West of Eden

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Es mo tarril drepastar, er em so man drija.

If my brother is wounded, it is I who will bleed.

The evening sky was as red as fire behind the black outlines of the trees, while over the ocean the first bright stars had appeared, tharms of the strongest warriors. But the four men on the beach faced away from the stars, stared instead at the dark wall of the jungle before them, for they feared the unseen beasts that were hidden there. They crouched with their backs against the wooden side of their boat, taking some strength from its solidity. It had brought them here and would, they fervently hoped, take them safely away again from this place of many dangers.

Ortnar could no longer keep silent, and he spoke the thoughts of all of them.

“There could be murgu in there, watching us right now, ready to attack. We should not be here.” He chewed his lip with apprehension, his imagination filling the darkness with unseen dangers: he was a lean and nervous man much given to worry.

“Herilak told us to wait here,” Tellges said, and this decided the matter for him. He did not fear what he could not see, and much preferred taking orders to giving them. He would wait patiently until the sammadar returned.

“But he has been gone all day. He could be dead, eaten by the murgu.” Ortnar was possessed by the terror of his thoughts. “We should never have come this far south. We passed herds of deer, we could have hunted…”

“We hunt when we return,” Serriak said, catching some of Ortnar’s fear. “Now shut your mouth.”

“Why? Because I speak the truth, that is why. Because Herilak seeks revenge we will all die. We should not have come…”

“Be silent,” Henver said. “There is something moving along the beach.”

They crouched, spears ready, lowering them with relief only when Herilak’s silhouette was clear against the sky as he climbed the dune.

“You have been gone all day,” Ortnar said when the sammadar came close, the reproof clear in his voice. Herilak chose not to hear it, standing before them and leaning wearily on his spear.

“Bring me water,” he ordered, “then listen to what I have to say.” He drank thirstily, then dropped the gourd onto the sand and lowered himself beside it. When he spoke his voice was low and distant as he talked first of things they knew.

“The sammad of Amahast is no more, all killed, you saw their bones upon the shore. You see Amahast’s skymetal knife now around my neck and know that I took it from among his bones. What I found on that beach, among those skeletons, led me to believe that death came to them from the south. I chose you to come with me to find that death. I chose you because you are strong hunters. We have come south for many days, stopping only to kill for meat to fill our bellies. We have come south to the country of the murgu and have seen many of them. But yesterday we found something different. We found trails that were not animal trails. I followed those trails to wherie they led. I will tell you now what I found.”

There was something in Herilak’s voice that silenced them all, even Ortnar. The last light of sunset washed Herilak’s face as red as blood, a blood-mask that belonged with the anger that drew his lips back from his teeth, clenched his jaw so tightly that it now muffled his words.

“I have found the killers. Those paths were made by murgu, of a kind I have never seen before. There is a great nest of them out there where they teem like ants in an anthill. But they are not ants — or Tanu — although they stand erect on legs like Tanu. They are not any of the beasts we know, but are murgu of a new kind. They move over the water on the backs of creatures like boats and their nest is guarded by a wall of thorns. And they have weapons.”

“What are you saying?” There was terror in Ortnar’s voice, for Herilak spoke of nightmares come alive. “That there are murgu that walk like Tanu? Who have spears and bows and kill like Tanu? We must leave, now, quickly, before they reach us…”

“Silence.” There was grim command in Herilak’s voice. “You are a hunter, not a woman. If you show your fear the animals you hunt will know it and will laugh at you and all of your arrows will miss their mark.”

Even Ortnar knew that this was true and he bit his lips shut to assure his silence. If you spoke of deer, no matter how distant they were, they would hear you and flee. Worse still, if a hunter felt fear all the animals would know it and his stone points would never strike true. Ortnar felt the others turn away from him and knew that he had spoken too quickly without thinking. He took refuge in silence.

“These murgu are like Tanu but not like Tanu. I watched all day from hiding and saw them do many things that I did not understand. But I did see something that is a weapon, although it is not a spear or a bow. It is like a stick. A marag pointed one and there was a noise and I saw a deer fall dead.” His voice rose, challenging them to disbelieve him, but none spoke. “This is what I saw, although I ca

It was Tellges who broke the long silence that followed. He believed what Herilak had said, but he could not understand it all.

“These murgu that kill with noise-sticks. You can be sure they killed the sammad?”

“I can be sure.” Herilak’s voice was grim again with the portent of the words that he spoke. “I can be sure because they know of the Tanu. I can be sure of this because I saw them capture a boy of the Tanu. They know of us. We now know of them.”

“What do we do, Herilak?” Serriak asked.

“We return to the sammad because there are just the five of us against so many murgu that they ca

“And how will this be done?” Ortnar asked, and there was still a tremor of fear in his voice.

“I will think before I sleep and you will be told in the morning. Now we will all sleep because there is much to be done tomorrow.”

Herilak had not spoken the entire truth. He had already decided what must be done, but he did not want them awake and worrying about it all night. Particularly Ortnar. He was one of the best hunters — but he thought about things too much before they happened. Sometimes it was better not to think but simply to act.

At dawn they were awake and Herilak ordered all of their possessions packed into their boat, ready for launching.

“When we return,” he said, “we will want to leave without delay. It may be that we will be followed.” He smiled at the sudden apprehension on their faces. “It is only a small chance. If we do our work as hunters there will be no chance at all. Here is what we must do. We are going to find a small group of murgu who are not close to the others. Yesterday I saw groups like this. They were doing something. We will find them and then, unseen, we will slay them. All of them, in silence. If my brother is hurt, I will bleed. If my brother is killed, then death is mine to return. Now we leave.”

Herilak looked at their grim and silent faces, could see them weighing his words. What he had proposed was something new and dangerous. But they would be hunting and killing murgu, murgu that had attacked and slaughtered the entire sammad of Amahast. Had butchered the women and children, the mastodons, everything. When they thought of this the anger grew within them and they were ready. Herilak nodded and took up his weapons and they took up theirs as well and followed him into the jungle.

It was dark under the trees where the dense foliage blocked out the sun, but the trail was well-trodden and easy to follow. They went in silence, bright birds calling out above them in the canopy of the forest. More than once they stopped, spears ready, as something heavy and unseen crashed in the undergrowth nearby.