by J. H. Rosny
They went forward in the hope of discovering a height from which they could scan the horizon. Towards mid-day, during the hour of rest, a woman who had wandered towards the east called the others. There was no need for explanations: they all recognized the traces of a fire.
"The Men-of-the-Fire!” said Aoun.
The women displayed great emotion. The one who was in command, Ouchr by name, turned towards Aoun with angry gestures: he understood that the Chellians were his companions’ enemies. Not only had they been decimated by them, but no doubt the Chellians had also destroyed the male horde which was allied to the women, as it had not reappeared since the autumn.
The camp had been used several days before; there was no scent left to guide them. They took some time to assure themselves that it did not imply a numerous band; there was nothing to shew that Zouhr was with them. . . . Meanwhile, thanks to some slight indications, Aoun and the women were able to organize the pursuit. Little by little the trail became clearer: it was all the easier to follow because the Chellians were moving in an almost straight line towards the North. Twice the ashes of a fire shewed that their presence had been recent.
On the third morning, a young woman who walked at the head of their band turned round with an exclamation. When Aoun came up with her he saw the print of many footsteps in the light soil: he trembled with joy when he recognized the trace of Zouhr’s. Indeed the pursuit was becoming easy: the soil revealed emanations, a proof that they were gaining ground. That night they prolonged their march, although the moon had not yet risen, for two of the women were nyctalopic, although to a less degree than the Lemurians. Their way was barred by a range of hills. They climbed half way up the highest of these, and Aoun lighted a fire in a dell, so that it might be invisible from a distance. The enemy's proximity demanded ever increasing prudence.
Aoun had killed a swamp-deer, and the women were busy roasting its quarters. The safety of their shelter, abundance of food, and the brilliant fire-light, raised the spirits of the little horde. It was one of those happy interludes when human beings forget the cruel law of life and the snares of the world. Even the Oulhamr would have been blissfully happy had it not been for Zouhr’s absence. Djeha of the fine eyes sat by him, and he thought vaguely that perhaps Ouchr, the woman chief, would give her to him in marriage. The rugged soul of the young Oulhamr was full of secret tenderness. When Djeha was near him he felt a dread which made his heart beat quicker: he wanted to be as gentle to his companion as Naoh was to Gammla.
When the children and those of the travellers who were most tired had fallen asleep after the evening meal, Aoun set out to climb the hill. Ouchr and Dejha rose to accompany him, as well as several of the other women warriors. It was not a difficult ascent, and they soon reached the crest of the hill. They had to go through some brushwood before they could see the other side. A long plain lay stretched out under the stars, and a lake shimmered almost at the foot of the slope.
At the northern end, but on the further shore, they saw the light of flames. Aoun’s whole attention was concentrated on them. The fire lay about four or five thousand ells distant in a straight line, but they would have to go round by the shore of the lake and perhaps avoid some obstacles.
The wind blew from the South. They would therefore be able to approach the camp without being discovered. . . . They must get there before the moon rose, and only Aoun was swift enough to accomplish this.
He looked earnestly at the fire and the figures, sometimes purple and sometimes black, which hovered round it. There were five of them: the son of Urus could distinctly see Zouhr seated by the side of the lake, and a seventh man lying on the ground.
Then he said to Ouchr, “Aoun will go to the Men-of-the-Fire and demand Zouhr’s freedom . . .”
Ouchr understood and replied, "They will not give up the prisoner. . .
The Oulhamr continued, "They took him away as a hostage, they were afraid of Aoun.”
“They will dread him still more when they no longer have a hostage.”
The wanderer remained undecided for a moment. He could see no other way by which he could deliver Zouhr than by cunning, violence or gentleness: in any case he must approach the Chellians’ camp.
“Aoun must deliver his companion,” he said darkly.
Ouchr agreed with him. She had nothing to say in reply. He added, “Aoun must go towards the fire!”
“Ouchr and the Wolf-Women will follow him!”
Aoun, after looking long at the plain, acquiesced, "The son of Urus will wait down there for the women to come,” he said. "He will be alone, but the Men-of-the-Fire cannot reach him by running, and he can fight them at a distance!”
Ouchr commanded her youngest warrior to fetch reinforcements. The Oulhamr was already descending towards the plain. It was an easy slope, almost level, without crevices and covered with grass. When he reached the plain, the wind was blowing the odours towards the North and the he of the ground favoured his enterprise. The moon was still hidden; he soon found himself on the same bank as the Chellians, less than a thousand ells from the camp. . . .
Clumps of trees, high grasses and low hillocks allowed him to continue his way unobserved for four hundred ells, but then he had to face open ground. Nothing could further conceal his movements from the piercing eyes of the enemy. A prey to anxiety, not for himself but for Zouhr, he remained motionless among the vegetation. Would the Chellians kill the Wah if Aoun appeared suddenly, or would they on the contrary spare his life, the better to preserve their own? If they offered them his alliance would they mock him?
He waited for a long time. The moon rose, red and misty, from the depths of the savannah. Five Chellians had lain down on the ground. The sixth was watching, sometimes standing up to listen, his mobile eyes and nostrils quivering. Zouhr was awake also, at the other end of the little camp, near the fire. The Chellian took hardly any notice of the prisoner, who was neither strong nor active, and therefore could not think of flight.
A project haunted Aoun’s imagination. He knew that Zouhr, so slow in running, was, like all the Men-without-Shoulders, a clever swimmer. He could outstrip the most active Oulhamr in a river or a pool; he could dive like a crocodile and remain a long time under water. If he leapt into the lake, he could reach the other shore, which at that point was not very far off. . . . Aoun would lure the enemy on to fight. It would, however, be necessary that the Wah should see him and understand his signal; the least alarm would make his rescue impossible.
Now the watcher looked chiefly towards the north, because of the wind. He turned his face every moment towards the bush which concealed the son of Urus. The moon rose ever clearer, brighter and more steely. The wanderer’s breast was bursting with the fury of his impatience, and he was almost in despair, when a loud roar reverberated from the direction of the south, and the form of a lion was outlined on a hillock. The watcher gave a great start; the Chellians stood up round the fire and turned their faces towards the carnivore . . .
Zouhr, almost motionless, was peering in all directions, full of the desire for rescue, which was rendered keener by all the vicissitudes he had gone through.
Suddenly Aoun showed himself, his hand stretched out towards the lake . . . The moment was propitious: a distance of thirty ells separated the Wah from the nearest of his captors. They were thinking only of the great brute.
The lake was twenty steps from Zouhr. If he started promptly he could reach it before any of the Chellians.
Zouhr had seen the outstretched hand. Uncertain and puzzled, he walked furtively towards the bush. Aoun again pointed towards the lake; the Wah understood and began to walk carelessly in the direction of the water, then his step changed and with great bounds he leapt towards the bank.
Just as he flung himself into the water one of the Chellians turned round. He was more surprised than anxious, he only gave the alarm when he saw the Wah striking out for the opposite shore. Two warriors gave chase, and one of them tried to catch Zouhr by swimming after h
im. When he found he could not overtake him, he returned to the bank and began to fling stones at him. Zouhr, having dived, was invisible.
The lion’s proximity paralyzed the resolution of the hand. One man alone was sent in pursuit. He thought that by running round the end of the lake he must inevitably meet Zouhr, who would be an easy capture, for he was unarmed, slow and weak of muscle.
Aoun, seeing the warrior come towards him, laughed silently and withdrew. He remained invisible for a little while, then an open bit of ground revealed him to the enemy. He waited with his spear held high in air. . . .
The Chellian was one of those who had fought in the stormy night. He recognized with great alarm the big wanderer who had killed his chief, and with a loud outcry he beat a retreat.
Aoun, who was anxious about Zouhr’s fate, did not attempt to pursue him. He directed his steps to the end of the lake and went round the point. The Wah had not yet landed; he could see him swimming like a reptile with writhing movements. When he reached him the son of Urus lifted him up with joyful murmurs, and they remained looking at each other, dumb with the joy of his deliverance.
At last the Oulhamr shouted his triumph, "Aoun and Zouhr mock the Men-of-the-Fire.”
Meanwhile the lion had disappeared. For a moment the Chellians continued to watch the hillock, then, at a sign from their chief, they directed their steps towards the north.
“They are more active than Zouhr,” said the Wah sadly, “their chief is as strong as a leopard!”
“Aoun does not fear him . . . and we have allies.”
He dragged his companion along with him, and when the pursuers arrived at the turn of the shore a clamour arose from the hill. Ouchr and seven other Wolf-Women had appeared; the Chellians, discouraged, gave up the pursuit.
The women came down to Aoun, and Ouchr said:
“If we do not kill the Dhole-Men they will return with their horde.”
The Oulhamr understood her after she had repeated her gestures and phrases.
“Have they spoken of their horde?” he asked the Wah.
"It is two long days’ marches from here,” Zouhr replied, and after gazing at the women he added, “If we attack them they will kill many of the women, and some of them will doubtless succeed in escaping.”
Aoun’s blood boiled, but the fear of again losing his companion prevailed, and he also had a benevolent feeling towards the Chellians because they had not killed their captive.
THE FLIGHT FROM THE CHELLIANS
Aoun, Zouhr and the women were fleeing. They had been chased by the Chellian horde for more than a week. A woman had noticed them first, and Aoun, stationed on a high rock, had counted thirty men. The fugitives’ march was delayed by the Wah, who could not go fast, but Ouchr knew of winding ways through the forest where Zouhr, aided by the marshy land, invented stratagems to lead the enemy astray. Every time they came across a shallow water course, they walked up or down its bed for some distance; on several occasions Ouchr and Aoun set fire to the dried grasses through which they had passed. So the Chellians lost their trail: but they were numerous and obstinate, and dispersed in different directions to find it again. On the eighth day, the band crossed the torrent on the bank of which Aoun had left the Lemurians. The Oulhamr would have liked to go up stream, but Ouchr pointed out a safer way, and they turned again towards the south of the plateau.
The day of the new moon came, and they had not seen the
Chellians. Their halt that day was a happy one. It was in the jungle, for gradually the fugitives had neared the plain and were approaching the river. Enormous bamboos surrounded the open space. There was. still daylight, and men and women were busy cutting wood for the fire, and constructing a refuge with thorns, creepers and saplings. A red glow succeeded the amber light; a fine mist rose towards the clouds; wind murmured in the luxuriant vegetation and Aoun’s soul was full of solemn yet gentle feeling. The same weakness that caused him to spare the life of his vanquished foes, made him tender in his manner towards Djeha of the supple shoulders. His strength became feeble in the presence of her magnificent hair, and the wonderful light in her eyes; her timidity was more intoxicating to him than victory. Fleeting dreams came to him, which he did not understand. Sometimes, when he reflected that Ouchr’s consent was necessary, and the possibility of a refusal crossed his mind, the violent spirit of the Oulhamr possessed him and shook his whole being. In reality, however, he was prepared to submit himself to the customs of these women, who shared his perils.
When the stars came out above the bamboos, he went to the woman-chief, who was finishing her repast, and asked, "Will Ouchr give me Djeha to wife?"
When Ouchr understood she was undecided. The laws of her race were very old, and by dint of repetition they had acquired strength and preciseness. The women of the horde were not to unite themselves with the Chellians or the Lemurians. Disaster, however, had engendered profound uncertainty. Ouchr did not know if any men of their race still existed. And Aoun was her ally.
She answered, "This is what we will do: first we must escape from our enemies; then Ouchr will strike Djeha on the chest, and she shall be Aoun’s wife.”
The Oulhamr only understood a part of this reply; fervent joy took possession of his heart. He did not notice that Ouchr was sad; she did not understand why he preferred this lithe young girl to the woman chief, of the muscular hands and heavy jaws . . .
They continued their flight next day, and the day after that They were now quite close to the river. A line of rocks appeared, like those where the giant feline had his lair. There was nothing to indicate the presence of their enemies; even Ouchr began to think they had given up the pursuit. In order to make quite sure, she clambered up a high rock with Aoun and Zouhr, from which a good view of the surrounding country could be obtained. When they reached the top they saw the river winding round a bend between two steppes, then, still further off, some human beings on the edge of a jungle, who were advancing towards them.
“The Dhole-Men!” said Ouchr.
Aoun made sure that their number had not diminished, and said, “They are not following our trail.”
“They will find it,” said Ouchr.
Zouhr added reflectively, "We must cross the river!”
It was an attempt in which even the strongest swimmers could hardly hope to succeed; crocodiles abounded in the mud, on the islands and about the promontories. The Wahs, however, possessed the art of crossing water by means of big branches and split trunks of trees, bound together by creepers and withies. Zouhr led the troop down to the bank of the river, where black poplar trees abounded. Two trunks stranded in a cove made their work more rapid. Before midday the raft was ready, but the enemy was near. They could see their advance-guard at the turn of the river, three or four thousand paces off. When their improvised raft left the bank, the Chellians set up a great clamour. Aoun answered them with his war cry, and the women howled like wolves. The fugitives drifted obliquely from the shore. As they were being taken down stream they got closer to their enemies, and the two bands found themselves at last face to face. They were separated by a distance of only about two hundred ells. The Chellians were assembled on a promontory, to the number of twenty-nine, all thick-set, with dhole-like jaws and muscular hands. Their round eyes were lit up by a violently ferocious light. Several of them made as if they would throw themselves into the water and swim after the raft, but a python and several crocodiles appeared among the lotus leaves.
Meanwhile Aoun and Zouhr and the women, with the aid of branches, changed the course of the raft. It passed between two islands, spun round, returned for a moment towards the bank where the Dhole-Men were standing, then took a south-westerly course . . . Ultimately it went aground on the opposite bank, and the women shouted insults at the Chellians.
The band plunged into the jungle until it was stopped by a tributary of the river. It was a shallow water course, the bed of which was easy to walk in. But before they started Zouhr made them cut into pieces the ski
n of a swamp deer, and he explained that when they left the river bed, each of them was to wrap up his feet in the bits of skin. They disembarked on a rocky cape and having all of them wrapped up their feet, they splashed water over their halting place.
"Zouhr, is the most cunning among men!” exclaimed the Oulhamr . . . “The Dhole-Men will think a herd has passed here!”
The Chellians had however so often recovered the trail that the fugitives thought it wise to walk on until nightfall without stopping.
PART V
IN THE DEFILE
The ground became marshy. They had to plunge through mud, or toil along the bank. For two days the fugitives advanced no faster than creeping beasts. Then the river was locked between steep banks, and an enormous wall of schist barred their way. It was three thousand ells long, and six hundred high; to the West it rose out of the river, and on the East it was rooted in an impenetrable marsh. There was only one outlet, a narrow defile which was hollowed out at the height of two hundred ells, and access to which was gained by slopes interspersed with reddish masses of rock. Aoun, who was walking at the rear of the band, came to the entry of the pass, and stopped to consider the place. Meanwhile Ouchr had gone on. She soon returned and announced, “The marsh spreads out on the other side of the rock.”
"We must cross the river again,” said the Wah, who had followed the woman chief. “There are trees, we can make a raft.”
Aoun gave an exclamation, and stretched out his hand. Men had appeared below them, between two pools. There were seven in number, and their appearance was too characteristic to leave any doubt as to their identity.
"The Dhole-Men!” cried Ouchr.
Their number continued to increase. Aoun’s chest swelled. He sniffed the feverish breath of the marsh waters and gazed at the abyss.
"Long before the raft is built,” he said, “the Dhole-Men will be upon us!”
