by Inmon, Shawn
“Sanda-eh!” Alex yelled.
The three-year-old girl with the chubby cheeks and dancing brown eyes ran faster, waving her arms for balance, giggling loudly with each step.
Alex sprinted ahead, scooped her up in his right arm, and in one fluid motion, threw her into the air. She soared through the early-spring air, highlighted against the soft blue sky.
When gravity finally caught her and sent her plummeting into Alex’s arms, she didn’t even take time to breathe.
“Again, Dadda! Again!”
Alex did as she asked. He was mindful of what Senta-eh had asked of him and did his best to let their daughter try and fail on her own. But when it came time for playtime in the field, he let her have her way until he was exhausted. He always ran out of energy before she did.
Finally, Alex collapsed onto the ground with a sigh.
Sanda-eh climbed on his chest, leaped into the air, tucked her legs, and landed hard on his solar plexus. The air whooshed out of Alex’s lungs.
She stood on his chest, readying for another attack, but Alex put his hands under her arms and lifted her to the grass. She took that as an invitation to run, and run she did.
“Monda-ak, I’m worn out. It’s your turn.”
Monda-ak was older, but showed no signs of losing his puppy-like energy. He woofed his agreement, then gobbled up the ground between himself and Sanda-eh. He loped past her, then knelt down on his front two legs and growled menacingly.
Sanda-eh laughed again, ran at him, and swatted him in the face. Monda-ak closed his eyes and panted a smile to her. The two of them wrestled long enough—the tiny girl nearly getting lost in the wide expanse of dark fur—that Alex was able to find his second wind. Sometimes he thought being a single parent—or, co-parenting with a giant dog—was harder on his body than fighting battles had been.
Alex Hawk had been in Kragdon-ah for ten years. There were early flecks of grey growing into his hair. His body—especially his twice-wounded left arm and shoulder—was worse for the wear. He had what felt like a thousand small war wounds, and that wasn’t counting the dozens of scars from the wasta-ta stings and the zisla-ta bites.
Alex had stopped marking the anniversary of the day he had arrived in Kragdon-ah. There was no sense to him to mark something that only served as a painful reminder. A reminder that he had made one impetuous decision that had taken his daughter Amy away from him forever.
Thus, it was unmarked by Alex that the day passed when he had spent ten years in Kragdon-ah.
When he had sat face to face with Douglas Winterborne seven years earlier, Winterborne had accused him of going native.
That description was more apt than ever. Alex’s hair was so long that when he pulled it back and tied it with a leather thong, it nearly reached his buttocks. He used the sharp knife he had brought back from his journey to Lasta-ah to trim his beard from time to time, but mostly it was long and unkempt as well. In the heat of the summer, he could be found in a skimpy loincloth and bare feet more often than not. By the summer solstice each year, he was so deeply tanned that he could almost blend in with his tribemates if only he had been a little taller.
As much or more as the exterior evidence, though, was what was in his mind and his heart. He thought almost exclusively in the language of the Winten-ah and was afraid that his English might be getting a little rusty. He remedied that by teaching Sanda-eh. She might have been the only tri-lingual person within a hundred miles, effortlessly fluent in English, Winten-ah, and the universal language of Kragdon-ah.
The Special Forces member who had once been trained in high-tech weaponry was nearly gone. When he thought about weapons at all, it was spears, bow and arrows, knives, and his trusty axe that nearly always dangled from his right wrist. He hadn’t thought of a television program or movie in years.
He was well on his way to becoming a true son of Kragdon-ah.
He mourned Senta-eh and talked to her in his head as he fell asleep and again first thing in the morning. Like the growing number of single fathers in the tribe, Alex never lacked for help in raising Sanda-eh. Lanta-eh was her most constant companion when Alex was out hunting, but in a time when babies were rare, volunteers were easy to find.
They had once again managed to trade for two milk beasts, so nursing mothers were not absolutely necessary, but the children of Winten-ah were moved to solid food earlier than they normally would have been.
In the three and a half years since the night of the zisla-tas, the land around Winten-ah had made progress back toward normalcy. You could no longer sit on top of the cliffside and see through the forest to the plains of the ronit-ta. The bugs were the first to return, as they had either burrowed underground to safety or laid their eggs there. The birds were next, building their nests in the bare branches of the trees until new limbs and leaves sprouted to offer better protection.
Finally, the animals returned.
Alex, Sanda-eh, and Monda-ak continued to live in the little house against the cliffside. It wasn’t unusual for Alex to wake in the morning and find that Sanda-eh had crawled out of bed with him and curled up with Monda-ak during the night. No child ever slept more safely.
The loss of every mother to childbirth put a pall over the entire community and region. Beyond that, life continued much as it had for many generations in Kragdon-ah.
Alex worried about Draka-ak the Younger, wondering if and when he would send another army to Winten-ah to exact his revenge. Alex expected him constantly for the first year, but when he did not appear, he considered the possibility that Lasta-ah had also been hit by the zisla-ta. That was enough to put petty concerns like revenge on the back burner for a long time.
Or so Alex hoped.
He was tired of war, of schemes. Not just of having to fight at a constant disadvantage—an army of three against an entire city—but of fighting in general.
Alex the warrior had lost his taste for conflict.
At least once a year, Alex made a visit to see Harta-ak and Versa-eh in the new home they were building.
Each time he did, he more fully realized why he had regretted letting Klipta-ak leave Winten-ah to join them.
Klipta-ak had gone from a prisoner of war with a death sentence hanging over his head to being the head builder in a brand-new community and he had made the most of his new life and opportunity.
Their village, Danta-ah was somewhat limited in size by the fact that it all had to be completely built inside the caldera. But, knowing that, Klipta-ak, with input from Harta-ak and Versa-eh, had completely planned their village out before they started their first building.
The first time Alex had visited them, there were only a few temporary huts and longhouses to shelter them, but Klipta-ak had proudly shown off what he had accomplished. It was a scale model of the caldera, with their city also built to scale inside it. He built the caldera itself out of clay, but then installed tiny factories to process the danta, houses for everyone, roads, and even a modest town hall that they could expand if needed.
It was crudely done by twenty-first century standards, but well beyond anything Alex had seen since arriving in Kragdon-ah.
Now, years later, the scale model had come to life.
As was always the case, defense against animals and attacking humans had been the first priority. The inverted dome was their first line of defense. There was only a single entrance in and out, and Klipta-ak had designed and built a sturdy, tall fence with a single heavy gate in the middle.
Then, he added three guard posts around the edge of the caldera that gave them three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of anyone who might be approaching.
They logged the area closest to the caldera for their lumber, which also meant that there was no coverage for man or beast to sneak up on them.
Klipta-ak had built a beautiful home for Harta-ak and Versa-eh. It very much reminded Alex of the lovely wooden buildings he had burned to the ground in Lasta-ah. It was an unusual design for the area, as it didn’t feature a single sleeping
area, but was instead divided up into bedrooms. Alex knew that more than anything, they wanted to fill those rooms with children. To be the center of a growing bustling family.
By now, though, everyone knew the absolute truth. Childbirth equaled death. Not sometime. Not most of the time. Every time.
Unless something changed in the next few decades, mankind would be fini.
Sitting on the grass with his daughter and Monda-ak, his best friend, Alex still felt a little lonely. So many of the people he knew and loved the best were gone.
He saw Reggie—who had settled permanently into Winten-ah, and Reggie’s daughter, Tinka-eh heading toward them.
Tinka-eh was six years old now, a tall child who had left all her toddler chubbiness behind. She walked beside Reggie. Like an adult, not a baby. When she saw Sanda-eh, all pretense of adulthood left her, and she ran and jumped on Monda-ak as though he was a furry trampoline.
Monda-ak sighed, laid his head on his paws, and looked at Alex with his mournful brown eyes as if saying, This is what you have brought me to. I am the mightiest warrior in the land and now I am a rug for toddlers.
Reggie sat cross-legged next to Alex on the grass and smiled, two time travelers stuck out of their own time. Neither had planned on raising their daughters on their own, but they were both more than up for it.
Alex squinted at Reggie in the afternoon sun. “Haven’t you been stuck here at one place long enough?”
Reggie smiled a little broader. He always had the wanderlust, but with Tinka-eh, he had preferred to stay in one place. “I like it here just fine.”
“I do too,” Alex said. “It’s home. But after a long winter in the caves, I’m ready to stretch my legs. I’m going to see Harta-ak and Versa-eh.”
Reggie’s eyes lit up. “That sounds like a pretty manageable trip. How long are you going to be gone?”
“Got a hot date or something?”
Reggie was the one person in Kragdon-ah that Alex allowed himself to speak in the slang of the twenty-first century.
“I have an ulterior motive,” Alex continued. “For some reason beyond my comprehension, people seem to like you. Wait. Check that. They seem to love you. I figure I’ve always got a better shot at a warm reception if I bring you along with me.”
“Don’t bullshit me, man. You’re freaking Manta-ak, hero of Kragdon-ah. I’m just a dude who sings for my supper.” He glanced at the two girls, who had now both climbed aboard Monda-ak’s broad back. Tinka-eh had wrapped her legs around his neck and was pulling on his ears as if they were reins. “Hey there, Tinka-eh. Be gentle with Monda-ak. Those ears are attached.” He turned back to Alex. “I think that’s a good plan. Anyone else coming?”
“I thought we’d travel light. Just the five of us.” Monda-ak woofed, happy to be on an adventure again.
“When do we leave?”
“After all this time, you still have to ask me that?” Alex said with a grin.
“Right. Too-damned-early it is, soldier.”
Chapter Thirty
Danta-ah
The trail to Danta-ah had become familiar to Alex.
Several years earlier, he had stopped and filled in the hole around the blind turn in the trail. He knew where it was, so it posed no danger to him, but he hated the idea that some other unwary traveler might have fallen in and met a horrible death. It had been a long, hot day of digging, but he felt better having accomplished it.
“Gunta, stranger,” a voice hailed Alex when he got within a few miles of Danta-ah.
That’s new.
“Gunta, but I am no stranger. I am Manta-ak and I travel with Untrin-ak, Monda-ak, and our children.”
A tall man with a friendly expression stepped out from behind a tree. “You are indeed. You are always welcome in Danta-ah.” The man whistled and three other warriors stepped out from their cover. Their bows had been strung and arrows nocked, but they were pointed to the ground.
“Last time I was here, there were no guards out this far.”
“Harta-ak is always concerned with someone sneaking up on us. Eventually, we will have guard shacks at the four corners of Kragdon-ah and runners reporting back to him every hour.”
“He is a wise man,” Alex said.
“A wise man who does not have to build these guard houses in the middle of the forest,” the man said. “But what else would I be doing with my time?”
“I suppose you’ve already alerted the next guard down the line that visitors approach?”
“Come, let me show you our newest idea,” the guard said, beckoning them off the road.
They didn’t dismount, but followed the man through the trees. Alex extended his awareness and put his head on a swivel. This man seemed friendly, but if it was an ambush, he might seem friendly too.
It was not an ambush.
The guard shack looked like everything else Klipta-ak designed or built. Solid, utilitarian, and built to last. The interesting feature was a thin fibrous rope that was tied tightly to a tree trunk.
“The problem with using sound to relay messages is that you give yourself away. If I had blown a horn when I saw you, you would have known you were spotted, and I would have given myself away. Instead, I just give a pull on this rope. It’s built to carry the vibrations down the line. A few hundred yards away, there is a relay station. From there, they can give a blast on a horn without giving our position away here.” The man smiled, obviously proud of the idea.
Like an early telegraph wire. How long until someone comes up with a Kragdon-ah version of Morse Code, if they haven’t already?
“Brilliant idea,” Alex said, and he meant it. It wouldn’t have been much for him or Reggie to think of it, as they would just be copying something they remembered. It was a huge leap forward when starting from scratch, though.
They said goodbye to the guards, then headed toward Danta-ah.
Reggie turned to Alex as they rode. “Things are changing fast here, aren’t they? I wonder when the first superhighway will open between Winten-ah and Danta-ah?”
By the time they made it to the imposing front gate that blocked the entrance to Danta-ah, it had swung wide open in welcome and both Harta-ak and Versa-eh were waiting for them.
Versa-eh ran to them and scooped both children from their fathers, cradling them. Tinka-eh loudly said she was too big to be carried, but did not attempt to get down.
Harta-ak whistled twice and a young boy who hadn’t seen his tenth solstice yet ran to him. “Morda-ak, take these horses to the stables and make sure they are well watered and taken care of.”
The boy didn’t answer, but just ran to Alex and held his hand out for the reins. Alex and Reggie both dismounted and turned their horses over to the boy.
Harta-ak called, “Nanda-eh!”
A homely woman with short hair—an anomaly in Kragdon-ah—came running.
“We have guests tonight. Let’s have a feast.”
The woman smiled at Alex and Reggie, revealing missing front teeth, and said, “I will start right now.” She waved a finger in Alex’s direction. “You are a lucky man. Nanda-eh is a much better cook than anyone in Winten-ah!”
Alex marveled at how different things were in Danta-ah. There were new buildings, roads, and other improvements, yes, but most importantly, there were more people. Three years ago, there had been Harta-ak, Versa-eh, and a few dozen captured Lasta-ah warriors.
Now Alex saw women, children, and men he did not recognize hurrying from place to place.
“Where did all these people come from?”
Harta-ak smiled, obviously proud of what they had created in such a short period of time. “Various places. A village to the north was foolish enough to attack Rinta-ah just before the winter solstice. I know he’s just a kid still, but Rinka-ak is a great leader. This tribe invaded Rinta-ah, thinking it would be an easy takeover. Rinka-ak destroyed the attacking force, then chased them back to their village and burned it to the ground. Normally, they would have made all the people
from that village part of their own tribe, but it was winter and their supplies were short.”
“So you helped them out, huh?”
“Well, we came to a deal. The situation was that for the first few years, Versa-eh was the only woman in Danta-ah. With women dying in childbirth, no one wants to risk getting pregnant, but a community with twenty-five men and one woman is not healthy. So, we took them all on. Most of the warriors were dead, so we accepted the women and children.”
Harta-ak turned and watched the young boy leading the horses away. “It’s been good. They’ve brought new energy.”
Just then, a woman walked by carrying a heavy load of sticks. She was broader across the shoulder and thicker through the middle than most Kragdon-ah women.
Harta-ak smiled at her, waited until she passed, then said, “They are not a comely people, but they work hard. Right now, that is more important than anything else.”
Versa-eh pushed Harta-ak in the shoulder and said, “All men ever see is a pretty face.”
They toured the village, with Harta-ak proudly showing off what they had accomplished. “Come, look at our great hall,” he said, turning down a dirt street. “Well, it’s not really great yet,” Harta-ak said,
“...but it will be eventually,” Klipta-ak, the master builder said, wiping his hands on his pants and laying a somewhat-cleaner hand on Alex’s shoulder. “It is good to see you, Manta-ak.”
Alex gestured around at everything they had built and said, “I knew we made a mistake when we let you leave Winten-ah.”
“If I had stayed there, it would have just frustrated us both. The Winten-ah like their lives unchanged from generation to generation. Harta-ak and Versa-eh embrace change.”
“So I saw,” Alex said. “The new alert system you’ve got in the woods. Good idea.”
“I can’t claim that,” Harta-ak said. “That was all Versa-eh.”
“At this rate, you’ll be the most advanced village in this half of Kragdon-ah.”
Klipta-ak laughed. “That is a low standard to clear. People here live like their ancestors did twenty generations back.”
