were hidden among the deepening

shadows of the nook. With only his limbs clearly visible, he looked

like some phantom sage of the darkness, at once frightening and

reassuring. 'But you must not feel it now. Feeling is for when the

body is safe, and we are not. Now you should sleep..... I will guard

you.'

She moved further into the cave and lay down. But though she tossed and

turned for what seemed an eternity, sleep remained the distant dream of

a child.

'Kalus?' No reply. She sat up and turned back toward him.

'You wouldn't hurt me, would you? Please say you'd never hurt

me.'

'Of course I would not hurt you. Why do you think I stay?' He

added after a time, sounding cold and irritable. 'Go to sleep and

trouble me no more. I have much to think on.'

Now what had she done to upset him? Feeling more lost than ever, she

swallowed hard and turned away. She lay down again, and perhaps an hour

later, fell at last into exhausted slumber.

*

Long after the wolf had returned and lay sleeping beside her, Kalus

remained wide awake, crouched at the edge of the shaft, listening. He

studied the slow, deliberate breathing of the giant insect, trying to be

certain. When he was as sure as he could be that the creature was still

asleep, he began to descend.

He felt hollow as he went, partly from fear, and partly from the

will-crushing desperation of the act now forced upon him. He was angry

at having to be short with the girl, and once more felt bitterly

abandoned and betrayed, though by whom he could not have said. And then

came the voice that told him such an act was unnecessary---that he

risked all their lives for nothing---the cruelest lie of all. No. He

knew what must be done.

But always now his thoughts returned to fear; with every step the

feeling grew. By the time he reached the floor of the Mantis' cave,

terror had completely overtaken him. But still he went on. He HAD to

have a weapon. The Mantis might banish them that very morning, and

without it they were naked and helpless. And he knew that whatever

prayers he might offer, to the God he did not know, no one could save

him now but himself.

*

Later that night he returned, alive but nearly paralyzed with fear.

Unable to overcome the emotion, he went to the girl. Touching her face

with the back of his trembling hand, he woke her gently. He could no

longer fight back the tears as she turned to face him.

'What is it?' she asked. 'What's wrong?' He tried to

tell her what he was feeling, but it was all too much. Rising to a sit

beside him, Sylviana took his face in her hands and tried to understand.

Then she took his head tentatively to her shoulder, where he wept like a

brutalized child. Feeling awkward, but very warm, she stroked his

gnarled hair and rocked him slowly.

When morning came it found them still anxious and afraid, but infinitely

closer than they had been only hours before.

Chapter 8

The Mantis appeared at the entrance of his cave about an hour after

sunrise. Kalus and the wolf had waited by the opening of the smaller

enclosure, and knew without being told that he was ready with an answer.

Seeing them high above, Skither raised one foreclaw and summoned them to

come down. As they drew closer he stepped out slowly toward the center

of the ledge. He wanted to choose the right words.

He exchanged simple greetings with the wolf, nodding passively at Kalus.

He addressed Akar first, and after several minutes the wolf nodded his

understanding and moved to wait at a far corner of the ledge, without

giving any indication what the answer had been. Turning his attention

to Kalus, the Mantis signaled his words slowly and carefully.

'Son of the hill-tribe, I have made my decision. I have thought long

on your words, and on other things you do not know. Understand, I have

good reason to mistrust your kinsmen. But Akar tells me you are not

like them, and I accept his judgment.' He stopped for a moment,

genuinely moved by the man-child's countenance: the troubled face,

exhausted by hope and fear alike.

'I have decided to let you stay, young one. But under the following

conditions. You will remain in the smaller cave, using my own only at

greatest need. Further, you must be prepared to leave it upon my

return, twenty days, perhaps more. You may fool my enemies for a time,

but it is unwise to think you could hold them off longer. I will circle

the mountain twice, giving credence to your sound-making device. Beyond

that you are on your own. I will give Akar the rest of my thoughts. He

stands in my place while I am gone. Heed him well, I do not place my

trust in him lightly..... Do you hear my words?'

'Yes, master. I am grateful.' He wanted badly to leave, but the

Mantis' knowing gaze would not release him.

'Is there nothing else you would say to me?'

Kalus' heart sank. He KNEW! Despair overtook him at the last.

'I--- I took from your cave a weapon. Please believe me, it was not

for myself alone. If you had banished us from the mountain..... I have

only this knife.' He threw it weakly to the ground.

Skither waited patiently, and at length Kalus looked up at him. Again

he signaled slowly. 'Be at peace. I am not angry. You may keep the

sword, and one other weapon of your choosing.' Kalus stared in

disbelief.

'You please me, Kalus, though you do not know it. I see that you

learned long ago the lesson of self-reliance. Now you must learn a

harder lesson still: when to trust. What you did this night took great

courage; you have not changed my mind against you. Only. Hear me,

Kalus, I do not give my thoughts easily. Sometimes it is better to

trust, even at the price of great pain..... Your heart will know. But

do not carry the weight alone. It will crush you.

'That is all. Be at peace.' Kalus lifted the knife and moved away.

But as he walked stiffly toward the steep but passable incline, he felt

love for the Monarch swell his heart to bursting, and hard tears pushing

at his eyes. As he climbed to rejoin the girl, Akar went with Skither

into his cave to receive further instruction. Sylviana met her new

friend on the parapet.

'What did he say?'

Kalus did not answer at once, but took her by the hand and led her to

the one place in the enclosure where both could stand without stooping.

Reaching it he embraced her, but did not cry. He backed away, then sat

down to gather his thoughts.

'We can stay, until his return, at least.'

She knelt before him. 'What about the sword?'

'I was right. He did see me. But he is not angry, and he said that

I could keep it. He said I was very brave.'

'That's because you are.'

'No.' He looked across at her sternly. 'Sylviana. You must

know, this is only a beginning. I am grateful for your compassion last

night, and I am in your debt. But there is still much work to do, and

much danger. There are so many ways that the Wild can beat us..... And

we must be prepared to leave here in twenty days.'

'Yes. I know.' Her tone was lowered. 'But at least you're

not alone.' She reached out and touched his beard with the back of

her fingers. He moved the hand away, but without anger or secret pain.

It was morning still.

Chapter 9

'Sylviana, come here. This is something you must see.' She went

out and stood beside him on the parapet. Skither was preparing to

leave.

He stood solid with legs spread and hooked claws clinging, his abdomen

expanding and contracting as he prepared for the single thrust that

would send a massive burst of air through the small opening in his

purposely dislocated jaw.

He let the final breath gather inside him. Then spreading his wings for

balance, he exhaled in a quick and powerful motion. The result was a

whistling sound so loud and shrill that it wounded the hearing even

through covered ears. All the Valley seemed to hush in its aftermath,

an echo of silence, as if all life for miles around had stopped its

breath to listen. Indeed, thought the girl, even a creature that did

not know the massive killer from which it emanated, would be sure to

stay far clear of the place from which the sound had come. The Mantis

rested for a short time, then repeated its territorial warning.

Akar returned out of the larger cave as Skither's breathing became

normal once more. After several minutes he nodded imperceptibly to the

wolf, then spread his wings and took off slowly. He circled the

mountain twice, swooped low down the canyon as if in anger, then turned

westward at the sandstone ridge and moved steadily out of sight.

Sylviana stood watching Kalus, whose eyes gleamed with some fierce

emotion that was beyond her experience, but not her ability to feel. He

was silent, lost in some world of his past, then spoke.

'It will be a long time before the Commodore ventures so far from its

hole, to steal the flesh of those yet living.'

With this he seemed to come back to himself. He turned to the girl,

contented. 'There is much work to do.' He reached above and

behind her on the rockface to the place where he had set the pelt to

dry. 'Have you ever worked with leather or fur?'

'Yes, a little.'

'Good. Take my knife and see if you can cut four long strands from

the skin, each about as wide as your smallest finger. They need not be

straight; they are only for binding wooden poles. I go to the valley to

fetch them. Do not leave here until I return.' He began to descend,

remembered himself. 'The sword.....' He passed her and reentered

their tiny island of space, emerged with the sword, unsheathed. Its

well-preserved edges looked sharp in the sunlight.

'Be careful,' she said.

'I am always careful. Akar will come with me.' He took a lock of

her hair in his fingers, and would have kissed her if he knew how. He

whistled for the wolf and started down.

'Kalus?' He turned. 'Won't you need an ax to cut the

wood?' He could not hide his smile in answering.

'I don't have to cut it. I steal it from the beaver.'

The two hunters met on the broader ledge and descended into the shadows

of the gorge, leaving the girl with only the large rabbit pelt and

Kalus' jagged knife, in truth not much improved from the museum

relics she had studied as a child. She moved to a small, relatively

smooth stretch of stone just inside the entrance, and laid out the fur

upon it. She sat down and tried to work, but after several tentative

starts had only succeeded in shredding one corner and cutting her finger

on the knife. There seemed no safe way to grasp it, no soft or

unsharpened place anywhere on it.

'Oh, this will never work.' She sat there on the stony ground,

angry and frustrated, sucking her finger and cursing this backward,

half-animal world.

But then an idea came to her. She tried to suppress it, but again the

strange and uncharacteristic stubbornness crept over her. She moved to

the dark fissure of the shaft and looked down, deliberating. After

several minutes of internal bickering, she reached her legs out over the

side, lowered herself to the first shelf, and began to descend.

*

Kalus and the wolf returned late in the afternoon. Sylviana had not

been idle. As the man-child laid five straight and sturdy poles on the

floor by his accustomed sleeping place, he found there waiting for him

four long and curving strands, spiral cut from the skin to assure

greatest length and thickness. The girl returned his questioning gaze,

held up a long hunting knife it its leather sheath.

'If you can steal a sword, I can at least take a few things to make

my life more bearable.'

He looked past her on the floor to see one of the furs from her former

bed, folded over and half filled with treasures she thought to keep. He

asked to see the knife. He withdrew it from its sheath and gazed at it

admiringly, not at all upset. Instead he nodded his approval.

'You have done well. He said we could take one other weapon, and I

see that you have chosen the best.' He gave it back to her. 'What

are the other things? Will he miss them?'

'I don't think so. It's just a few books, some bowls, and a

flask for carrying water. And this.' She pulled the fur closer,

fished around inside it for a moment, drew out a small whet stone.

'It's for sharpening steel.'

Again he smiled. 'You have done very well. I will make a hunter of

you yet.' She put out her arms to embrace the wolf, who pulled away,

though gently. Akar went again to the entrance.

'How did it go with you?' she asked Kalus.

'Your friend is very clever, though his heart is not in it. He drew

away the beavers while I took the poles. The female---' He laughed.

'She was so angry. I think she would have killed me if she got the

chance.'

'Killed you? A little two-foot long beaver?'

'Two feet?' he winced. 'Perhaps the beavers of your world are

only that long, but I promise you, these were larger than any wolf.'

She studied him, disbelieving. A bizarre thought had just occurred to

her. 'Are you telling the truth?'

'Why would I lie?'

She threw back the upper fold of the fur, searched among the books. She

quickly found what she was looking for: PREHISTORIC EARTH, ESSAYS AND

ILLUSTRATIONS. She checked the index, thumbed the yellowed and clumping

pages.

Her mind fell back into itself. Sure enough, sketched there in relative

detail against the background of a large den, was the figure of a great

prehistoric beaver, '.....eight to twelve feet in length.'

Recovering herself, she moved hastily to sit beside him.

'Do they look like this?'

'Yes, more or less.'

She flipped through the stiff, distending pages---Mammals of the

Pleistocene. She stopped at a pair of saber-toothed cats, lurking

hungrily near a tar-pit. 'What about these?' Have you seen

them?'

'Yes, but it is not a good likeness.'

Her mind raced so that she hardly heard him. Was it possible? Had life

reverted to its primitive, violent stages before Man, evolution in

reverse? Her scientific education told her no, it couldn't happen.

But was anything impossible here? She doubted it. She turned the pages

again, stopped at the illustration of a lesser species of cave-bear.

Again she showed him the book.

'Yes, I have seen them, though they live mostly to the north and

west. But it is not a good likeness.'

Exasperated: 'Why, Kalus? Why isn't it a good likeness?'

'Because the bear is standing---in life a bear only stands when it is

going to fight---and still he is only a head taller than the tribesman.

I tell you, the bears of the north are much larger.'

'Tribesman?' In her haste she had failed to note the two fur-clad

Neanderthals which stalked it, spear in hand, from behind a group of

rocks. The face of the nearer was hard and set, with swept-back

cheekbones and heavy, prominent brow. Eyes animal, and yet not animal.

The caption said something about, EARLY MAN IS BELIEVED TO HAVE

SUCCESSFULLY HUNTED.....

'No. It can't be.' Her eyes went wide. 'Your people look

like this?' This time he had no reservations.

'Yes.'

She sat there numb. The realization of the truth had quite overwhelmed

her. Mindless, soulless animals returning to the form of their

primitive ancestors were one thing. Men..... But it was more than even

that. For the first time in her life she knew, really knew, that Man

had once been caught in between, neither fully instinctive nor rational,

animal nor human, left to cross the tenuous bridge alone, and for

thousands of years. The intensity of their fear, and answering

determination, must have been terrifying.

And at what point did he develop a clear mind, and immortal soul? She

nearly wept at the thought: Man's immortal soul. As opposed to the

mortal, unfeeling animals. What a sad and sorry farce. She looked

first to Kalus, then at the wolf---who stood regarding her from the

entrance, feeling, but not understanding her pain. She turned again to

Kalus. One last hope.

'But you don't look anything like that.'

'And I don't look like my people. It is the greatest mystery of

my life, and the reason they mistrust me.' She rocked herself a

little, beyond the point of tears. The man-child waited.

'What is wrong?'

She found she could not answer with words, though the thoughts had come

easily enough: too easy, like vague fears taking shape and becoming

familiar from the smokes of a half-remembered past. He seemed to sense

this, or something like it, and to know that whatever it was she was

feeling, he could not help her now. Not yet.

He continued his work, notching the poles with hard strokes from the

side of his stone knife, as she moved bewilderedly back to her place.

But often as he worked he would look over at her, stirred strangely by

her dismay at simple truths he had long since been forced to accept. He

thought of this, and it puzzled him. At length he said:

'I cannot always let myself feel things. I hope you understand that.

Perhaps, you must feel them for me.'

She glimmered softly with marble eyes and said, 'Yes,' but her

mind was far away. One phrase only kept echoing inside it, gathering

deeper associations as it fell, like a leaf, into place.

THE LIFE OF AN ANIMAL.

Night came, and they slept.

Chapter 10

Morning came slowly, as it will in a cave facing westward, and Sylviana

stirred to find her companions long since wakened. The wolf remained on

his guard by the door, while Kalus continued work on a spear. He had

labored far into the night preparing the shaft, the narrowest and

straightest of the poles he had brought. He was just fitting his stone

knife into the etched groove at the top, to serve as a spearhead, when

he became aware of her.

'Did you sleep well?' he asked without sarcasm.

'Yes.' She rose from the fur, pushed back her hair and took a long

drink from the steel flask, which Kalus had filled. She felt safe and

rested as she brought it down again, no longer oppressed by the curving,

serrated walls and close proximity of her friends. A deeper, and more

necessary sleep she had not known for days uncounted. 'Thank

you.' She screwed back the cap, set down the flask and went outside.

Kalus held the long point in his hand, adjusted it several times in the

slot. When he had marked the best fitting in his mind, he withdrew it

and placed one edge against a flat rock on the floor, then drew out his

round hammer-stone and carefully chipped away at either side of the

base. It was delicate work. One mistake, one overzealous stroke, would

render it useless as a spearhead. He did it well, refitted the point in

the groove.

Lastly he took the long strand that had dangled for weeks from his

wrist, the hide of a buffalo, poured water over it, and wrapped it as

tightly about the shaft as his strength and its thickness would allow.

When he had done and undone this several times, he finally found the

best pattern, and with a grunt of exertion took the remaining length and

forced it down between wood and stone, sealing the tie. Sylviana

returned with the wolf as he held it up and studied it with tired

satisfaction.

'What will you do today?' she asked, though the spear (and her

stomach's emptiness) should have told her.

'We hunt bigger game, if the wolf is willing. Rabbit is good for the

short hunger, but we need tools and clothing for the winter..... And

meat.' Was there a trace of fierce lust in his voice as he said the

word? Or was it hers in the hearing? She didn't like the

implications.

'If you were going to hunt, shouldn't you have done it earlier in

the day?'

'If I had gone out earlier, I think I would have been the hunted and

not the hunter. Let the big cats make their kill. Let hyenas strip the

carcass. Let them all stay contented within their boundaries and only

threaten to kill me. I am patient.'

'Oh.' She stood rebuked. 'When will you go?'

'As soon as I am finished with this.' He took the spear to the

center of the enclosure, held it firmly in his hand. He checked it for

balance, found the best grips, tested the grain and strength of the wood

by leaning it heavily against the ground. 'Good.' He faced the

wolf. Shall we hunt together?'

Akar raised up and gestured toward the entrance. Sylviana, on an

impulse:

'Can I go with you? This place is beginning to get to me.'

Sometimes it was better to confront ones fears.....

His answer surprised her. 'Yes, if you want to. Three bodies are

better than two. But bring the knife and stay very close. I don't

want to lose you.'

With the sun a hand's breadth shy of noon, they set out.

Chapter 11

The company returned exhausted, with several hours of daylight and much

work still ahead of them. Kalus had gutted the antelope before starting

up the ridge, but climbing the pathless slope with such a burden had

proven an ordeal nonetheless. By the time they reached the ledge

outside the Mantis' cave, he could go no further. His legs and

shoulders ached, threatening spasms, and the wound at the back of his

head throbbed with pain each time his heart beat heavily, which for the

past two hours had been almost constantly.

Setting down the kill, he looked up at the remaining distance to the

smaller enclosure. He thought of Skither's instructions, but could

only shake his head.

'We skin the carcass here,' he proclaimed, breathing heavily.

'What the Mantis does not know, cannot trouble his sleep.' Lifting

the carcass one last time he brought it inside, into the relative safety

of the larger cave. Akar and the girl followed him in, too tired

themselves to protest.

Akar lay down immediately in the coolest place he could find. He had

run close to thirty miles that day, much of it flat out, and nursed

emotional, as well as physical fatigue. Neither he nor Kalus had ever

hunted one with the other, and the experience had not been easily

productive. It was true that between them they could bring down larger

game, but their timing together was far from perfect. The wolf could

not begin to remember how many times he had circled the smaller herds,

trying to drive the stragglers to the place where Kalus waited with his

spear. The toil was frustrating and often dangerous, as this predator

or that would react to his unorthodox, and therefore unacceptable

presence.

But the real danger had come while stalking the plains elk. Instead of

bolting when he appeared, the herd leader had turned on him suddenly,

nearly grinding him into oblivion against the side of a large boulder.

Even now he shuddered at the sight of those enormous antlers, coming at

him with such startling speed and agility.

He thought then, very deep inside himself, of how easily the pack had

hunted such game in the past, and of the honor and respect they

commanded. This in turn led to burning memories of his brother, and of

the murdering half-breed that had brought the pack to such shame. The

injustice of it all was more than his mind could accept. It tore him up

inside, and he couldn't get it out.

He wanted to KILL him. He wanted to kill him.

Sylviana was almost in a state of shock. If Kalus had intended to sober

her opinion of what they were up against by exposing her directly to it,

then he had resorted to overkill. Never had she felt so helpless and

exposed as in the presence of that ever-changing panorama of landscapes

and formidable creatures. It was like a bad dream without waking: being

in some monstrous zoo, and then finding that the bars of the cages had

suddenly disappeared. Like but unlike the prehistoric mammals she had

dreaded, inexplicably mixed from the family of continents, they were, in

a word, overpowering.

She had not been so frightened by the large herd animals---these gave an

air of self-satisfied indifference---as she had been by the fierce

predators that hunted, literally, right alongside them. Kalus had said

not to worry, that there was an unspoken understanding when on common

ground and in times of abundance (he had stretched the truth). But it

was hard to remain calm while looking up sandstone hills at mountain

cats seven feet long, with dark traces of mane draggled across

impossibly muscular shoulders. She thought of the subtly changed

hyenas, probably the most unnerving of all, that had swelled like a

tooth-edged tide of hatred to the very limits of their borders, snarling

and threatening. And Kalus, shaking his spear in answer, and crying out

like an animal himself.

And finally the kill, after so many hours. . .she tried to block it from

her mind. But she could not. There it was right in front of her: Kalus

driving the spear deep into the antelope's shoulder as it ran past,

the sudden look of terror in its eyes as it fell. Then the way he had

ripped the knife from her hand and slashed its throat without

hesitation. True, he had ended its suffering quickly. But why did they

have to kill it at all? And what was the point, if this world was so

utterly wretched and cruel? Again the questions came much too easily.

The answers did not.

By the time Kalus finished skinning the carcass it was nearly dark.

They (or rather he) then decided to cook it there as well, rather than

risk the long climb in darkness. The girl halfheartedly suggested they

take it up through the shaft, but this too was impractical. They built

their fire near the back of the curving frontal chamber, concealing the

flames. Kalus made a crude spit from wood gathered earlier, and began

the long, slow process of cooking the meat in strands, that nothing

would be wasted.

*

After a time the smoke gathered above them at its height, trailing and

wisping across the vaulted ceiling to the entrance, forming pools, or

rising like an upward fall through the shaft. Sylviana lay emotionless

on the bed, and watched it flow out like a river of vapor. After what

seemed a long time she heard Kalus' voice calling her to eat.

'I'm not hungry,' she said. He came and sat beside her on the

bed.

'You must eat.' She looked at him. 'I know today was very hard

for you. I know you don't like to kill..... We will try to gather

berries and water plants tomorrow, but I cannot promise it. Please,

Sylviana. You must try to be strong just one more time.'

Her eyes finally saw him, and yet again he was not an animal, but human

like herself, suffering the same pain and empty confusion. For what

little that was worth.

'All right.'

She got up and sat with him on the floor. She ate from the wooden bowl

without relish. But still the food gave her sustenance. Kalus watched

her, saddened, then rose and walked into the chamber beyond. He

returned a short time later, his bowl filled with the green,

sweet-smelling sebreum. He placed it in front of her.

'I know it's not easy for you.'

'But the Mantis.'

'Has a heart the same as I do. Eat.' She regarded him weakly,

blinked from the smoke, then lowered her head and ate.

Kalus returned to his cooking as the fire grew less, and after perhaps

an hour went to sit beside her on a flat stone near the entrance. She

stared out into the formless darkness beyond, a fur wrapped around her

for warmth. But still she shivered. They were silent, then he spoke.

'The Cold World will be coming soon. Winter. Already the days grow

short, and the evenings cool. It is the time of year I like best. We

will be safer then.'

'Safer. How?'

'The herd animals travel south in search of living green, and the

predators must follow. We will be able to move about more freely.'

'But how will we eat?' She didn't want him to stop talking.

'We will eat.' Silence. 'I feel more at peace in the Cold

World. For there, if a man is strong, he can breathe the free wind

unafraid. Only the hardiest predators remain, and among them is

respect.'

'What about your people?'

'They will follow the herds, as they always do.'

'Then how do you know what the winter is like? Or will you go with

them?'

A hurt, disbelieving look came over him. 'NO.' He felt

frustration pushing back at his own will to live. 'These past three

Winters I have lived alone.' He looked out, and thought he might know

what she was feeling.

'I have known loneliness, too, though perhaps it is another kind.

Your sorrow is for friends and ways that have died. Mine is for

companionship that I have never known. Because to my people I am what

this world is to you: something beyond their experience. And because of

that they fear it, and mistrust..... I would be your friend, Sylviana,

but I don't always know how.' She turned, and in the shadows his

face looked worn and grim: there was no doubting his pain. She lowered

her eyes to the ground.

'I just don't understand,' she said, half in a whisper. 'I

don't understand it at all. Why was I brought here and left to go

on? Sometimes I think it was just to have one illusion and then another

stripped away, till there's nothing left but the struggle to survive

and not go crazy. And when the last of my illusions are gone..... What

then, Kalus? What's left?' He thought for a moment, deeply, then

raised his head and answered.

'Life.' He touched his breast. 'What is here inside us.

Perhaps that is not so much. Or perhaps it is everything.' He turned

to face her. 'I cannot always let myself grieve, Sylviana. Can you

see that?' She nodded. 'But if you have to cry, I will try to

comfort you. . .as you once did for me.'

She felt a wall give way inside her. She didn't answer, but slowly

put her head to his chest, silently begging to be held. And finally the

tears came. He held her warmly, feeling so many things. At length she

drew back, and held his eyes with hers. There was only one way out of

this desert. Here and now.

'Kalus..... Will you sleep with me tonight? Not to make love---'

He put a finger to her lips. He knew what she meant. They stayed there

by the entrance a while longer, then went together to the bed.

Akar ate solemnly, without pleasure, then returned to the isolated hell

of his thoughts.

Chapter 12

Morning came softly by the riverbed, with a cool northeastern breeze

that rustled the changing willow leaves and sent long waves of golden

brown across a gentle sea of grass: the Savanna. The boy stood silent

on the northern bank at the meeting of the shallow, stony stream and the

wider, more placid river, breathing deep the autumn air and gazing out

over the pearling waters with a look of boundless wonder. For his was

the magic of youth among the hill-people: man enough to take in more

than the sum of his surroundings, animal enough to feel the bliss of a

mind free from distraction.

He had wandered far from his sleeping comrades, just as his friend the

estranged one used to do. He found himself thinking of Kalus now, and

wondered vaguely, perhaps a bit sadly, if he was still alive. Not that

the thought was deep or the pain acute. But it did seem unfortunate

that he had to be cast out, when maybe he was not so strange after

all. Shama missed him.

Hearing a twig crack behind him, he stiffened. Whirling about, he

searched the sloping embankment with startled curiosity. A lone wolf

stood at the crest of the hill, not forty yards away. He wondered what

it was doing so far from its established hunting grounds. Even as he

did so another head appeared, followed by a low, snaking body. The two

did not move, but stood rather in ominous silence, peering down at him

intently.

But they could not be stalking him. There was no reason.

But then an even larger wolf appeared, standing in dark majesty between

the others, a full head taller than either. On closer inspection there

could be seen some flaw in him, some change. The head was larger and

the ears wider. The snout was shorter and a dark, bristling mane like

that of a horse could be seen as he lowered a haunting mask toward the

tribesman. Black streaks ran down from it across his haunching

shoulders, the yellowish thrust of the upper body yielding gradually to

that of an unchanged wolf. And he was strong, unnaturally strong. His

slitted eyes were fierce and full of hatred: Shar-hai.

The boy took first one step, and then another, upstream away from them,

trying not to show how helpless and afraid he really was. He moved

laterally, not wanting to turn his back. They were coming after him

now, gaining speed with each crouching step. He started to run, but a

loose clump of grassy mud gave way beneath the weight of his foot,

splitting his legs apart beneath him. He fell forward stiffly, landing

half in the water and half on the sandy shore.

The three were upon him in an instant. He tried to call out for help,

but his terror-filled cries were too feeble to pierce the oncoming wind,

and were carried away before they could reach his sleeping comrades,

less than half a mile away. He felt a sharp burst of pain at the back

of his neck, followed by an icy numbness. Then all sensations blurred

and faded. A silent blackness engulfed him, and he was no more.

The two dark wolves, the guard of Shar-hai, stepped back in bloody

triumph, howling their defiance to the skies. Yet slowly the stir of

the kill was dispersed, and the birds in the willows sang untroubled.

***

Kalus had been awake for almost an hour. He had risen to find the wolf

gone, but gave it little thought. Akar had his own life to live as

well, and he had not failed to note his companion's dark mood the

night before. He could not fully reason its source, but knew that it

must be something fairly serious. For the wolves were stoic and

infinitely survivable creatures, who rarely let emotion get the best of

them. Returning from the smaller enclosure with the four poles and his

sword, Kalus thought back to the day of his banishment, and realized for

the first time that Akar's gesture of submission in the

cave---rolling over in the dirt---had not been a plea for mercy. . .but

an act of acceptance. An acceptance of death. He shook his head at the

irony, though the word meant nothing to him. He had no regrets.

He sat down on a stone inside the entrance and worked quietly and

steadily, peeling long strips of bark from the poles, to use along with

the strands of rabbit fur, to bind them together into a frame. Sylviana

stirred dreamily beneath the covers of her bed and he smiled, then rose

to greet her. Her face was to him as a flower in the desert, or a piece

of fruit hanging from the tree when one is very, very thirsty.

His steps were checked halfway by a familiar but unsettling sound: the

hollow wail of human breath through a conch-shell.

'What was that?' asked the girl, stretching, now awake. The sound

came again, faintly louder.

'I must leave here,' he answered. 'One of my people is in

trouble. I will return as soon as I can.'

'Kalus, wait---'

He took his sword from its sheath and left the cave and bounded down the

slope toward the ravine, then up again and on to the flat lands beyond.

*

Akar hesitated outside Kamela's lair, a stone-lipped hole cut into

the hillside. This far his progress had gone unchecked. His nose low

to the ground, he searched the fern-scattered earth and outlying bramble

for unfamiliar scents. He thought it unlikely that she would take

another mate, willingly at least, but if he were to have any real chance

of freeing her, he had to be certain. He found at first only the

day-old scent of an elder female, then traces of an altered musk that

turned the blood to poison in his veins.

Suppressing inner violence, he entered the dank and root-lined swell to

find her lying ruefully in the dirt, nursing her one remaining cub.

Seeing him her eyes glowed life for moment, then dulled, as if recalling

some bitter and irreversible truth. She rose and stood before him,

brushing his ear with her snout, then stepped back and addressed him in

the ancient and subtle language of the wolves.

'Brother of my husband,' she said quietly. 'I am heartened to

see that you live and flourish, but I fear that your time here is

wasted. Shar-hai will never allow you to take me. He draws too much

pleasure from seeing the house of Shaezar in ruin.'

'Wife of my dead brother,' he replied with equal detachment.

'I am alive but do not flourish. How could I live in peace with the

chosen of my heart brought to shame?' He turned away, then gestured

toward the cub. 'What of the others?'

'They are dead. The half-breed has killed all males he has not taken

to himself, or has need of now.' Bitter silence. 'Why have you

come?' He loved her too much.

'I am going to challenge Shar-hai for leadership of the pack. His

pride will not let him refuse me. While his attention is drawn, you

must flee with the cub to Skither's cave. It is the one place he

dare not follow. There you will be safe among friends.'

'But he will kill you.'

'Yes, or I will kill him. Either way I cannot forsake my obligation

to the pack, or to you. Do not dispute me, Kamela, I stand now in my

brother's place. You must be ready to leave as soon as you hear the

sounds of our battle. Travel as far and as fast as you can; carry the

cub if you must. We will not have another chance.'

.. 'Very well.' Her voice was soft and without hope. 'I will

do as you say. Who are the friends I am to meet?'

'A woman-child and her mate. She was brought here by Skither, and is

like no other. Her companion is Kalus, of the hill-tribe.'

'Such as these?'

'Yes. They are to be wholly trusted.' He broke away and went to

the entrance, looking worried and weary of talk. 'Where is Shar-hai?

When does he return?'

'He is said to be hunting with his guard near the Carak, though there

is no shortage of food. But that has never stopped him from killing

before.' Akar felt a strange premonition as she said the words.

'Why so near the hill-tribe?'

'I do not know. He has been gone since nightfall.'

He thought of Barabbas. 'So be it.'

*

His legs were weary and his mind was full of doubt. Perspiration poured

from his brow to the chill of the wind, and his head and lungs ached

from the exertion. But he ran on. Nearing the joining of rivers he saw

his younger brother standing on the far side with the conch-shell

raised, still summoning wildly. He began to wade the shallows, his

sword raised above him. He saw that his brother was crying. The current

welled up around his neck.

Then he saw the body. He fought back a strangling burst of sorrow that

in those waters might well have killed him.

His brother had seen him. Fighting the current, Kalus again found his

footing among the northern shallows, then waded in stubbornly. He

dropped his sword on the bank and went to the body of Shama, still half

in the water, and lifted and carried it gently to the root-covered

ground beneath a willow. Setting it down as he would his own child to

sleep, he stood back. He could not escape the pain. His face was wet,

and he turned to face his brother.

'Who did this thing?' he demanded, with uncontrolled violence in

his hands and in his heart. His brother felt the same emotion.

'The wolves who you protect.' He was not awed by the sword, or by

age.

'Be silent or I will kill you!' flashed Kalus' hands. 'You

know Akar would not do this. WHAT wolves!'

'The Changed One and his guard. I saw them taste Shama's blood

while he yet lived..... Barabbas has gone to find the others.'

'But why was Shama so far from the cave?' He wept outright.

'Why was he here alone?'

At last Komai looked into his eyes, and realized again his brother's

limitless capacity for pain. 'I do not know, Kalus. We made a

hunting camp not far from here. Shama wandered away from it while we

slept..... You must go, brother. If Barabbas finds you here he will

kill you.'

Kalus took his brother's hand in his and pressed it to his heart.

'I go to the northern hills. I will kill the half-breed if I can.

Goodbye.' There was nothing more. He set out.

He made for the north, and so great was his anger and purpose that all

creatures who saw him let him pass unchallenged. He was only dimly

aware that two tribesman, one very large and strong, had passed him to

the west, moving toward the place where Komai stood in lonely vigil. He

did not care.

But as he walked his heart-sickness and rage yielded slowly, reluctantly

to reason. He was not swayed in his resolve to kill Shar-hai---who

might next come stalking one yet dearer---nor spared any measure of the

bludgeoning sorrow and guilt. But with each mile he thought more of

her, and of their indescribable communion the night before. And as the

land became more broken and the granite-boned hills a nearer mark, he

found more and more than he wanted to live, a desire that chafed against

his hatred, and crossed his will to act. He whirled the sword in blind

fury about him, but could not make the conflict go away. He had never

been needed before.

He walked, now passing the mesa that had once, in what seemed another

world, been his home. And he thought, and tried to think, what must be

done. WHAT MUST BE DONE. And how to do it.

Where was Akar? How long before Barabbas would follow? Surely in this

they were not enemies. Which path would the Changed One follow? Surely

he feared the hill-tribe, and would not pass directly in front of their

cave. He was grateful that his head no longer ached and his breath came

easier. He thought of his mother. SYLVIANA.

Such ran the jumble of his thoughts, and the feelings which rose all the

stronger for his efforts to control them.

The wolves, he decided, must have passed on the far side of Carak mesa.

The would follow a small, tree-blinded stream to the hills. The Hill.

There could only be one. I DON'T WANT TO DIE.

'Sylviana.'

*

Kalus sat crouched and still among the twisted bramble that grew,

overshadowed by oak and maple, at the base of the hill. He had reached

the narrow vale first and seen them coming, as he thought, from the

west. He had positioned himself uphill, and downwind of the gentle fold

through which they must pass, betting his life on the skills he had

learned as a boy.

They turned the bend and came closer, scenting the wind. And as he

watched, the man-child was struck, and weakened in will, by the size and

unswerving gait of Shar-hai, whom he had seen before only from a

distance. Now he was less than a hundred yards away.

Suddenly the great head stopped in mid-air, turning left and then right:

searching. At the same moment his guard lowered their noses to the

ground and angrily, anxiously swept the earth about them. Kalus'

heart froze, but even as it did his fingers wrapped more tightly about

the hilt of his sword. The two fanned out fifteen yards to either side,

then doubled back upon their own path. It was not his scent they had

found.

They snarled and tore the ground with their feet, waiting to

advance. For the scent of the true wolf they recognized, and hated.

Only Shar-hai looked about him, sensing, but not seeing, something else.

He too was aware of Akar. His lip curled slightly and a rumble of

distant hatred crawled out.

They advanced up the hill.

Chapter 13

The sky was deep and blue and bare of clouds. The sun shone down bright

and unhindered, but its warmth was fleeting, carried away by the

fretting and inconstant late October wind. Dry and fallen leaves were

whisked up quickly into whirlwinds, only to be abandoned with equal

suddenness, left to drift back to earth as they would. The aged and

wind swept granite thrusts bore countless lichen edged crevices, filled

with the same brown and lifeless needles that covered the ground

wherever rock or pine, or holly did not. The air was cool and clear,

but altogether void of fragrance.

The meeting place had been well chosen. A wide and shallow bowl at the

very crown of the Hill, carved by nature from the rock that formed its

bones, it commanded an unobstructed view for miles in all directions.

Beyond the reach of all but the hardiest pines, it lay bare and open to

the sky above. Here sun by day and star by night were free both to see

and be seen by the descendants of a race as old as conscious thought

upon the Earth.

It is a fitting place to die, thought Akar solemnly. He rested now upon

the southern promontory which stood out from the edge of the bowl like

the horn of a saddle, waiting for his foe to reappear from the cover of

overhanging branches into which he had vanished from view. By now he

must surely be aware of his presence. But he knew Shar-hai would do

nothing in haste.

So arching his head skyward like the wolves of old, he let out a long,

dispassionate howl, issuing his challenge to whatever ears might choose

to hear it. He felt new strength and courage coming to him from out of

the Hill, from the roots of stone and past, and he vowed again not to

surrender his spirit until every chance to kill or injure the usurper

had been utterly spent.

Now less than two hundred yards away on the slope below, the guard

responded with angry growls and defiance. For they still detected only

one forbidden scent. Only Shar-hai showed restraint, held back by the

measured caution of one who had lived his life in subtle but constant

fear of retribution.

Not that he feared Akar's challenge. He had no intention of abiding

by any rules or code of honor in dealing with his brave but foolish

opponent. He knew that if at any point he faltered, his guard would not

hesitate to join the fray.

But still he was uneasy. He had slept poorly two nights before, and

trembled in the shadows of a dark vision.

In his dreams---he had not slept again since---he walked through a bleak

forest of eternal night, the black trunks of the trees gnarled and

twisted like misshapen statues, wrapped about the feet with a chill mist

that rose to a fog and blanketed the horizons, giving all distance a

feeling of timelessness and endlessness.

He walked alone, feeling lost: hungry, no matter how many times he

killed. He stalked and slew first one beast and then another, with none

to rise up against him, and none to mourn the loss of the fallen.

And finally, after an endless, meaningless search, he thought he had

found it, the thing he hungered for. A child, white and innocent and

soft. It had fled before him on sight, flying first down, and then up,

a long bare hill. He pursued it in ecstasy, in torment. Closer and

closer, his body growing weaker, almost sexually, his legs sometimes

moving in place, as his desire became more desperate. He was almost

upon it when---

A terrible Angel of Death stood before him, wrapped in a cold and deadly

light, a flaming blue weapon in its hands. He tried to stop, but

something pushed him forward, irresistible: driven like a piece of meat

onto the stake. He cried out in a voice that was almost human.....

Upon waking he had heard yet again the hoarse words of the hyena bitch

who bore him, as she lay dying, abandoned, in the snow.

'Wreak your vengeance well, son of Shar, and fear not the wrath of

your brothers. For no creature of the wild shall ever slay you.

Neither river, nor mountain, nor lion; but only a man. Beware the dark

masters who walk erect, with the eyes that burn of a world that will

never be.....' And he had raised his head in spite of himself, alone

in the night, and howled his anguish to the wind.

But here, now, there was Akar to deal with. It all seemed so pointless.

For try as he might, he could not make his hatred flare against him as

it had against Shaezar. They were much alike. But yes, he would kill

him. And kill again, until the emptiness of his soul had been sated, or

had itself been devoured.

He emerged with his guard into the clearing that stood before the

southern rise of the promontory. There he was met by the remaining

males of Shaezar's pack. There were only four: an aging outrider,

two yearlings and a one-eyed five year old.

Seeing Akar standing straight and proud above them, the four were faced

with a difficult choice. If there had been but one more seasoned male

among them, perhaps they could fight. But as it was they stood no real

chance against the monstrous half-breed and his treacherous companions,

themselves both large and fierce.

Akar looked down on them with compassion, for their dilemma had been his

before them: whether to serve a hated leader, or to make noble but vain

rebellion against him. The hackles of the guard were raised, and there

was scarcely contained rage in their throats. Shar-hai addressed the

wolf.

'You have issued your challenge, small one. Will you remain there

above us, or come and meet your death in the arena?'

'We will do battle soon enough, my unnatural brother. But first I

will speak to those whose souls remain.' And there was in his voice

something so solemn that it stilled the fires of the two, and granted

him with Shar-hai this last request. He spoke in a dialect they only

half understood.

'Do not despair, you that remain. Even if this battle is lost, the

marauder cannot last much longer. He defies all that is quietly strong

with every step he takes. Nature will not allow it. His death draws

near.'

With that he turned, and leapt down into the arena behind. Shar-hai was

there ahead of him. And for all their snarling threats and lunges, his

guard could not keep the others from pushing past and up the curving

stone trench that led into the meeting place. One female joined them

there as well.

Akar fought valiantly, summoning all the courage born of despair, and

all the strength and guile he could muster. He fought in the only way

he could---refusing to allow Shar-hai to use his greater size and

strength to advantage. Each time the two would bolt together, rising

from impact with heads writhing and bared teeth crashing, he would slide

off quickly and not be broken back, slashing as he did at the flanks of

the other before retreating. In this way he bought time for Kamela,

holding off the death clash as long as he could.

But soon, as he knew he would, Akar began to tire. His lunges at the

legs and ribs of his opponent had done little damage, while the constant

pounding on his own neck and chest had begun to take its toll. Rising

together yet again he remained there, suspended, and aimed for the

throat. He could not get past the others flashing jaws, then was broken

back.

They clashed again, Akar off balance, and it was only through a supreme

effort that he held up against the weight and strength. He slipped

away, and this time Shar-hai lunged at his exposed shoulder. The wolf

turned sharply back into him, trying to seize his front leg; but he was

away. Akar ran a short way, then turned. They rose together, the

larger reaching greater height, forcing him down. He slipped away.

Again. One of the guard suddenly lunged at him, biting deep into his

hind leg before the one-eyed male drove him away. They bickered and

fought. Shar-hai was on him again, tearing at his ear. They rose.

Again.

Slowly they kept fighting and Akar was losing strength and it seemed to

him that the world became a blur of yellow teeth and he was caught in a

circle of foes whose names he had forgotten, and it was like a dizzying

whirlpool or being caught in a ring of fire with the heat and smoke

choking him and all he could do was fight back against the one who kept

attacking him.

And as the horror of it grew and desperation drove reason and

consciousness from him, he became cruel and savage like a dying animal.

And for a time this desperation gave him strength. But soon he knew

that this growling bitter hatred that was the fire beneath living

creatures and which he was feeling only now, was second Nature to

Shar-hai, and what he would be feeling very soon now that he was cut and

in the midst of insurrection. And it was true. Perhaps only seven

minutes had passed before Akar had nothing left and his foe was still

strong. So hideously strong.

The knowledge of Death came to strangely to Akar, as his spirit weakened

and he knew the end was near. And it was familiar, so familiar. It

filled him with a dull horror that was the essence of all the nightmares

he had tried to forget. He knew he would die, and if there had been

time it would have filled him with a great sorrow. But there was no

time. And he was ready to quit when he remembered Kamela, and knew that

he must fight a while longer.

Then sensing his weakness, Shar-hai reached a foreleg across him as they

rose, and with all his weight and strength crushed him to the ground

against a jutting stone. Akar gave a short yelp of pain as he landed

and something in his shoulder gave way. And he knew he could rise no

more.

*

Kalus had heard the sounding of the challenge, but it meant nothing to

him. He kept looking back toward the lower lands and wondering. But

when he heard the sounds of battle, and saw the female running past with

the cub but looking back many times, he understood.

'Akar!' he thought dismally, pounding his head in anger and

self-loathing. 'Why didn't I know it before?'

It all came to him in an instant: the outcast wolf, the murderous

usurper, Akar's underlying despair. And he knew and felt a quiet

dread creep over him. Because he could not wait.

He ran now, all hiding behind him, up the hill toward the place where he

knew Akar was fighting for his life, and for the life of the female he

loved. He thought of Sylviana and nearly stopped---he looked

back---then continued up the hill with the sword in his hand. His

pledge, and the threat of a dangerous enemy left unchallenged, drove him

on.

After a time he tried to pace himself, knowing he would have nothing

left. But still he pushed as hard as he dared. He reached the clearing,

now unguarded, and looked up at the promontory. He could not rush in

blind, with the battle so close, but must have some advantage at least.

So he moved to a place where the rock was scarred and began to climb,

that he would not be wholly without protection.

But his limbs trembled as he went, and when he reached the top he went

to the edge overlooking the arena and cried out his rage and fear in a

voice that was more like a roar than something human.

*

Shar-hai turned from where he hovered over the fallen wolf, and looked

up.

His heart froze. For there above him, framed and distorted by the sun,

stood the apparition of all vengeance: the Angel of Death from his

dream. He stepped back and away, and for the space of three breaths,

had neither strength nor control of his limbs.

But Shar-hai had not lived so long against the apparent will of Nature

by being timid or a fool. He moved out from the path of the sun, and

saw not a fiery angel, but a man---young and fierce and desperate, but

still only a man---who bled the same blood, and could also be killed.

Kalus leapt down into the circle. The guard would have gone after him,

but they could not. The aged male and the one-eye stood before them,

threatening, with the others not far behind. They felt no love or

allegiance for any man, but this one protected their fallen leader. And

they knew not whether they did something brave or foolish, but only that

the moment was too much and they must do it.

Shar-hai began to circle, and to try to understand the strange weapon,

while Kalus felt his heart pounding and the sweat from his palms making

his grip clammy and the sword hard to hold. Finally the waiting and

fear became too much and he rushed at him, slicing the air with the

blade. But Shar-hai slipped away easily and circled behind him before

he could turn.

Kalus whirled to face him. Wielding his weapon with courage but little

real skill, he repeated the attack again and again. Fruitless. The

weight of the sword was too much and his grip seemed feeble, and his

legs still trembled from the weakness of the climb; and his foe would

not remain stationary, or venture within the cutting sweep of his sword.

But he was strong and determined, and confronted by death and he knew

it. He kept the half-breed in front of him, breathed slowly and deeply

and shook with bitter rage as he clenched his teeth and moved forward

again. He swept the blade in a flat, circular motion. But again he

missed, and the guard drew closer, snarling and lunging. He felt sweat

come over him, and the cold chill of knowing he had stepped too far.

And for all his years of learning he could not contain the frightened

rage that sent him chasing and cutting in wild circles and angles while

the half-breed leapt aside, rushing in short bursts and avoiding the

blade, with the hatred of his eyes burning ever deeper.

Then Kalus felt the presence of Death like a grim truth, or a sinister

shadow eclipsing his soul, till all he could feel was a raw, animal

terror. And finally in his desperation he missed badly and slipped down

on one knee, and Shar-hai rushed in and tore at the back of his calf

before he could whirl the sword's hilt, with his elbows hooked, and

strike him feebly and too far in the arc of the swing across the jaw.

And still Shar-hai was nearly upon him before he could thrust the weapon

between them, holding the top of the blade with his other hand which now

bled with a sharp pain. And as the wolf stepped back and began to turn,

the tortured muscles at the back of his leg made it hard to stand.

But he knew he must stand, and he still had a little courage left. So

he rose and faced his foe, who was through with running, and tried to

aim a blow at his head; but his hands would not stop shaking. So he

made one last swoop and ran in the direction it carried him, and for all

his shame at leaving Akar his one thought was to break free of the

circle and run, so hard and so far.....

But Shar-hai rushed up behind him, and his teeth found their mark in the

soft flesh and tendon at the back of his knee. Kalus reeled and fell

forward, the sword flying from his grasp. And he knew it was the end.

He covered his head with his hands and cried out, and waited for the

rush of tearing, yellow teeth.

*

Shar-hai stood for a moment catching his breath, stood glowering over

the man-child whose weapon he had truly feared. Not for nothing had the

hyena bitch warned him of men. This death he would not savor. It must

be swift and final.

He thought he heard a rustle behind him, and one of his guard spoke in

alarm. He turned his head as the point of a spear, wielded without

passion but with skill and fell purpose, split his shoulders precisely

and buried itself in his heart.

*

Trembling with fear, Kalus opened his eyes slowly. Why had Shar-hai not

finished him? Why was he still alive?

The first thing he saw was the body of his foe, large even in death,

lying on its side, the shaft deeply embedded. But the next thing he saw

puzzled him still more, was yet stranger. He saw the hunched and

grizzled form of Barabbas standing not five yards away, looking at him

with tears as large as droplets running down his cheeks. In all his

years, Kalus had never seen him cry. But that was not quite true.

Something in the nerve-heightened sense of the moment, and in the strong

man's broken expression, brought home with sudden clarity the memory

of a day that lay buried among the horrors of a past he had tried to

forget. The day of his father's death.

It had been less than seven years. In the midst of a scourge of

spiders, hunger and scarcity of game had forced the tribe far to the

west, beyond any boundaries or even point of recognition. After a long

and fruitless day's search, the men at last spotted three large deer,

feeding in a clearing on a long hillside surrounded by trees. They had

broken into groups, to circle and surprise them. His father and his

brother, still a boy, had gone alone to the far left-hand side where the

clearing ran through a sunken gap, to cut off that way of escape.

But as they drew nearer the prey, from their respective paths the others

had heard the sounds of sudden, deep growling and forgotten the deer,

who scattered as they left cover and came running to the place where his

father was being mauled and dragged by a bear, also far from its home,

with his brother stabbing futilely with his tiny spear and crying and

screaming as his father made no sound. And the men had killed it in a

fierce battle, but his father lay bloodied and unmoving.

Barabbas had stood for a long time---alone, shaken but not from

fear---then had taken the two of them aside. His heavy hands said

simply, 'I am your father now.' He had turned to walk away, then

turned again and said. 'I am sorry.' A sob made him breathe

heavily and drop his head: a single tear. And that was the only emotion

he had allowed himself to feel.

Now, as Kalus watched him, it was as if a veil had been lifted and he

saw him for the first time, not as the hard and untouchable leader, but

as a man---real, and therefore vulnerable. And he remembered other

things as well. All the times Barabbas had gone hungry so that others

could eat, the way he always stood foremost in times of danger, risking

his own life to defend them. He felt his pain. And he found himself

fighting back tears as he rose.

'Why are you crying?' he said feebly. Then remembering, he

signaled with his hands. 'Why?'

And Barabbas misunderstood, as the wolves and tribesmen stood in silent

truce around them, the guard deserted, and he thought Kalus asked.

'Why did you not let him kill me?' This was too much for him. He

clenched his hands around nothing and bowed his head, and felt as if he

stood at the center of a vast desert where nothing and no one could

touch him and all he could do was fight and not win.

'How could I?' he signaled clumsily, ashamed. His large eyes and

matted hair faced downward, then looked up again, almost pleading.

'I killed him because you are my flesh. You are my son; I will never

have a son. Because I cannot breathe or sleep when I think you are

alone and in danger, and I know it is my fault.

'I was afraid Carnivore; I am often afraid. I also knew of this

killer.' He moved a hand toward the ground, toward the still figure

of the marauder who had ended Shama's life. 'When I saw the wolf

among us in the cave, I forgot all reasons..... But I should not want

to kill Akar. I should not reward your courage with banishment. I am

sorry, Carnivore. I am sorry. I grow old, and afraid of dying.' And

he covered his face with his hands.

And Kalus wept, because he felt the same emptiness. He wept for

weakness and fighting and death, and feeling so much. And he went to

Barabbas and took down his hands, and awkwardly embraced him. And

Barabbas did not know what to do, but only that he loved his son who was

crying, and that he was not alone anymore. His own tears still fell,

but now for love, and he felt the great emptiness filling slowly, and

all the while Kalus said strange words.

'Forgive me.'

Then Kalus backed away, drained of all emotion, and went to see if Akar

was all right. Then he turned back to his father, still feeling though

he had nothing left.

'We are allies,' he signaled. 'I will always fight for you. I

love you, my father, you are stronger than I. Do not be ashamed.'

And Barabbas no longer felt old and foolish, and as he turned to face

the others, felt no shame. They stood silent, as the wolves stood

silent, and Kalus knelt beside him friend, forgetting his own injuries.

Akar tried to raise himself off the damaged shoulder but could not. He

slid down in anguish. And Kalus lifted him and laid him on his

undamaged side, then felt the shoulder gingerly for broken bones.

Finding none he turned to Komai, and one other, and asked them to help

him make a stretcher. His brother was the first to come and kneel

beside him, laying down his spear and taking off a heavy fur he wore

wrapped about his shoulders. Another offered his spear, and they

wrapped the fur carefully around the two shafts. Barabbas watched them

quietly and smiled, though not on the outside, as Kalus signaled to his

brother.

'Help me take him to the Mantis' cave.'

The two of them lifted the stretcher, and began to walk toward the stone

channel to descend. Akar was still in great torment of mind and body,

and it was all he could do to raise his head to the pack, which he must

now rule, and tell them:

'You must go to the South alone. I will follow when I can. Be

cautious, hunt together, and hold fast to hope.' And Kalus, limping

but proud to walk, with his brother behind him carried the stretcher

down the hill.

The others followed.

PART II

The Cold World

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao The name that can be

named is not the eternal name The nameless is the beginning of heaven

and earth The named is the mother of ten-thousand things.

Ever desireless one can see the mystery Ever desiring one can see the

manifestations. These two spring from the same source but appear as

opposites And this seems to us darkness

Darkness within darkness The gateway to all mystery

---Lao Tsu