The Almost Complete Short Fiction

by Don Wilcox

  “You have the tenacity and courage that men would like to have,” he used to say to me. “But never forget this: you are half eagle, but you are all man . . .

  It was not until that night when I was making camp for Stone Jaw that he told me of his mishap of the previous evening.

  By now we were within half a day’s hike of his village, and it was my mention of the little black dots on a distant hillside—a herd of domesticated growsers—that evoked his reflections. He still couldn’t understand why that stupid growser of his had walked off without him.

  “The Clankolite council expected me to make a report today,” he said, “on the conditions of the grass lands in the upper valley. Rarely do I make a stupid blunder that costs me a wound.” Then he muttered reflectively, “I still can’t understand it. Limbs don’t fall from trees unless there is a wind or a quake to shake them down.”

  “‘Did a limb strike you?”

  “It knocked me off my mount and I struck my head on a rock. It fell without warning. Not a dead limb but a live one. I’ve never seen it happen before.”

  It was sorely tempted to tell Stone Jaw exactly what had happened, for now I knew that Flanger’s distant gun was the cause of this man’s accident. But I clamped my beak shut. My new life must not become entangled with men from Karloora.

  Stone Jaw and I feasted around a small fire, which I had made with flints and tinder. He had been delighted with my success at catching game, not realizing that as soon as I had walked out of his hearing I took to my wings. Game was plentiful, and for one of my swiftness and keen eyesight the food problem was not going to be difficult.

  My only worry, when I took to the air, was that some of the space ship crew might leap out of hiding. The pursuit was on, I knew, for several times during the day Stone Jaw and I had had to hide from “vultures.” And in one instance the ship had settled down within half a mile of us and some of the men had struck off on foot in various directions.

  But now it was sunset, and my cocksure sense of freedom was very much with me. It was a justified confidence. The spaces on this moon were vast and I had wings. They would never recapture me.

  Sunset brought a happy discovery to Stone Jaw. His deep eyes, peering into the western skies, felt a sensation of light. Though he couldn’t separate the three suns in the triangle, he was convinced his sight was returning.

  “You may leave me, even now,” he said.

  But a minute later he tripped over a root and sprawled to the ground. I decided I could not leave him yet, and he welcomed my decision.

  Our night’s lodging was in a cave that was familiar to him. He went to sleep mumbling funny Clankolite phrases that were meant as words of thanks and vows of eternal friendship.

  Something awakened me in the night. I sprang up, listening for sounds outside the cave. I was certain I had heard a prowler.

  There it came again, the heavy stomp-stomp-stomp of an approaching animal.

  I moved warily toward the cave entrance, a jagged arch of black against the deep purple sky. I crowded to the left wall, and looked out upon the full moon setting in the west. The night was almost spent.

  Stomp-stomp-stomp. It seemed to be coming right up to the cave. Then it trudged to a stop, and I could hear its slow rhythmic breathing.

  “A growser,” I kept saying to myself. “A growser wandering through the night.”

  It was curious to take a look at the beast. A quick flight out into the moonlight would do the trick. Stone Jaw was sound asleep—and perfectly safe. The entrance of the cave was too small to admit any beast that was much larger than a man. Besides, I would keep watch during my flight.

  I padded silently toward the opening and was just on the point of taking off when I heard the voice.

  “Whooooo . . . Father . . . Are you there? . . . Whooooo . . . Are you there, Stone Jaw? . . . It’s your daughter . . . It’s Breath of Clover . . .”

  My wings went rigid like two slabs of stone. I brushed the tips of them against the left wall as I crowded back into the cave. Before me, silhouetted against the moon, was the rarest picture I had ever looked upon.

  And the strangest study in contrasts. An ugly beast. A beautiful girl. Both outlined against the fast disappearing moon.

  CHAPTER VI

  The beast reminded me of pictures I had once seen in a book of interplanetary natural history—a creature with legs as stocky as tree trunks and thick scales over its back that reflected the moonlight like plates of metal.

  The features of its head were indistinct, but there was a hint of intelligence and brutal will in the high arch of its neck.

  The girl, who had been sitting astride its back, swung down to the ground with an ease and grace that made me sure she was very young—not more than fifteen or sixteen, I guessed—though the contours of her body bespoke perfectly developed young womanhood. The ribbons that clothed her were fluttering in the breeze.

  She was strikingly beautiful. My own emotions I will not attempt to describe. But I will say that no man could have looked upon her without catching his breath.

  “Father . . . Stone Jaw . . . Are you there?”

  She moved toward the cave entrance with a stride that was at once free and bold, yet wary.

  I moved back in the shadows and whispered to Stone Jaw. “Someone is calling you.”

  The old fellow was still asleep. I tapped his arm. He roused up and began muttering dreamily. Then her voice came again, close and intimate, echoed within the cave. Its dialect was that of Stone Jaw’s, its tone that of a child, half expectant, half afraid. Stone Jaw clambered to his feet. I brushed past him in the darkness, and I could guess the look of bewilderment that must have lined his sleepy face. “Breath of Clover? Is that you?”

  “Oh, father, you are here! I’ve found you!” The girl gave a squeal of delight. I could hear the light flapping of her ribbon-like garments as she came running into the cave.

  “What are you doing here, child?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “How did you know to come here?”

  “I’ve been looking everywhere, night and day. Everybody has been looking. We thought you were lost—maybe dead.”

  Stone Jaw gave a snort of disgust. ° “I don’t get lost.”

  “But you said you would return days ago. The tribe was waiting for your report. Did anything happen? Were you in trouble? Great winds, what shaggy whiskers you have. You must look like a sheep. Have you no fire so I can see you? Come out into the moonlight.”

  “Ugh?” the old hunter muttered in surprise. “Isn’t it morning yet?”

  “Not yet. Can’t you see? . . . Can’t you?” The girl’s excited, joyful voice suddenly broke in horror. “Father, what’s the matter?”

  “I’ll be all right, Clover. I had a fall, and things went black. But Fire Jump is here taking care of me. He’s here now—aren’t you, Fire Jump?”

  “I’m here,” I replied, nestling back in a corner uncomfortably. The girl gave a little frightened gasp.

  “Fire Jump has been leading me back,” the old hunter continued. “Soon after this dawn we would have reached the village. But it was good of you to come searching the caves.”

  The girl whispered. This Fire Jump—who was he, where did he come from, where was he going, why should he be leading Stone Jaw back to the village? Was he not up to some mischief?

  Before Stone Jaw could answer I broke into their confidential talk with.”

  “Now that your daughter has come, you will not need me. I shall leave.”

  “Wait,” said Stone Jaw. “Breath of Clover doesn’t know you, but she means no harm. It must soon be morning. If my tribesmen are looking for me, I must show them the man who has cared for my life. You will be my guest, honored at my feasting.”

  Again he repeated some of the funny Clankolite expressions of gratitude. It was not easy for me to rush away. But I was not going to let daylight catch me here with a man whose sight was returning, and his daughter with two good eye
s to see me for what I was.

  “If my daughter could know you as I do,” Stone Jaw was saying, “she would double the strength of my invitation.” He said more along this line, and the girl’s words began to soften toward me, as if she esteemed me as some one of noble status. And I, growing more uncomfortable every minute, looked to the door of the cave.

  Thin streaks of gray light entered from the jagged archway, but most of the light was blocked out. The growser had come up and blocked the entrance with his massive shoulder. My hopes fell. The job of escaping these Clankolite friends was going to be more complicated than I had anticipated.

  Stone Jaw was still lauding me and his extravagant words embarrassed Breath of Clover.

  “If Clover knew how brave and strong you are, she would be giving her faith-gifts to you.”

  “Stone Jaw, an ax through your noisy words,” the girl scolded impetuously. This talk had gone beyond her patience. Faith gifts, as I had learned through previous conversations with the old hunter, had to do with Clankolite rituals of courtship—a bestowing of carved stones or trinkets or shoes of fur. “My faith-gifts,” she added, “go to Flint Fingers. What would he think if I gave faith-gifts to strangers with such weird names as Fire Jump?”

  “He would be as mad as a stung growser,” Stone Jaw said bluntly.

  “Mad enough to kill,” said Breath of Clover. “So I will keep my favors. I will give them to Flint Fingers.”

  “Can there be no better men than Flint Fingers?”

  “There are none so young who have killed so many vultures,” said Breath of Clover, breathing hard with anger and pride.

  The old hunter picked up the challenge sharply. I tried to make out the outlines of his face to catch his expression, but the cave was still steeped in darkness.

  “I’ll wager that Fire Jump,” he said, “has killed more vultures than your Flint Fingers. How many, Fire Jump?”

  “I have no answer,” I said.

  “There, he has no achievements,” said the girl.

  “He has many,” her father barked. “But he makes less noise about them than your Flint Fingers. See. He is saying nothing. But if he wanted to, he could tell you how he is the fastest, highest jumper of all men. He can out-jump any fire. That’s why his name is Fire Jump.”

  There was a silence that bore testimony to the fact that Breath of Clover was deeply impressed.

  “Fire Jump,” she said, “where are you?”

  “Here.”

  “Is it true that you can out-jump any fire?” Her voice came closer to me. Then her hand, reaching out in the darkness, touched my arm. She was trying to see me, but her eyes couldn’t penetrate the dark like mine. “Yes,” I said, “it is true.”

  “Sometime will you show me how high and how swift you can jump?”

  “Perhaps, sometime.”

  “Today,” said Breath, of Clover. With childlike excitement she clutched the powerful biceps of my left arm with both her hands. “Today when we bring father back to the village, the men will build the tallest fire that can be built and you shall jump over it?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you handsome?” Her hands moved up over my shoulder and I knew she intended touching my face. I caught her wrists and thrust her aside. I stepped past her and strode toward the front of the cave.

  A thin crack of pink morning light sifted in over the scaled back of the growser that blocked my path. I padded toward the creature on the run, crowding the right wall of the cave, hoping Breath of Clover’s eyes would not catch me.

  “Fire Jump!” she cried. “Why are you going?”

  “I can’t tell you,” I shouted back, a rasping squawk in my voice. I kicked out at the barrier of crusty scales. The big beast moved lazily, and a wide gap was left between the arch of the cave and the slope of the growser’s neck.

  But not wide enough for me to emerge without running the risk of getting a wing crushed. Only wide enough for a shaft of light to flood in on me.

  “Vulture!” The girl’s scream rang through the cave. “Father, he’s a vulture. Don’t let him get met Oooooh!”

  CHAPTER VII

  That hideous cry sent cold chills through me. Instantly my wings were ready. Instantly the big beast that blocked the doorway lumbered around, snorting and pawing the earth.

  “Get him, growser! He’s a vulture! Ooooh!”

  The girl was crazy with terror. I couldn’t stand that wild screaming. I bounded out of the cave, leaping over the growser as he turned, and flapped out into the air.

  So swift was my take-off that I was winging away before I knew it. The girl’s cry faded like a retreating whistle in my ears.

  I circled high, still hearing the muffled screaming from within the cave, still tingling to my talons with the awfulness of what I had done.

  Below me the ugly head of the dragon-like monster was waggling brutally as his high arched neck whipped from side to side. That word “vulture” had meant something deadly, and the growser knew it. He was striking at the air like a poison snake.

  My arm was wet, and I realized that there was something strange about it. It was wet from being scraped by the growser’s teeth. That’s how close the beast had come to snapping me when I flew by him. What would have happened if I had stayed in the cave?

  But I wouldn’t have, for in that moment of descending danger my eagle instincts had taken full possession of me.

  So that was a growser! And this sickening sweetish odor on my arm was growser saliva.

  Now Breath of Clover emerged from the cave leading her father. There was an awful agony on the old man’s whiskery face. I swooped down to catch a better view, but the girl screamed and Stone Jaw struck out at the air blindly. His sightless days had fixed some habits of helplessness on him.

  But soon he was lifting his head, trying to see where the girl was pointing—which was up at me. His body grew rigid, his eyebrows lifted, his fingers spread over his forehead as if he were enduring some great pain.

  “Don’t let him get us, growser,” the girl was crying.

  Stone Jaw pushed her aside. He gazed up at me and called, “I can see you.”

  His voice trembled, fraught by the terrible shock, and yet there was a glory in his awesome tone. He could see me!

  I let myself down to a bit of ledge, a safe resting place from which to look down upon them—safe as long as that growser didn’t undertake a charge up the side of the cliff. With a show of self-control, Breath of Clover turned her attention to the animal and commanded its obedience. There I was. It must not take its eyes off me.

  The absurdity of it. She was afraid of me. But she was the fearless master of that four-ton jungle critter with vast jaws and knife-blade teeth. It was her obedient beast of burden, her protector.

  In fact, she would have been quite happy if it had chopped my wings in two and turned my body into growser cud—which it had barely failed to do, owing to the fact that I was quick on the jump.

  “Keep your eyes on him, growser.” She patted the creature on the shoulder, somewhat nervously, to be sure; but she feared him less than if he had been a mouse.

  But it was obvious that she was mortally afraid of me. To see me standing up here in the morning light, to see that I was mostly a man, with only the wings and head and feet of an eagle, didn’t banish her terror of me in the least.

  If she had only known me—

  My thoughts whirled back to Magistrate Bendetti.

  The magistrate had been right, of course. He would not have spent day after day pounding a principle into my head if he had not been sure I would need it. All strangers, he had told me, were bound to look upon me with fear and suspicion. I must make up my mind to endure it. I must be terribly careful never to intimidate anyone.

  But above all, I must never cross the path of any girl or woman.

  That, Bendetti had said, must be my first rule of conduct—always—always.

  And yet there was more to this girl’s insane fear than simply the shock
of finding she had been making friends with a freak. What was it?

  What was it that Stone Jaw had said about the vultures? They kill men. They steal women.

  Stone Jaw’s woeful eyes were still looking up at me.

  “Are you Fire Jump?” he called.

  “Yes,” I said. “But I’m leaving you now. I won’t disturb you again.”

  “Where did you come from?”

  “From Karloora.”

  “Karloora! Why did you come here?”

  “They brought me to see if I could fly.”

  “Who brought you?”

  “My owner—Flanger—a man like yourself—only very different. I mean, he was a man that I hated. He was the man who caused me to be made this way.”

  “Caused you to be made?”

  “Yes . . . Can you see my wings, my eagle’s head, my talons? I’m no creature of nature. I’m an experiment in science. Do you know what science is? I’m what happened when some very smart men meddled with different forms of life, playing jokes on unborn babies and eagles to create me . . . Why are you looking at me so strangely?”

  Stone Jaw was slow to answer. His manner was incredulous.

  “Do you believe that?”

  “But it’s true,” I said.

  Whether my declaration made any impression upon him I do not know, but I’m certain it had no effect upon Breath of Clover. She had leaped to the back of the growser during our conversation, as if to guarantee her safety from any further dealings with me. Then some sounds in the distance had attracted her attention.

  She rose to stand like a golden brown statue mounted on the growser’s back, peering across toward the shafts of sunlight down the valley. As the heavy hoofs of a second growser sounded along the hillside she began waving her hand in an excited greeting.

  “Flint Fingers! Hurry!” she cried, and her childish voice was shrill enough to carry against the galloping hoofs. “Hurreeee!”

  Stone Jaw silenced her and went on questioning me. His intent manner was foreboding. Now that he could see me, he and I were both different. His stony manner made him seem a stranger.