Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country (16 page)

The marital quarrel that ensued was almost violent, but it did not last long. Siraka-Finaka finally declared that if her husband were fool enough to go, she would go along too! She was not joking. All of Chul's protestations and growling threats could not change her mind. At last Chul agreed, providing that she came secretly and kept her tongue from wagging. He knew he would be the butt of every man's guffaw if they discovered that he had been accompanied by his woman. Chul was more concerned about disgrace than the very real possibility that none of them would return alive. But they went. Their children were left in the care of Zan-Gah's parents and the three quietly departed, Siraka-Finaka struggling bravely to keep up with her plump little legs.

When they approached the camp of the Noi, they were immediately taken captive, but this time the presence of a woman cast their sudden arrival in a different light. It was apparent that these visitors intended no harm, especially in broad daylight. Zan's former visit had been at night and seemed suspicious. Despite Chul's great size he could do no harm, surrounded as he was by Noi warriors. His wife's short figure was an object of mirth, and the very presence of a woman on such a mission seemed ridiculous—but
not threatening. Siraka-Finaka's attendance probably saved their lives.

The party of three was conducted to a circle of elders. These were once handsome but now craggy men who resembled nothing so much as the elders of the Ba-Coro. Chul began in his deep bass and Zan-Gah interpreted. Siraka-Finaka knew enough to hold her peace. “Many have died,” Chul said, “and many more have been wounded. We did not wish to waste lives in needless battle, but it happened. It was the fault of a small group, which will be punished! They broke the peace, not we.”

Chul did not know how Dael's group could be “punished” but he said what he knew he had to say if there were to be any hope of a settlement. “Let there be no more fighting, but let each of us raise our families in peace. We give our promise that we will not attack you if you do not attack us.” Chul and Zan knew that their position lacked substance because it was the Ba-Coro who had violated the truce. But what more could they say?

There were murmurs among the Noi. Chul's offer actually was tempting to their diminished ranks. Yet it would not be accepted. Two men came forward and the youngest spoke out. He was a tall and goodly man, one of those who had asked for the tusks of Morda when he had been among the Ba-Coro. His aged father, a respected chieftain, stood behind him: “Why should we believe you?” the younger man said with some contempt in his voice. “Your wretches attacked sleeping men, and later came at us in force to kill and burn. We sent them on their way, and will do the same with the rest of you!” Several of the Noi huffed their assent.

“We had not provoked you, but you made war on us. Still we came to you with an offer of peace and you see what came of it! The latest fight cost us dear, but we have learned valuable lessons and are not afraid. We will not trust you again. You are not decent people. And we will not wait patiently for you to assault us, but beware our attack!” Again, loud grunts of the elders signaled assent and unity. “We burn our dead tomorrow. Come to the field of battle the day after and you will find us there. For now we release you as
honor
demands.” He stressed the word sarcastically, and even Siraka-Finaka understood the implication: The Noi had honor; the Ba-Coro had it not.

The older man, crowned with a headdress of bright, arching feathers, was obviously an elder of great prestige. “Make no mistake,” he added, coming forward with a clenched fist, his long, bending plumes trembling as he spoke. “You cannot frighten us.” He glanced at Zan-Gah. “If you have magic we have magic too. You will not destroy us. We will live!” His intense grimace, which deepened his wrinkles and showed his lower teeth, was that of one who had spent his life surviving bitter trials. “We are an ancient people, used to hardships and war.
We will live!”

Chul, Siraka-Finaka, and Zan-Gah returned to their camp, and Chul told the bad news: The war would continue. The drums began to sound again, clashing against each other over the peaceful surface of the lake. Every male prepared for the approaching confrontation. Still in Siraka-Finaka's mind there was a glimmer of hope. The Noi considered themselves decent and honorable. Who would have known?

 

 

 

 

That night great fires were reflected in the beautiful lake, visible from both sides; and all the next day the two peoples smelled each other's funeral pyres. Cremation was permitted in times of war when burial and the building of barrows would take too long. Ashes would be saved and monuments erected, but later, after the fight. There were several corpses to dispose of, but Morda's had a place of special honor, as did his two dead sons, whose mangled bodies were laid on either side of their father. The sons had been Dael's men and their heads were shaved, their limbs and torsos decorated with scar patterns. The surviving sons as well as Morda's brothers had grim expressions harboring thoughts of revenge in the coming battle, while Morda's daughters and his patient wife were melting in tears as a roaring fire reduced their loved ones to nothing.

Dael's sleep was troubled as usual. Among the phantoms that haunted his dreams, one in particular had lately gained ascendancy—so much so that Dael could almost depend upon its appearance. He avoided sleeping, knowing that the specter would come. It was Hurnoa who visited him—or rather her gray, disheveled
head, eyes glazed, dripping with blood, and haloed by an eerie light. Dael would toss and thrash, trying desperately to run but curiously unable to move. The head spoke in gravel tones, as Hurnoa had in life. Dael wished he could forget her hateful language but he clearly understood her words—although the sound of her voice seemed weirdly detached from her moving lips: “Why do you not run, Dael? Leave your people in peace. You are no longer one of them. Go to the fire-mountain and throw yourself in.” And in a moment he was there on the summit, flinging himself into the fiery heart. He woke up trembling and sweating, and there was Zan.

“Are you all right, Dael?” Zan asked. “What did you dream that disturbed you so? You are still shaking.”

“It is with anger then,” Dael replied, coming to himself. “I dreamed I had a spear in each hand and was slaying my enemies two at a time, and you were running away.”

“Dael,” Zan said, “this hatred is not good for you. Isn't it possible for you to put it aside?”

“Don't you hate anyone, Zan-
Gaahh
? Have you never hated someone with all your heart? Maybe you would if you had lived in a cage as I did for two years. If you had been submitted to indignities too shameful to mention, and been fed unspeakable things when you were fed at all. They are cannibals, you know, Zan. At least I think they are,” and he began to gag.

Zan put his arm around his brother, who shook to get it off, but Zan did not let go. “Dael, you must forget all that. You know yourself that some of them were not evil
people. Lissa-Na was one of them, and who was ever a better person?”

This time Dael did pull loose, wheeling violently and slapping his brother powerfully in the face with the back of his left hand as he turned. “I told you never to speak of her. If you ever mention her name to me in connection with
those
, I will slay you, I promise you. Then I will not have a twin.”

Zan was holding his face. Blood was flowing from his nose. He said nothing for a moment, looking at Dael as one might look at a pet that had just bitten him. “You surely will regret doing that,” he said at last. He was convinced that his brother would feel sorry for what he did.

Dael understood his words in another sense: “Do you threaten me, you dog? After the fight tomorrow, I will finish you. I will be looking for you. Now would be a good time for you to run away, coward.”

Zan left Dael's presence. It was more than he could deal with, and he was indeed running away.

Meanwhile Siraka-Finaka was going from one elder to another. She was convinced that the war need not resume, and said so to those who would listen. She also spoke to their wives, hoping that they might use their influence: “This is a conflict begun by Dael and his men without consulting the elders. Let them fight if they must, but I tell you the Noi can be reasoned with.” She talked at length to anyone she could corner, but had no success.

Two weeks of rainy weather prevented the intended battle, but no one supposed that it would not occur. By the time the sky cleared and the land was dry enough to walk on, Rydl had passed his climax of fever and had even risen, propped by a crutch and assisted by the dedicated young Sparrow. Siraka-Finaka, with the aid of other peace-loving women of the tribe, continued to urge delay and negotiation, but another challenge was brought by a Noi messenger and the word went out that the fight would resume the next day.

The morning began with thunder rumbling from afar, which early wakened both peoples and urged them on to war. A cloudless blue sky gave no sign of further bad weather, yet the ominous rumbling continued. The Ba-Coro appeared on the field at an early hour, but to their surprise the Noi were already there in formal array, occupying the higher center instead of the edge, and thus minimizing the distance that separated them from their enemies. Their objective was to diminish the space so that the Ba-Coro held less of an advantage, being within striking distance.

Both sides were ready to fight. Like a pair of poisonous snakes whose wavering heads are poised to strike each other with lightning speed, or two mighty stallions which, with hooves upraised, prepare to fight for a mate, the armies reared and clashed. Every man had a battle cry, and no spear or stone was flung without a screeching
“heeaughh!”
Deadly blows were struck on both sides, and within minutes the ground was littered with bodies of the
fallen. How many had to die before one side or the other of these stubborn combatants would yield or flee? What prize or victory were they fighting to achieve?

These questions found no answers, for something so unexpected happened in the midst and thick of the fight that it astounded and baffled both sides. The furious battle had hardly commenced when there was an explosion of noise louder than any warrior ever in his lifetime had heard. The astonishing sound reverberated and echoed off the granite cliffs, and rang in every ear. It was ten times louder than thunder, and accompanied by a blast of wind that caused the trees to bend and even break, their dead branches to drop with a crash, and their many-colored autumn leaves to shake down, leaving the limbs half bare. The swelling conflict abruptly ceased as both groups looked to the skies with terrified, questioning faces, unable to comprehend this message from their gods.

The Noi warriors were the first to run, and the Ba-Coro did not even think to pursue them. The Noi were unable to deal with unfamiliar things, even those far less formidable; while their opponents were themselves paralyzed with shock and indecision. Dael recognized the voice of his god—the thunder-fit of the fire-mountain—and more than any other he was frozen, stunned, and overwhelmed. His eyes bulged in their sockets and turned upward, and with a face distorted by a paroxysm of emotion he screamed and fell. Later, when the volcano had quieted down, ceasing for a time to void its fiery discharge, Dael's lifeless body was retrieved along with many others. The eruption, now spreading only flakes of
gray ashes, coated the dead, the surrounding country, and the once beautiful lake.

Zan, filled with grief, carried the body of his brother home. There were no wounds on it. Only Dael's face was pale and bloodless, his eyes sunken and dark. Apparently he had died a victim of his own tempestuous and harrowing passions. Everyone knew how deeply disturbed he was, nightly dreaming horrific sights, and burdened with emotions deadly even to the strongest man. Dael's vow to kill his twin brother, his own mother's son, had weighed on his secret soul, and above all, the recurrent vision of Hurnoa's bleeding head accused and overpowered him. In the fight Dael had hardly been in contact with reality, and the simultaneous, palpable presence of his two great obsessions brought him down to the ground. Between them, the Noi and the mountain of fire had torn his spirit in two.