John Masters (3 page)

The Man looked down at the baby in his arm. He felt again the hurt in his chest and behind his eyes that was common but strange, for it hurt you, but you could not hurt it. He set the baby down, straightened its legs and arms, and told them they would put it away the next day. Then he picked up his spear, looked well at the point and the fastening of it, and started out, Lefthand and Feetborn's Son at his heels.

They went through the forest toward the Rock, keeping the running water on their right, until they came to the place where the water was shallow and animals crossed. There they looked at the marks in the mud and saw that the stag had crossed the day before. They waded through, shook themselves on the far side, and cast around until they again found the trail of the stag. The Man could not smell most animals, but male ibex and some cats that sprayed the leaves he could smell for hours after they had passed; and the stag in the time of rut, for days.

They loped along all the morning and all the middle of the day, the tracks becoming clearer in the damp ground and half-melted snow. The stag was moving north, and when the sun was high, they came out of the forest onto a bare hill, where the snow lay white on the ground. From here they saw the Rock small in the distance. They found the stags' droppings and a yellow stain in the snow. Now the tracks led west along the ridge but after an hour swung left again, down the hill and back into the forest. All afternoon the three ran with the sun in their right eyes, and every time they came to a break in the trees the Rock was closer. The rank scent grew stronger and the marks of the stag's passing more recent. They came to mud where the water was still running back into the new-made slots. The Man paused and turned his head this way and that. The wind was from behind, so the stag would smell them coming. They must get ahead of him.

Lefthand said that the stag was heading for the thick brush under the north of the Rock to make that his stand for the rutting. The Man thought so, too, and the three turned left and ran faster, though they were tired, for they had run from the rising to the setting of the sun and had eaten no food but a few mussels since the day before yesterday. After half an hour swinging around through the forest and five minutes crawling through the dense scrub closer under the wall of the Rock, they came to an animal walkway.

The Man was looking for a place to lie in wait when he heard loud calls and barks. He shrank down and looked, wondering, at Lefthand. Lefthand whispered, "Others. They are killing the stag."

The men crept through the tangle toward the sounds. The Man thought furiously, the Others again! There was no respite for them. Invisible in the undergrowth, he watched them. Four males—the same four who'd killed Red Girl yesterday. One big female was with them. The stag was dead at their feet, the body out of sight but the huge antlers towering up above the bushes. They had already drunk blood, for their faces were red-splashed.

Beside him Feetborn's Son pointed his spear and wanted to kill the Others, but the Man knew that he was tired, and they were many and strong. He shook his head. The big Other female hurried off alone and a long time later came back with more Others—four more females, one with a cub at her breast, and many bigger cubs. They gathered around the dead stag, and instead of tying it to a pole as the Man did, they all took hold and like ants with a fly pulled it through the bushes and onto the slope below the cliffs. When they were well out of sight, the Man said, "Go to the women. I will come later."

Lefthand hesitated, questioning, but Feetborn's Son feared the dark and was already running back through the forest. "Go." the Man said to Lefthand—"Go, and see that all the spears are sharp."

When Lefthand had disappeared in the trees, the Man went cautiously after the Others. The wind still blew gently from behind, but he did not think they would detect his scent while they were all so close to the dead stag. They were dragging it slowly along at the foot of the cliff, and he could hear them calling and grunting together as they moved. He stole behind in silence.

When they reached their cave, it was quite dark. The Man made a wide loop and came up to the cliff again the other side of it. There he was safely downwind; but he smelled ordure and thought he must be in the place where they dropped their dung. He moved cautiously closer to the cave and up the rocky slope. He could see a little way into the cave. There he stopped.

The Others were cutting up the stag, but their flints were not sharp. The big male was strong, with powerful teeth and neck, for he ripped at the meat like a leopard or bear.

They had built a great fire, and watching it made the Man feel colder, for it had begun to snow. There was no snow in the Others' cave. Soon they would be heavy with eating. Tomorrow they would be stronger from the food, but for tonight they would be heavy. His jaws were clamped tight against cold and hunger, but slowly he managed to open them and put out his tongue and let the snow melt on it. Then, moving stiffly at first, he crept back and down, circled around well below the cave, and headed for his own fire, in the forest.

Cryer heard him first and called, warning, but Lefthand was up at once, saying, "It is the Father. Hold, hold!"

He came in, and they were all on their feet, yawning and stretching. He told them how the Others were eating the stag, how heavy they would be, how warm and dry was their cave. Then he told them they would all go now to kill the Others.

Feetborn's Son growled, "Food!"

But Lefthand's brow wrinkled, and he said, "For tomorrow?"

The Man nodded. They would eat the Others, yes, but it was not for food that he meant to kill them, but because they were where he wanted to be, where the mussels were, where the water was, where the warm was.

He told them there were four male Others. Someone had to bring them out of the cave so that he and Lefthand and Feetborn's Son could kill them. He looked at the women. Cryer was the fastest runner of them. He motioned to her and Snowborn to come, and Red Boy as well. Then he looked to the spears, and felt that they were sharp. He wound a length of twined hide thong around his waist and was ready.

They left the fire, the three men with spears in front, then Cryer, Red Boy, and Snowborn last with a flint ax. They heard sounds of animals in the forest, and Feetborn's Son whimpered until the Man hit him; for they all knew, Feetborn's Son too, that no animal would attack them when they were so many unless it could not ran away.

They stopped by a bush near the Others' cave. They saw a small glow of fire on the roof of the cave but heard nothing. The Man muttered, "Some sleep." They went on toward the cave, but lower down the slope. When they were directly below the cave, the Man stopped. He told Cryer and Red Boy to stay there until they heard an owl call. Then they must walk up toward the cave until the Others ran out at them. Cryer whispered, "Yes," and Red Boy's eyes glowed in the hazy dark.

The Man led the rest—Lefthand, Feetborn's Son, and Snowborn—very carefully up the slope. The moon was making a little, soft, blurred light, and snow and sand and bush and rock all looked alike. He judged the distance as he climbed. When the Others saw or heard Cryer and Red Boy, some would run out at them, and some would not. He must trap those who ran out far enough from the cave so that those who stayed inside could not help them until too late. But he must not be too far. Above all, he must not be heard.

He came to a place he had noticed earlier, a stone's throw below the cave. There was a little cliff, too high to jump down. The Others would run down the gully the far side of it. He went in under the little cliff and looked up. He could not see the mouth of the cave, so a watcher there could not see him.

He brought the rest close, unwound the long thong from his waist, and gave it to the young men. He showed them where to crouch, the thong lying along the ground between them. He did not have to tell Snowborn where to go, for she knew that the woman's task was to kill any wounded or fallen animal.

Now he was ready. He put his cupped hands over his nose and mouth and made the owl's call, quavering slow, twice. Then he picked up his spear and stood, tautly strung, pressed against the rock.

Cryer and Red Boy would be starting up the slope. When the Others heard them, would they ask themselves why they were coming? They would be too heavy and sleepy to wonder. Small stones rolled away under someone's feet, and then he heard Red Boy's breathing. A moment later there was a tiny movement above. An Other had heard it, too.

And in that instant the Man saw, six inches from his right foot, a crouched bird. His heart nearly stopped, for if it flew up now ... The Others would be creeping to the cave mouth ... the bird did not move ... they would be looking down, gathering ... the bird moved its head, no more. Another five steps and it would not matter: four, three, two ... Cryer and Red Boy were level. The Others meant to let them reach the cave itself and kill them there.

He muttered, "Look up. See. Scream. Run."

As he spoke, Cryer obeyed: stopped—looked up—then she really saw them crouched in the cave mouth above, for her mouth opened in a rising shriek, and she turned and hurtled down the slope, Red Boy beside her. The bird shot up drumming from the Man's foot with a loud squawk. Above there was a bellow and the pad of running feet. Two young males crashed past down the gully, and the Man let them go. A moment later the big male came, running at full speed, and the Man cried, "Now!" His young men jerked up the thong; and the Other tripped over it and went flying head first far down the slope. As he landed, Snowborn crashed her ax into his head. By then the three men were racing after the young Others. Below, Cryer and Red Boy turned, snarling in the moonglow. The others slowed and drew back their spear arms. Neither looked around as Feetborn's Son and Lefthand struck, hurling their spears between their shoulder blades from a few feet away. The Others fell, coughing, and the men pounced. "Kill, kill, quick!" the Man cried. He stabbed once, pulled his spear free, and started back up the slope, all the rest with him. There was only one more male Other, the twisted one.

The six of them reached the cave mouth together, all armed now. The old female was there, keening and screaming, the big female behind, and many cubs, all staring, snarling, backing up into the darkness. Where was the bent one, the last male?

The Man saw him on the left. He pushed Snowborn and said, "Kill the big female!" Snowborn granted and ran forward, her ax held high, the Man close behind her. The big female stabbed out at her, piercing her shoulder, but the Man, leaning over Snowborn's bent body, passed his spear through the female's throat. Then he turned and ran at the twisted male. He was waiting, crouched, bent. As the Man feinted a thrust, he too feinted, and as the Man struck, he stabbed upward with his short spear at the Man's belly. The Man felt a burning pain under the ribs but laughed aloud, for the spear was blunt, and it had not entered his bowels. As he stabbed down at the exposed back, Snowborn hit the Other on the ear with her ax, and he fell. The Man thrust his spear into his throat, waited while the jerking stopped, then turned around.

Now all were running about, screaming. In the cave mouth Lefthand and Feetborn's Son struck regularly so that none passed, and beside them Cryer and Red Boy stabbed those who fell. The female with a cub at breast rushed suddenly out of the depths of the cave and brushed past the Man, taking him by surprise. He grabbed at her but missed. The men at the cave mouth were both engaged, and the screaming female ran past them and out into the snow.

Now they searched the cave and found a female hiding behind a pillar, and several cubs, and killed them all. The saliva began to pour from the Man's mouth, for it was almost done now. There was only the old female left, crawling by the entrance, and her Cryer killed and took a big tooth that was hung around her neck and put it around her own.

The Man looked at the bodies and the blood and brains and scattered ordure, and he smelled the pieces of the stag that were still roasting by the fire and raised his face and cried out in triumph, again and again. Feetborn's Son and Red Boy sang with him; of the males only Lefthand did not sing but knelt looking wonderingly into the open eyes of a dead female cub.

The Man told Lefthand and Cryer to go and bring the rest to the cave at once. Then he walked slowly about, chewing a piece of deer flesh. Feetborn's Son began to saw off the head of the big female. Red Boy was stuffing deer meat into his mouth with both hands. Snowborn's shoulder had nearly stopped bleeding. The Man looked curiously at the chips of flint in one corner. The twisted male had had a flint-head spear, but it was blunt. The young males only had hardened wood spears. These flints were not sharp. He picked one up and made a scratch on the cave wall, then another and another. Now he had made the mark of a bird, like the redlegged bird that had stayed silent by his feet even at the owl call. They were fat and good to eat and easy to kill, those birds, but none of his should ever eat one again, except as a blessing, for now it was his brother.

Snowborn had set the big female's head in the coals, and the smell of roasting brains rekindled his hunger. Soon Lefthand and Cryer came back with the rest, Cryer carrying her dead baby. They all stood close, and the Man put a piece of flesh into the baby's mouth, then carried it back far into the cave and pushed it into a high crevice, where no animal could reach it. Cryer wept a little, for her breasts still hurt, but one of the boys drank milk from her, and then the Man told them of the bird, his brother, and all began to talk excitedly.

The Man looked about him and began to smile. He jumped up and down and grabbed Snowborn and Feetborn together, one arm about each, and danced with them, twirling round and round around the fire, shouting at the top of his voice.

The Woman crouched by a bush far from the cave, under the steepest cliff of the Rock, where the sun never shone. It had begun to snow, and her baby was cold. She had fallen in her flight, landing on top of it, and it had not cried or moved or sucked since. Her throat itched to wail, but she dared not. Bent Brother she had seen killed, but where was the Father? The young men? Was there no one? She began to whimper softly, uncontrollably.