The Almost Complete Short Fiction

by Don Wilcox

  “The planet of Karloora is big, Stone Jaw,” I said. “There are thousands of cities and millions of men. Who are your backers and what will they get out of it, giving you these guns?”

  “I can’t answer,” he said. “The arrangements were made a season ago while you and I took our long walk.”

  “Then it’s Flanger!” I snapped. “Flanger or his men. They were here at the time. It was they who brought me.”

  Stone Jaw nodded. “I have heard the name of Flanger mentioned. Whoever is befriending us with the guns, there’ll be trouble for the vultures.”

  “There’ll be trouble for the Clankolites,” I muttered, “before Flanger gets through.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “Because I know him. He carries a scheme in his mind that is full of death. He dreams in terms of thousands of trained fighters that can be bought and sold. That was why he trained me. To see how well I could be disciplined—I and thousands more like me. But I disappointed him. I ran away.”

  “You’re saying strange things, Fire Jump.” Stone Jaw walked back and forth uneasily. “Why should there be thousands of trained fighters?”

  “So they can be sold to men who want to conquer,” I replied. “Every planet that can be reached by space ship is fair game for hungry conquerors. Even this Blue Moon.”

  The skies were growing pink with dawn. Stone Jaw peered about to make sure our conversation wasn’t attracting any notice. A few groups of Clankolites were still lolling around the fires, where they had feasted and gossiped all night long.

  “Does anyone know who you are?” Stone Jaw asked. “Do they know you came from Karloora? Have they heard you talk?”

  “I haven’t spoken a word since they captured me,” I said.

  “How did they do it? As easily as you eluded Flint Fingers I’m surprised.”

  “I grew careless. I knew I was taking a risk. But Tangles and I were having such an exciting adventure that I walked straight into a trap.”

  “Tangles! That little homeless girl who runs around bothering everyone? How did you happen to know her?”

  I reminded him that she appeared on the scene the morning his daughter came out to the cave and found him. Then I found myself telling the whole story—the space ship chase, Tangles’ narrow escape from the vulture, the moonlight flight back to the brook, the storm that kept Tangles in the cave until morning.

  Then I spoke of the days of solitude, my determination to live apart from all companionship, and the unendurable loneliness that gradually took possession of me.

  “For a time I interested myself by making exploratory flights—each flight in a different direction. But soon my nightly excursions tended to take a definite path—always toward the Clankolite villages. I’ve soared high over your fires many times during these recent nights. Sometimes I flew low enough over the meadows to scare the growsers up from their sleep. Sometimes I floated so silently over your barbecue fires that I could smell the feast. And once—”

  I hesitated, but Stone Jaw’s eyes betrayed an eager appreciation. Perhaps he was anticipating my story.

  “Did you and Flint Fingers ever agree,” I asked, “upon what became of a roast fowl that mysteriously disappeared from your fire one night?” Stone Jaw stared at me blankly. “You—you didn’t dare fly down and—”

  “No,” I said. “I stole it without flying down. You see, I’ve generally refrained from eating birds. Perhaps it’s a sort of kinship I feel for anything with wings. But my appetite was whetted by the smell of that fowl. I hadn’t killed it. To steal it could hardly be any worse offense than killing it. In fact, I was learning there was a satisfaction in stealing—even a thrill—”

  I wished I hadn’t said it, Stone Jaw gave me such a searching look. Stealing was a vulture characteristic, of course. But I had thought of it only as a game to relieve the pressure of my loneliness.

  “You took the fowl because you wanted it,” said Stone Jaw.

  “I hooked it,” I said. “In part, it was a game of pitting my cleverness against Flint Fingers. I was defying him, not you, Stone Jaw. For I was never sure until tonight what you felt toward me. But Flint Fingers feels murder. Nothing will ever change that.”

  “You hooked the fowl?”

  “With a long claytung wire. Then I flew over to the brook and enjoyed a feast. Your daughter is a splendid cook, Stone Jaw.”

  He was laughing. Breath of Clover would laugh too, he said, when she learned the truth. For that mysterious disappearance had been the source of bitter words between her and Flint Fingers, the hot-headed young warrior being sure she had cooked it to a cinder.

  “He trusts no one, and his suspicions are growing harsher every day,” Stone Jaw said. He glanced down the trail toward the big bewhiskered guard who was making his way toward us at a slow sleepy pace. “Look at that massive beast of a man. If my daughter had chosen him, could be no more miserable than now. But she has already given Flint Fingers a third faith-gift—the yellow saddle blanket he rides upon. Now if he returns a gift they will be bound to marry.”

  I mused upon the implications of his talk. “Three exchanges of faith-gifts, then, are the ritual for a marriage bargain.”

  “Three,” he repeated. My manner must have told him something I had meant to conceal, for he began to question me. Why should I be so interested in the matter of Clankolite gifts?

  “Because of Tangles,” I said, and reached into the pocket of my trunks. I brought forth a small disc of sunbaked clay.

  Stone Jaw turned it in his fingers and studied the circular design imprinted upon it.

  “It’s an imprint of a Karloora coin,” I said.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Tangles left it for me.”

  “What did she say it meant?”

  “We’ve never spoken of it. I found it one day when I flew down to the brook where we first talked. A small pyramid of stones had been built. Under the top stone I found this clay ornament. I knew Tangles had left it. I hadn’t seen her for many days, but I took this to be a message from her. So—”

  “Yes?”

  “I made a clay imprint of this eagle symbol I wear and left it on the pyramid. A few days later it was gone.”

  “How do you know it was Tangles who took it?”

  “Because one day I found her there, waiting to talk with me. She was wearing the eagle disk on a string like a charm.”

  Stone Jaw was stupefied. “I’ll keep these matters a secret. But hear my advice, Fire Jump—” He drew a deep breath but found no words to finish. “You must get out of here and fly to the hills before this war begins. Otherwise—”

  “I’ll have no dealings with thieving, killing vultures. Tell me what I can do to prove loyalty to you and your people.”

  Stone Jaw glanced at my eagle face. He reached out and brushed his hand over the feathers of my throat. He couldn’t have said it any more plainly. The Clankolites wouldn’t think of accepting loyalty from one of my build.

  “But I’ve already tried,” I said desperately. “We’ve been helping to spread the warning to all the villages.”

  “We?”

  “Tangles and I. She was the first one to see the vulture scouting party. I flew with her and we trailed the scouts all the way down the river until they passed the last village and headed back toward the mountains.”

  “You flew with Tangles?”

  “I carried her in my arms. She isn’t heavy. And I’m much better at flying than I was at first.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then Tangles kept talking about how horrible it would be when the vultures came back to make their raids. So on our return we made a stop near each village, and I kept out of sight while she ran in to spread the warning. It gave me a wonderful sense of importance to be doing something for all the Clankolites. But I grew overconfident and careless about keeping hidden. While I waited outside this place a short distance down the river, I bounded over to a very conspicuous fruit tree, and a
rope trap sprung—”

  “Sssssh!” Stone Jaw whispered, glancing toward the trail. “No more time to talk. You should be a hero,

  Fire Jump. But there’s more chance you’ll be a corpse. Anyway, stay where you are, and I’ll try to get next to one of the big officials before the trouble breaks . . .

  I watched Stone Jaw ride away on his growser. Three hills away I could still distinguish the bright speck of red that was his brocaded saddle blanket. Then he disappeared and the brightness of the day was gone, and there was only that mountain-shaped guard sitting on the bench, smacking his lips over a grisly bone.

  The following morning I awoke to strange noises.

  Clang. Clang. Clankety, clankety, clang.

  I rubbed my eyes and sat up. Such sounds I hadn’t heard since leaving Karloora.

  Bright lights to the north and west of me stabbed my eyes. I looked out upon the hulls of two space freighters, each reflecting the triangle of suns from their polished metal noses.

  Other flashes of light came from the open locks where the cargo was being unloaded—long sheets of glistening claytung.

  Probably no previous day in the history of the Blue Moon had ever brought so much excitement. Two shiploads of warriors’ goods! The benefactors of Karloora had made their promise good. The ships had slipped in silently during the night, but watchers and officials had been quick to summon workers to the scene, and there would be no more silence until the work was done.

  The trails from the village to the upland meadow, where the freighters had landed, were alive with all sorts of traffic throughout the day, and I gathered in no end of news and gossip, simply by lying under my bench and keeping my ears open.

  Under the bench appealed to me as the most comfortable place to spend the day. The disint guns had come and many of the more important Clankolites were spending the day playing at target practice. The climate wasn’t right for me to be thrusting my eagle beak out through the bars.

  The sheets of claytung were for armor. Claytung armor would withstand the disint fire, and in the thick of battle it would be well to be fully protected from one’s own fire. Besides, as the friendly Karloorans were said to have observed, a vulture might be clever enough to steal a disint gun and use it.

  A few sample suits of claytung armor had come with the cargo, and one of them clanked along over the trails several times during the day. The wearer was usually shouting at someone with a disint gun to go ahead and shoot him, and the gunman would yell back, “I am shooting.” A rowdy crowd would follow along watching the purple fire spray off the armored man’s back, making funny remarks and thoroughly enjoying the show. Soon they would all be wearing claytung and carrying guns. Let the vulture hordes come.

  Watching a child with a new toy is doubtless a good show on any planet. But watching these Clankolites with new guns and armor was in a class by itself. When the village chieftain was finally persuaded to put on his full war regalia and ride through the streets on his growser, shooting holes in the ground, the glory of the day reached its climax.

  The space ships had moved on early in the morning to take cargo on to other villages. But the pandemonium of clanging metal went on all day. Stone workers were transformed into claytung-smiths as if by magic, to undertake the work of constructing great quantities of armored suits at once.

  By evening the jubilations were somewhat marred by rumors of shooting accidents that had taken a tragic toll among several of the villages. This unpleasant news was hard to take. There was some talk among the officials of issuing no more guns until a system of training could be established.

  But on the other hand it was argued that the big attack was imminent. The season and the weather were right for vulture trouble. Moreover, other parties of vulture scouts had been sighted recently. The need for some hasty preparation was imperative, if these new tactics were to count.

  That night it came—a full force attack of vultures.

  CHAPTER XIII

  It wasn’t my war. Stone Jaw had made that plain.

  But I was in on it. The instant that arrows and vulture feathers began to fly I leaped into action. Well-planned, sure-fire action. I knew my immediate enemy far better than he knew me.

  It was almost unfair: I could move so fast and that mammoth guard was so sluggish. He seemed scarcely aware that a general battle was on, even though the screams of women were already ringing out from the village.

  I knew the very bar that would practically fall into my hands at a touch. I caught it out of the darkness on first reach. I jumped to the south wall and thrust my arm through, club and all.

  The big guard, squirming on the bench disconcertedly, was a mountain of shadow against the sparks of the village campfires.

  I swung the club. Klunk. The mountain of shadow avalanched to the ground.

  I ripped three more bars out of the wall. Then there was a fluttering from the other side and I saw a pair of eagle eyes glaring at me through the blackness.

  The damning invective, “Vulture!” slid to the tip of my tongue, but luckily I swallowed it. I reached for a club. Then I discovered that the winged creature was kicking and jerking at the bars.

  “Out!” the vulture croaked in a guttural tongue. “Out! . . . Out! . . . Come! . . . Fight!”

  Together we snapped two more bars out. Then I leaped through without touching my wings or talons.

  My winged rescuer beckoned at me. But without waiting he flew off to join the attackers elsewhere. Releasing prisoners was only so much routine with him. Our paths would never cross again.

  Left to my own devices, I took to the air and skimmed high over the thin strings of disint fire. I dodged other vultures plowing through the upper blackness. Soon I was safely on my way to the west-most village to find Stone Jaw . . .

  By the time I arrived things were comparatively quiet. The attack on this settlement had come and gone an hour before. It had left devastation in its wake. These Clankolite warriors, caught in a confused state over whether to use the new fancy weapons or their old reliables, had given a poor account of themselves.

  I could hear Flint Fingers’ voice above all the others. He was trying to make up for everyone’s poor fighting by his own loud shouting.

  He evidently had done well enough himself, however, with a disint gun. But the villagers were not counting disintegrated vultures now. They were counting their own casualties, and especially their missing.

  I saw Stone Jaw sitting a long way back from the fire, his head in his hands. I knew from his attitude that tragedy had come his way.

  I overheard some Clankolite children saying that a vulture had flown down and seized Breath of Clover.

  I bided my time in the darkness until it was safe to call to Stone Jaw. He was lost in his grief and didn’t hear me at first. I approached him and pressed a hand against his shoulder. He looked up slowly, trying to see me in the dark.

  “Fire Jump?” he asked, and his uncertain manner reminded me of the days when he had been helpless.

  “You need my help, Stone Jaw.”

  “I—yes—” He rubbed his fingers over his forehead. Then he looked up to see some warriors crossing past a firelight. “You’ve no business here, Fire Jump,” he whispered tensely. “They’ll shoot you on sight. Take yourself away.”

  “I’ll follow the vultures, Stone Jaw,” I said. “I’ll overtake them. If Breath of Clover is alive I’ll recover her.”

  “Could you?”

  Instantly I took off into the air.

  For hours afterward his last two words echoed in my ears and I still saw him in my mind’s eye, sitting there looking up at me like a forlorn statue.

  I flew south.

  By the time the eastern clouds took on the weird amber-colored flames of dawn I was nearing deep purple mountains.

  Looking backward I saw a thin black horizontal line against the northern sky, and I knew that I was ahead of the returning hordes of vultures.

  I dropped down into the scrubby forest lan
d and refreshed myself with food and rest and sweet water from a lively mountain spring.

  The dark line was coming closer. Soon the swiftest of the vultures were flying over me. I lay on a grassy slope, half-hidden by the thin shrubbery; I propped my head in my hands and began to count.

  “Thirty-five . . . thirty-six . . . thirty-seven . . . And a few minutes later: “Two thousand . . . two thousand and one . . . two, three, four—”

  A veritable cloud of wings filled the sky, now, and I was forced to estimate in hundreds.

  Not until this first cloud had passed did I begin to see the vultures who were bearing captives. They weren’t making such good speed. Also among these slower ones were vultures that had come away with minor wounds and damaged wings.

  These stragglers were widely scattered. Their complete lack of formation was all to the good. My job of rising to lose myself among them was going to be easy. They would never distinguish me as any different from themselves as long as I kept moving.

  At least, so I thought. And within limits my theory was correct.

  Up into the air I went, to mingle with creatures of my kind. At once I went to work. Somewhere among these hosts of captive women I hoped to discover Breath of Clover . . .

  Was that girl Tangles? My heart jumped a beat.

  I swerved closer to the vulture I was about to pass, and succeeded in getting a clear view of the captive girl lying limp beneath his brown wings. No, I was mistaken.

  I closed my eyes and drifted along almost unconsciously to wear off the shiver of fright. That shock was repeated many times, always with a chill of terror. So many of the new faces

  I saw might have been Tangles. Or Breath of Clover.

  All day long the flight continued, and with it my fruitless searching.

  CHAPTER XIV

  It was night over the land of the vultures. The long journey had been completed. The exhausted travelers had gone to their separate homes. Talk had been cut short in favor of rest. Wings and heads were drooping.