West of Eden

“That will take too long. I have seen forest fires before. The big trees will smolder and burn for days. Can we get to the beaches along the shore?”

“Yes, there are sandbanks most of the way, all of them exposed at low tide.”

Herilak looked at the sprawled hunters, then grunted and sat down himself. “A short rest first, then we go on.” Above him lightning flashed and thunder rumbled distantly. “Ermanpadar likes the murgu as much as we do. He holds back the rain.”

When they finally went on they skirted the blackened, smoking trees, then made their way beyond them through the unburnt fields and pastures. Though the smoke had disturbed them at first, the animals in the fields here now grazed quietly. Deer bounded away at their approach and gigantic horned and plated creatures watched them pass with little curiosity. When they came to a stream of fresh water they found it covered with floating ash; the hunters had to push it aside to drink. The stream led down to the sea.

The tide was out and they could walk along firm, cool sand, the ocean to one side, the blackened, smoking ruins of Alpèasak on the other. They went with weapons ready, but there was none to oppose them. When they rounded a headland they stopped. There was a river ahead and something large and black just barely visible through the drifting smoke, coming in from the sea.

“An uruketo!” Kerrick called out. “It is going towards the harbor. There may still be some of them alive there, near the river.” He broke into a run and the others hurried after him.

Stallan looked at the bodies of the Yilanè, sprawled on the river bank or floating in the water. She pushed one that lay nearby with her foot; the fargi rolled over, eyes closed and mouth gaping, barely breathing.

“Look at them,” Stallan said, disgust and repugnance in every movement. “I brought them here, forced them to safety in the water — and still they die. They close their stupid eyes, roll back their heads, and die.”

“Their city is dead,” Vaintè said wearily. “So they are dead. They have been cast out. There are your deathless ones if you wish to see who lives.” Her movements were rich with disgust when she indicated the group of Yilanè standing knee-deep in the river.

“The Daughters of Death,” Stallan said, her disgust just as clear. “That is all that remains of Alpèasak? Just those?”

“You forget us, Stallan.”

“I remember that you and I are here — but I do not understand why we are not dead with the rest.”

“We live because we hate too much. Hate the ustuzou who did this. Now we know why they came here. They brought their fire and they have burned our city…”

“There, look, a uruketo! Coming towards the beach.” Vaintè looked at the dark form slipping through the waves. “I ordered them away when the fire came close, told them to return when it was gone.”

Enge saw the uruketo as well and left the other survivors and waded ashore. Vaintè saw her coming and chose to ignore her attitude of inquiry. When Enge saw this she stood before Vaintè and spoke.

“What of us, Vaintè. The uruketo comes close yet you choose not to speak to us.”

“That is my choice. Alpèasak is dead and I wish you all dead as well. You will remain here.”

“A harsh judgement, Vaintè, to those who have never harmed you. Harshly spoken to one’s efenselè.”

“I disown you, want no part of you. It was you who sowed weakness among the Yilanè when we needed all of our strength. Die here.”

Enge looked at her efenselè, at Vaintè who had been the strongest and best, and rejection and distaste were in every line of her body.

“You whose hatred has destroyed Alpèasak, you disown me? I accept that and say that everything that has been between us will be no more. Now it is I who disown you and will obey you no longer.”

She turned her back on Vaintè and saw the uruketo close offshore, called out to the Daughters.

“We leave here. Swim to the uruketo.”

“Kill them, Stallan!” Vaintè screeched. “Shoot them down.”

Stallan turned and raise her hèsotsan, ignoring Enge’s cries of pain, aimed, and fired dart after dart at the swimming Yilanè. Her aim was good and one after another was hit and sank beneath the water. Then the hèsotsan was empty and she lowered it and looked about for more darts.

The survivors had reached the uruketo, the scientist, Akotolp, and a male among them, when Enge turned away. “You bring only death, Vaintè,” she said. “You have become a creature of death. If it were possible I would abandon all of my beliefs just to end your life.”

“Do it then,” Vaintè said mockingly, turning and raising her head so the skin was taut on her neck. “Bite. You have teeth. Do it.”

Enge swayed forward, then back, for she could not kill, not even one so deserving of death as Vaintè.

Vaintè lowered her head, began to speak — but was stopped by Stallan’s harsh cry.

“Ustuzou!”

Vaintè spun about, saw them ru

This was what Kerrick saw as he ran up the river bank. The dead Yilanè on all sides, the living in the water. A single one standing, looking towards them, a Yilanè he would never forget.

“Don’t shoot!” he called out loudly, then again in Sasku. “That marag is mine.” Then he spoke in Yilanè as he went on, his meaning blurred by his ru

“It is I, Stallan, the ustuzou who hates you and means to kill you. Do you flee, great coward, or do you wait for me?” Stallan did not need these taunts, barely heard them. For her the sight of Kerrick’s ru

Kerrick raised his spear, his hèsotsan forgotten, pushed it hard at Stallan’s body. But Stallan knew wild animals well and moved aside so it slipped past her harmlessly, hurled herself on Kerrick and bore him to the ground. Her thumbs clutched into his hair and pulled his head back. Her solid muscles were rock-hard, he struggled but could not move. Straight at his neck she lunged, jaws gaped wide, rows of pointed teeth plunging down to tear his life out.

Herilak’s spear hummed past, caught Stallan full in the mouth, in between her jaws and into her brain. She was dead even before she slumped to the ground. Kerrick pushed her gross weight from him and climbed shakily to his feet.

“Well thrown, Herilak,” he said.

“Get down, move aside!” Herilak shouted in return, tearing his bow from his shoulder. Kerrick turned about and saw Enge climbing to her feet.

“Put your bow up,” Kerrick ordered. “All of you, lower your weapons. This one will not hurt me.”

There was a heavy splatter of raindrops, then more and more, then a downpour of rain. The threatening storm had finally broken. Too late to save the city of Alpèasak . Now it thundered down, a heavy tropical rain, hissing into clouds of steam when it struck into the smoldering ruins.

“You have brought us death, Kerrick,” Enge said, her voice loud enough to be heard above the hammering rain, sorrow in her every movement.

“No, Enge, you are wrong about that. I have brought life to my ustuzou, because without me creatures like this dead meat before me would have killed us all. Now she is dead and Alpèasak is dead. That uruketo will leave and the last of you will be gone. I will bring my ustuzou here and it will be our city. You will go back to Entoban* and you will stay there. They will remember with fear what happened here and will never come back. You will remind them about the death here. See that they never forget it. Tell them how they all burned and died. The Eistaa, her advisors, Vaintè…”