by Don Wilcox
I might have rested too, had I not been too entranced by the strangeness of this world. Against the deep purple sky could be seen the black forms of winged sentinels stationed on black towers of rock. Gnarled, barren trees spread their crooked black arms above the jagged horizon. The mystery of the scene was a mystery that could almost be touched lie the feel of magic velvet that melted in one’s fingers.
There was an exotic smell that pervaded the thin atmosphere of these basalt mountains, a smell that was strangely familiar. The breath of nostalgia that had come to me the day I landed on this Blue Moon now returned to fill my lungs and my blood stream with something out of a long forgotten past.
Instinctively I knew that these rugged mountains, these deep blue basalt pits and jagged gray trees were my land. This was where I had been born—
Or at least it was where I should have been born.
Indescribable torments were lodging within the cells of my body. Not the physical torments of torn ligaments or burned flesh, but torments no less painful and far more confusing.
To whom did I owe my deepest loyalties?
How solidly had I allied myself with my Clankolite friends?
All at once these questions were burning me and I tried to answer them.
Aside from one or two Karloora friends—Magistrate Bendetti and his good wife—there were no persons in the world who meant more to me than Stone Jaw, and—for his sake—the beautiful Breath of Clover. And above all, Tangles.
There were other Clankolites, too, that I had come to have an interest in. There was the high official who had demonstrated the disintegration gun, who had supported Stone Jaw against Flint Fingers when my life had been in the balance. There were several rough-and-tumble warriors whom I had watched during their excitement over the coming war.
To have been with these people for a few days, to have watched them from the skies at night, to have stolen from them and played tricks on them and to have carried Tangles around to warn them—these experiences had bent my human sympathies.
To be sure, I even felt a grudging friendship for the big slouchy guard whom I had knocked out with a club.
Those were the sturdy rugged tribes who had thrived in spite of the humiliations and defeats they had suffered at the hands of the vultures. They were the people who were now rising to a common cause. With their new weapons they would make an end of the vultures. They would not stop short of complete extermination.
And here I was realizing with every breath that my deepest instincts came from here.
I moved silently past crags and towers of rock, sometimes flying, sometimes padding along on foot. These massive veins of brittle rock felt good to my talons. I floated past a huge dead tree where a lone vulture was perched, his sleeping form silhouetted against the starry sky.
That vulture might have been my brother.
The mound-shaped hut down on the flat rock was his home. It was his to guard, night or day, whenever there might be danger. Baby vultures would be born there, for within that roofed nest there must live a woman—a stolen Clankolite girl.
I flew on, trying to thrust these thoughts out of my feverish mind. But I kept recalling Tangles—her frightened look on that morning when she saw the vultures flying over with their captives.
I would go on searching for Breath of Clover. But somehow I knew that here, in this land, on this night, I had discovered something that was rightfully mine. And I would not forget it . . .
It was many days before I left the purple mountains and flew back to the valley of the Clankolites.
The village of Stone Jaw had not been moved, and I surmised that plans had been changed after the arrival of guns and armor. The greener pastures could wait.
I approached the village with great caution. Someone was coming over the meadows on a growser. I knew from the red brocaded saddle blanket that it was Stone Jaw.
I circled him, pointing to the gold emblem I wore on my right hip to be sure he knew me. But I needn’t have. He recognized me at once from the lines of my heavily muscled body, if not from my wings.
He called a greeting to me. The growser started snapping at the air, raring for a fight. So Stone Jaw climbed down and left it to graze, agreeing that I could fly him to his destination, so that we could talk undisturbed.
“I’m on my way to a cave—one that you remember,” he said.
I picked him up and we winged away to the south.
“I needn’t hold back the bad news,” I said. “I didn’t find your daughter. I searched the whole range of vulture settlements. I listened to the older Clankolite women talk about the new crop of captives. They spoke of many by name—daughters of their own neighbors. But no one spoke of seeing the daughter of Stone Jaw.”
“I’m sure you made a good search,” Stone Jaw said, with a touch of kindly smile at his lips.
“A thorough search would take years,” I said. “It’s impossible to go into each home, of course. But I will go back—”
“Before you tell me more,” said Stone Jaw, “I have news for you. Some good, some bad. . . Here is the cave.”
We alighted at the entrance. Then I backed away lest my presence be unwelcome. There stood Breath of Clover.
“It’s Fire Jump,” Stone Jaw reassured her. “You won’t be afraid of him this time, will you?”
“No.” The girl smiled and glanced at me timidly. I thought of her as I had first seen her, bounding down from the growser in the moonlight, graceful, entrancingly beautiful. To see her standing before me now, smiling gratefully as her father praised me for my heroic efforts, brought back that earlier glow of indefinable emotions. Stone Jaw’s words were sincere, and her smile was friendly. All the hurt and shock from the past was erased.
“You see, I was wrong,” Stone Jaw said. “Breath of Clover wasn’t carried away to the mountains. She is a better fighter than I knew. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t call you back after I learned the truth.”
“I learned many things by going,” I said. “But you spoke of bad news. There can be no bad news for you, Stone Jaw, as long as your daughter is well—and happy.”
“As for her happiness—” Stone Jaw frowned. “We will talk more of that later, Fire Jump. But now—the bad news is for you. It concerns Tangles—”
“She was taken?”
“She went of her own accord. She must have had a reason. I hate to think it was jealousy.”
“Jealousy?”
“She knew that you flew away to the mountains to try to rescue me,” said Breath of Clover, reddening.
“But there must have been some deeper reason for her strange actions,” Stone Jaw added hastily.
I was stupefied. Their fragments of news had burst on me so swiftly that I couldn’t understand it.
“Are you telling me,” I asked, “that Tangles voluntarily went back to the mountains with the vultures?”
“No, no, no,” Stone Jaw stammered. “She went back to Karloora with one of the space freighters . . . voluntarily.”
CHAPTER XV
I returned to my own cave—the mansion of loneliness in the cliffside a few miles up the valley.
My burden of despondency was never so heavy before. All the weight of the Blue Moon hung from my wings when I flew, and settled upon my back when I tried to sleep.
On days when Stone Jaw made his trips out from the village to visit his daughter I came to talk with them. The troubles were heavy upon them, too.
Breath of Clover was hiding. On the night of the big attack she had not only freed herself from a vulture. She had freed herself from Flint Fingers—she hoped. Under the blanket of darkness she had fled, knowing the villagers would believe her kidnapped.
And so they did. They and Stone Jaw had mourned her loss. He had not learned the truth until later while on a hunting jaunt.
Now he was “hunting” almost daily, to keep watch over her.
“If Flint Fingers ever finds out, he will be angry enough to do murder,” Stone Jaw told me. “A
nd yet by the Clankolite code he may force a marriage. For their exchange of faith-gifts was completed before the attack.” Breath of Clover wept silently as her father told me these things. Flint Fingers had slapped her and struck her down during the last quarrel. Why had she ever thought she could love him?
“The truth is, he has changed for the worse since he gained fame as a vulture killer,” said Stone Jaw. “And now there is a new story of his cruel intentions. It concerns you, Fire Jump.”
“Me? But Flint Fingers doesn’t even know me.”
Breath of Clover burst out crying again. She had told Flint Fingers all about me.
“I didn’t mean to,” she sobbed. “But after I made the first slip he threatened me until he got the whole story—even about you and Tangles. You see, Tangles thought you were so grand, trying to warn all the villages—and I tried to make Flint understand.”
And so I learned that my secret was out. Rumors about me were running riot through the villages. Fire Jump, the vulture who had been in prison during the gun demonstration, was a very special vulture who had visited the planet of Karloora, and who had tried to wedge himself into the social life of the Clankolites.
How?
By the most despicable of tricks. By taking advantage of a hunter who was temporarily blind. And by playing on the sympathies of a ragged little orphan girl.
Chills played through my wings as I heard these rumors. I turned to search Stone Jaw’s deep-lined face.
“What does this talk do for you?”
“Flint Fingers charges that I am a traitor,” Stone Jaw said dispassionately. “He says he is going to put me to the test.”
“How?”
“By forcing me to kill you.” Stone Jaw managed to smile as he said it.
“Do you carry a disint gun?” I asked.
“We’ll all carry them when we make our attacks on the mountains. At that time, if not sooner, it will be my special task to search you out and put an end to you. If I fail, Flint Fingers will have the satisfaction of branding me a traitor.”
“It sounds simple,” I said, drawing the corners of my beak in a smile. “But there’s a catch in it. Disint guns don’t leave any dead bodies to prove your valor.”
“Sometimes the wings are left. Or maybe a foot.”
“But that’s a matter of chance. If I’m in danger of being disintegrated I won’t be standing still. You’ll be lucky if I leave you a single feather to prove your deed.”
Stone Jaw studied me with amusement.
It was all right for me to joke, but that problem had caused some real worry for Flint Fingers. However, the young warrior was prepared to go to some trouble to win his point. Let me be captured first, he had advised. Then Stone Jaw could be forced to perform his act of allegiance in public.
“It still sounds quite complicated,” I said. “There are thousands of us vultures, and we all look pretty much alike. How can anyone hope to capture me?”
“I put the same question to Flint Fingers,” Stone Jaw replied. “His answer was that there was at least one person besides myself who could identify you: the big jail guard. Then he gave another clue. You would be found near Breath of Clover.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I hate to say this,” said Stone Jaw. “But the rumors have taken a very vicious turn. Everyone believes it was you who flew away with my daughter.” There was a tense silence. My facetious mood vanished and the heat of anger filled me. Was my every effort to help doomed to explode in my face?
“I tried to tell them,” Stone Jaw said, “that you had gone to rescue her, as a favor to me. But Flint Fingers wouldn’t believe me. He damned me for a traitor and you for a thieving vulture.”
“Did Tangles hear this story?” I gasped.
“She must have heard.”
“And believed it?”
“Who knows?”
A few days later we talked again, and I found that Breath of Clover had fought it out with herself. She had decided to go back and face Flint Fingers. Only by doing so could she prove to the Clankolites that I was innocent.
It was a noble decision. This timorous, troubled girl possessed more than physical beauty. Her real strength of character was something to excite high admiration.
But I wouldn’t think of letting her go through with her rash plan.
“Go back and marry a man you hate?” I squawked. “Not while your father and I live to prevent it. Let Flint Fingers and the other rumor mongers do their worst against me. I’ll take care of myself.”
My words brought a kindly smile to Stone Jaw’s face. His hand clutched that of Breath of Clover. He wouldn’t have let her go through with it, I am sure; but he had been pleased that she had risen to such a decision—and confident that I would set it aside.
I took Breath of Clover and her father to my own cave. It was high time to take all precautions for their safety. Two more space freighters had arrived with materials for Clankolite warriors. Their raids would soon begin.
“This cave will be our refuge,” said Stone Jaw. “I’ll confer with hunters—those I can trust—and keep in touch with what happens. But the more I keep out of public affairs the better—until Flint Fingers loses some of his power.”
Breath of Clover was through with tears, now that she felt that her bond with Flint Fingers was completely broken. But I couldn’t help wondering how long she would be able to endure this exile. I recalled the maddening loneliness I had suffered.
The raids began the next day . . . War! It had come with new terrors. Foolishly I thought I could avoid it.
Through the cool season that followed I did a great deal of roving, from the valley haunts of Stone Jaw to the purple mountains of the vultures—and even beyond. Whenever I returned to the cave Stone Jaw and I exchanged news and gossip from our respective worlds. The war. The thousands of dead vultures. The frightened stampedes of growsers. Flint Fingers’ rise to power. Latest kidnappings of Clankolite women.
Whether Breath of Clover knew it or not, the loneliness was coming over her. Her eyes were wistful as I told her of the life of the captive women in the land of the vultures. Her father frowned as he noted her eagerness to hear more.
“How do they live?” she asked. “Are they terribly unhappy?”
“Not as you’d think,” I said. “You should have been there to see how the new captives were greeted by the older women. You can scarcely imagine a warmer reunion.”
“Any marriage ceremony?”
“Of a sort—extremely simple. The vultures don’t go in for ritual. But there were no immediate marriages. You see, the vulture who captures a girl doesn’t necessarily get her. At least, not at once. She’s protected in the home of soma older woman until she’s gotten used to the vulture’s ways. In the meantime the vulture tries to make a favorable impression in order to win her.”
“How?”
“By bringing her food. By standing guard. By appearing to be strong and brave. Even by defending themselves against Clankolite guns.
“Of course, the women never get over their terror from being captured—or do they?” Breath of Clover’s eyes flicked up at me searchingly.
“Their spirits vary. I can’t see many signs of terror among those who have been there a few years. Sadness—yes. They talk of the old Clankolite days. They sing old Clankolite songs together. And when new captives come with fresh news from the valley, there is weeping and homesickness. But there is also laughter. And talk—talk.”
The girl’s eyes glistened. “Maybe they’re not so unhappy.”
Poor thing. It was so obvious that her eager interest was a rebound from her dread of Flint Fingers.
“At least it’s a remarkable fact,” I observed, “that the captured women don’t return. They accept their lot. Most of them appear to be content.”
“Do you think—” Breath of Clover looked off into the distance dreamily. “Do they grow to love—I mean—” Stone Jaw interrupted with an irritated cough. His daughter’s curi
osity was more than he could stand. He moved restlessly to the ledge in front of the cave and tried not to listen.
“There’s not much social communion between the vultures and the women,” I said. “I’ve never heard them laugh together—or quarrel. The vultures aren’t very communicative. They’re as crude in their speech as they are in their eating habits or their fighting.”
Breath of Clover had heard them talk, she said. She had listened to vulture prisoners. “They give sharp caws, like birds. They’ll say, ‘Come! . . . Go! . . . Eat . . . Bring!’ ”
Stone Jaw turned to get back in the conversation, driven by a curiosity of his own.
“Is it true, Fire Jump, that there are no women vultures?”
“That’s the strange fact. No female babies are born. Only males. That’s why this thievery and war will keep right on forever between you and—and us.”
My last word made Stone Jaw catch his breath. He gave me a look as if to say, “No more of this talk. It’s working on my daughter’s imagination.” Breath of Clover slipped past us and swung down the path, her hair tossing in the wind. Her father called to her, but she was in a pensive mood and didn’t bother to answer.
“There, see what you’ve done,” Stone Jaw muttered to me. “She’s gone off to have some more fool daydreams about happiness.” Then observing my thoughtful silence, he asked, “What are you thinking, Fire Jump?”
“About the Clankolite raids,” I said, “and about my part in this war. I may not see you again, Stone Jaw, for many days.”
“I thought you meant to avoid the war . . . But I understand. Neither of us can do that, Fire Jump. If you take up arms against the Clankolites, I can’t blame you. I know how you must feel.”
“Life in the purple mountains has a fascination for me, Stone Jaw,” I confessed. “As things are going now it may all be swept away. But I’ve been thinking . . . Do you know anything of the great lake of fire beyond the mountain—deep within a pit?”
“No Clankolite ever goes to it, because of the vultures. I’ve heard that some explorers have seen its glow from mountain tops. Why?”
