West of Eden

All along the edge of the grove shouting hunters were setting more and more trees alight. Flames were already shooting up through the branches of the oak before him, jumping to the next tree. A single branch remained in the fire that he had lit and Kerrick grabbed it up and ran with it, past the others. Past Sanone at the far end who was in among the trees, firing them. Kerrick went on a good distance before he jabbed the torch into the undergrowth. The wind whipped the sparks away and in an instant the brush was alight.

Flame and smoke were shooting high into the air now, roiling darkly against the already darkened sky. The trees crackled and blazed, thunder rumbled. The storm had still not broken.

The fargi were having difficulty in rounding up the beasts for the daily slaughter. Something was disturbing them, they kept rushing from one side of the pen to the other, even knocking down one of the fargi, their eyes rolling so that they shone whitely. The Yilanè in charge was shouting loud orders to no avail. She was suddenly aware of a crackling noise and a strange, pungent smell. She turned about to see the sheets of sunlight climbing skywards, black stormclouds behind them.

The smell came again, and a wave of warm and delightful air. What was happening, what could this mean? She could only stand and stare as the flames came close, licking at the nearby trees. Wonderfully warm. The animals were screaming behind her as she walked over and held her hand to the warmth and light. Then she screamed as well.

Ikemend opened the hanalè door a crack and looked out. Akotolp made a peremptory gesture of command, ordering her to open it wide.

“First you send for me — then you block my way,” the fat scientist said, her jowls waggling at the affront. “Admit me at once.”

“I abase myself,” Ikemend said, ushering Akotolp in, then sealing the entrance behind her. “The males have been quarreling again, it is the weather perhaps. There is an injury…”

“Bring the creature here at once.”

The firmness in her voice and the abrupt movements of her body sent Ikemend scurrying away. She returned almost at once pulling a truculent Esetta* after her.

“This is the one,” she said, pushing the male forward. “Starts fights, causes trouble, got what he deserves.”

Akotolp ignored this as she seized Esetta*’s arm and turned it over to examine it. Her thumbs gave an extra squeeze when she did this and Esetta*, his back turned to the guardian, half-closed one eye in a sultry gesture. Akotolp always enjoyed these visits to the hanalè.

“Scratches, nothing more, antiseptic will take care of this. Males will be males…” She broke off suddenly and raised her head, her nostril flaps opening wide as she sniffed the air.

“That smell — I know that smell,” she said, agitation and worry in the movements of her limbs. She hurried to the outer door and opened it despite Ikemend’s protests. The smell was stronger now, the air filled with it.

“Smoke,” Akotolp called out, worry and concern strongly present. “Smoke comes from one chemical reaction only — fire.”

Esetta* drew back trembling at the strength of Akotolp’s feelings, while Ikemend could only signal stupidity and lack of understanding. The smoke thickened suddenly and a distant crackling could be heard. There was now urgency and the necessity for speed in Akotolp’s command.

“There is a reaction called fire and we could be in danger. Assemble the males at once, quickly, they must be taken from here.”

“I have no orders!” Ikemend wailed.

“I am ordering it. A matter of urgent health — need, threat of death. Bring them all, follow me, to the shore, to the ocean.”

Ikemend did not hesitate, but hurried away at once. Akotolp paced back and forth, worried and concerned, unaware that she still held Esetta*’s trembling arm and dragged the frightened male after her. A gust of wind sent smoke roiling through the open door that started them both coughing.

“We ca

When Ikemend came back into the corridor, the reluctant males trailing after her, she experienced great satisfaction when she saw that it was empty. She hurried to close and seal the outer door, ordering the males back to their quarters, relieved that there was no longer a conflict of orders. What place could be safer than the hanalè?

A warmth began to penetrate the walls which was most soothing and satisfying. She only felt a pang of fear when the first flames burnt through the entrance.

It was late by then to do anything to save her charges. She died with their pained cries in her ears.

Alpèasak burned. The wind-whipped fire sprang from tree to tree, the leaves of one igniting the leaves of the other. The shrubbery below blazed up, the walls, the floor matting, everything caught fire, everything burned.

For the Yilanè it was an inconceivable disaster, a physical fact that they could not understand. There is no natural fire in a tropical rain forest so they had no knowledge at all of fire. Some of their scientists did, but only as an interesting laboratory phenomenon. But not like this, nothing like this. For here was smoke and flame, burning on all sides. Attractive at first, an enjoyable source of heat, then an inescapable pain. So they died. Burnt, consumed, blackened. The fire swept on.

Confused, fearful, the Yilanè and fargi converged on the ambesed, seeking guidance. They filled it to bursting yet still more came, pressing forward until the great open area was jammed solid. They sought advice from Malsas‹, pressed close to her, were pushed against her until she ordered them back. Those closest tried to obey, but to no avail against the panic-stricken hordes behind.

There was even greater panic when the flames reached the ambesed. The crowded Yilanè could not escape; they crushed back in fear. Malsas‹, like many others, was trampled and dead long before the flames swept over her.

In the sky above the storm still rumbled distant thunder; the clouds built up in darkened mountains. There was salvation there, though the Yilanè were not aware of it. Never having seen fire they had no knowledge that water could stop it.

Alpèasak died, the Yilanè died, From the fields to the ocean the flames raced, burning everything before them. The clouds of smoke rose up to the black clouds in the sky and the roar and crackle of the flames drowned the cries of the dying.

The hunters sprawled on the ground, blackened by the fire, exhausted. The armed Yilanè they had been battling had either been killed or driven back into the flames. The fighting was over — the war was over, but they were too tired to understand this yet. Only Kerrick and Herilak stood, swaying with fatigue but still standing.

“Will there be survivors?” Herilak asked, leaning heavily on his spear.

“I don’t know, possibly.”

“They must be killed as well.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Kerrick was suddenly sickened by the destruction of Alpèasak. In his need for revenge he had not only killed the Yilanè — but this wonderful city as well. He remembered the pleasure he had taken in exploring it, in discovering its secrets. Talking with the males in the hanalè, watching the myriad animals that filled its pastures. No more, gone. If there had been a way to kill the Yilanè and save the city he would have taken it. There had been no way. The Yilanè were dead and so was Alpèasak.

“Where will they be?” Herilak asked and Kerrick could only gape, too tired to make out his meaning. “The survivors. You said there might be some.”

“Yes. But not in the city — that is gone. Some in the fields with the animals perhaps. On the shore, the beaches, they might have survived there. When the flames die down we can go see.”