The Almost Complete Short Fiction
Page 349
“Will Daunsog still remember me?” he wondered. “Did he retain any of our conversations about the wonders of space travel?”
The language of Daunsog ran through his mind. Again he thought of the girl who had pressed the canteen of water to his lips. “She spoke the language of Daunsog!”
He stopped and gazed back at the fantastic towers of stone. Surely no one could live out in this wild desert. She must have strayed from the coastal city that lay ahead.
He hurried on. A pink and purple twilight came over the land. The familiar mountain ridge loomed against the sky. He remembered it, a horseshoe of red rock above the sea, enclosing the primitive city of mud and stone. Within this horseshoe the worshippers of Kessa lived and died, knowing a little of the sea, a little of the desert and nothing more.
He paused, recalling the faintly visible coils of smoke he had seen above the ridge on his previous visit. It was the same now. The city would be there, unchanged.
He heard the slightest sound of patting steps on the bare stretch of rock. He glanced back and caught sight of her—the girl who had saved his life. She was following him.
CHAPTER III
He waited, calling to her softly. She sat at a little distance from him, not speaking, but watching him intently.
She was a splendidly formed girl. Her slender, half-clothed body was like gold in the waning light of evening. Jewels glinted from her costume. The glitter of green and amber-, banded about her forehead and beaded at her throat, was a jewelled hood, out of which her dark hair flowed over her shoulders like a mantle.
Her face betrayed strangely mixed emotions. From her boldness in rescuing a stranger from a desert storm, Berk would have expected the fearlessness of her features, the light of daring in her dark eyes. But there were deeper meanings in her mysterious gazing; as if she had retreated, in awe of the one she had aided.
In a low, calm voice, Berk tried to reassure her. She needn’t fear him. His costume might be unlike anything she had ever seen; the insignia of the spaceman that adorned his red, black-trimmed suit might be as meaningless to her as the gleaming black-and-white ray pistols he wore at his side. But she could see from his demeanor that he was another human being, much like herself. He wore no helmet. He breathed the air of this world almost as naturally as she herself. And he talked her language.
“Friend.” It was the third time he had said it.
“Yes?”
“I am your friend . . . I am a stranger from far away . . . But I already know about your city . . . ”
“Yes.”
““I come in peace to see a friend.”
“Yes.”
What did she mean, yes? That she knew? He moved a little closer and sat, regarding her with admiration. Her beauty could easily have dazzled him. He couldn’t allow himself to think of that. He was dealing with complex emotions, the timidity that had somehow overtaken her boldness, and again, the wide-eyed awe.
“You know nothing about me, of course,” he tried to be casual in his game of winning her trust, “but if you come from the city down by the sea, you may know a certain friend of mine—someone named Daunsog that I’ve come to see.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I promised him I would come back.”
“Yes, I know.”
This was exasperating. Why was she pretending? She probably didn’t even know the name of Daunsog. Berk tried a different approach.
“Why were you out there on the desert?”
“I was running away.”
“Why?”
“You already know,” she said, looking at him intently. “You know everything.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I was running away. I was confused. I didn’t mean to be sinful. I was afraid of the sacrifice. Please forgive me.”
“Forgive you! What are you talking about? You saved my life. We both know that. We both know the storm came to an end right afterward. If I were superstitious—”
“Oh, Prophet Berk!” She moved toward him in an attitude of worship. “I know who you are. You needn’t pretend to be a stranger to our world. At first I was deceived. But when I studied your face I remembered the picture. You are Berk the Prophet! You’ve come back!”
CHAPTER IV
Superstitions! The silly beliefs of primitive peoples! As Berk sat there, studying the beauty of the girl who spoke to him, he wished mightily that all the twisted half-truths of the Kessa faith were at the bottom of the sea. He was simply a man, gazing upon the hypnotic beauty of a finely formed girl. Yet she called him Prophet and looked upon him with religious awe, and believed he knew everything, and hoped he could forgive her!
What on earth had he walked into? What sort of build-up had Daunsog given him in his absence? What in the name of—Kessa?
“Are you sure I’m a prophet? . . . Prophets can be very human, you know . . . What is your name?”
“Daunsa.”
“Daunsa?” He studied her with new interest. “You mean—”
“I am the daughter of Daunsog.”
“Well! That explains—” He broke off, his thoughts whirling. It was true, then, that she had seen a picture of him the small token he had left with Daunsog. Yes, it was possible that she might recognize him. But this prophet business, and her running away, and asking him not to think her sinful—it was all too much for Berk to swallow at first gulp. The more so because he was so fascinated by her loveliness! So this was the daughter of Daunsog, that cute little inquisitive fellow who had listened to Berk’s tall tales about the wonders of worlds beyond. Now he could see the resemblance in her facial features. He spoke her name with reverence. “Daunsa.”
“Yes.”
“You are very lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“You must bear a very close resemblance to your father.”
“Yes.” The girl was suddenly weeping.
“Believe me, Daunsa, I don’t know why you were running away, but I’m sure there must have been a reason. Take me to your father, and let’s see if we can’t learn the meaning of all this.”
“I have just buried my father in the desert,” Daunsa said quietly. “You knew, didn’t you? You must have been there watching over my shoulder.” Her moist eyes looked at him in great questioning. “That’s why you came—to guide me back to the ways of Kessa. Forgive me for losing faith . . . in my anguish . . . It would have been so easy to die . . . as he died. Forgive me.”
Berk touched her hand. It was the only gesture he could think of, in hope of consoling her. But she drew her hand back in alarm, and the light of amazement filled her dark eyes.
“I never thought I should be touched by a prophet,” she said.
He rose, walked about, gazing at the darkening skies. He returned to her. “I’m very human, you know.”
“Listen! . . . It’s a party of searchers. They’re looking for me.”
A group of five or six persons had appeared at a little distance, silhouetted against one of the two orange moons that had edged up over the black line of mountains.
“Please forgive me if I hide from them, Berk,” the girl whispered. “I’ll return, soon, but I can’t face them now. Goodbye. I’m going to hide.”
“I’ll hide with you,” Berk said. “Believe me, I’m very human.”
CHAPTER V
The search party stopped within a few feet of their hiding place. The two torches were stuck in the side of a drift, and the group treated themselves to food and rest. The torchlight cast a pale glow over the sandy slope beyond the jagged rocks within which Berk and Daunsa nestled. A zigzag break in the rocks afforded a narrow view of the party and brought their voices through sharply.
“How much farther do we have to go?”
“What do you care? It’s better than standing guard at the plaza.”
“We haven’t even picked up a trail. For all we know, she walked into the sea instead of the desert.”
“Let’s camp for the night. Old Yig Morrow won�
��t know but what we walked our legs off. If he doesn’t like it, let him do his own searching.”
“Camp if you want to. I’ll go on searching—but not because Yig Morrow said so.”
“Yig Morrow would murder both of you for those remarks.”
“No doubt. He must have his diversions.”
“We’re wasting the night. The girl ought to be brought back. She’s been chosen to honor Kessa—”
“By whom?”
“By Kessa, naturally. Nobody dares say it’s Yig Morrow himself who decides these matters.”
“It’s Yig Morrow that gets to marry them before they burn off into the Beyond.”
“Watch your language, Cog. Yig Morrow would hang you on a spear.”
Berk listened tensely. He and Daunsa were side by side, deep in the shadows. She seemed to tremble whenever some dangerous remark was made by Cog, the young skeptic.
With full-voiced boldness Cog pursued, “If I were Daunsa’s father, I would command her to run away. Why should she stay and let herself enter the fire route to the Beyond?”
“It’s an honor that doesn’t come to many.”
“Only to the beautiful. And only once.” Cog’s words were answered by cold silence. Was it human sacrifice they were talking about, Berk wondered. Now Cog spoke again of Daunsog, evidently believing him still alive. “Maybe her father did command her to run away. How do we know? We never get to see him. They say he’s in his tower, but how do we know?”
“Yig Morrow protects him so nothing can happen to him. After all, he’s the only one who really knew the Prophet Berk.”
The Prophet Berk! Berk stiffened The visit with little Daunsog had not been forgotten—far from it!
Now Cog, the keen-eyed young guard, was saying, “For all we know, Daunsog may be dead. If he were alive, do you think he’d let his daughter be sacrificed?”
“Those words will mock you, Cog, when they hang you on a spear. I predict—”
“Our leader speaks, at last! Go ahead, predict!”
“I predict that Daunsa will be found. That her aged father will bless her from his tower. That she and our brilliant master Yig Morrow will share a full day of final devotions—”
“In his bed-chamber.”
“And then, according to the tradition given us by the Prophet Berk—” Berk winced. He was possessed by a wild desire to rush out of hiding and cry down the outrageous falsehoods. He caught a breath of warning from Daunsa at his side. “Hsssh.”
“—that she will enter the Dart of Fire, and the blaze will take her to the waiting arms of Kessa somewhere Beyond—”
“In other words,” Cog commented bitterly, “she’ll give Yig Morrow a day of pleasure—to the glory of Kessa, of course—and then go up in smoke, while our great Yig Morrow looks on and smiles.”
The leader retorted with anger. “I further predict that if Cog utters one more word of blasphemy, he’ll be clubbed over the head and left to die on the desert.”
“To the glory of Kessa, of course,” Cog said.
The leader struck him over the head, struck him again as he fell. The party picked up their torches and moved on. Cog was left lying on the ground, moaning softly with each breath. Berk wondered if he was dying.
“Daunsa!” Berk whispered.
Daunsa had slipped away from him and was hurrying through the darkness to the side of the fallen man.
CHAPTER VI
Cog began to return to consciousness. The sting of the medicines that Berk had applied to his injuries was like a whip. A lash to his fighting spirit. He tried to come to his feet. All he wanted was a chance at the leader of the party, to square accounts. Daunsa tried to quiet him.
“Hush, Cog. They’re coming back. They’ll kill you.”
“I’ll fight the whole bunch, then. Let me up. Who’s this? Who’s this man with you? Where did he come from?”
“It’s the Prophet Berk. He’s come back.”
“I don’t believe it. I don’t believe anything. It’s all a fog of lies. Don’t let them take you, Daunsa. You know your father never believed that was what the Prophet really meant—”
“Stop raving, Cog! They’ll hear you. They’ll kill you!”
“If it’s Berk the Prophet, he’s planned my death already. I never believed—”
Berk took action. He touched the pistol at his side. The ray that penetrated Cog’s body was invisible. The effect was instantaneous. Cog’s speech broke off. His arms came up tight to his body, and he went paralyzed, head to foot.
“He’s not talking! He’s hardly breathing. What happened? What happened, Berk? Is he dying?”
Berk stilled her anguished whispers. He shouldered the frozen burden, and together they hiked through the darkness. Well out of range of the torchlights, they glanced back and knew that the party had stopped to look for the “body of the fallen man.
“They’ll find our tracks,” Daunsa said. “We’ll be overtaken.”
“And if they do—what? Would they be so reckless as to defy the Prophet Berk?” Berk lifted his head. Like it or not, it was his duty to act the prophet.
Through the long night they threaded their way along the trails by the light of two moons. Berk bore the motionless body of Cog on his shoulders.
At dawn they took refuge in a mountain cave that overlooked the city. Berk breathed nostalgically of the scented air, the mellow smells of the sea mingled with the fragrance of “Kessa flowers.” He remembered well the beauty of the quiet gray sea with the pink of dawn on the horizon. But neither from this world or any other did he recall any form of beauty that surpassed the feminine loveliness of Daunsa, lying near him on a bed of grasses near the mouth of the cave, her golden body kissed by the first light of the new day.
She slept from exhaustion, yet her senses were ever alert. Her eyes halfopened, she whispered, “They’re coming, Berk. They’ll find us.”
Berk lifted the inert form of Cog, carried him farther back into the cave. “Watch over him, Daunsa.”
“And you?”
“I have my own plan.”
When the guards clambered down over the path within sight of the cave, Berk stood ready, waiting. He heard their low-spirited grumbling as they approached. They were trying to agree on some suitable lie for a report to Yig Morrow. Not only had they failed to find Daunsa; they had also lost one of their own number—by “accident.” At the sight of Berk, they stopped short.
They stared at him. He stood tall and impervious, his hands at his hips. The versatile little ray pistol at his side meant nothing to them; theirs was the simple world of spears and clubs. It was the keenness of Berk’s face and the other-worldness of his costume that arrested them. His voice, unlike any voice they had ever heard, chilled them with emotions of guilt.
“You return empty-handed, I see.” No one answered.
“And where is your other guard?” They continued to stare.
“Do you not recognize me, a messenger of Kessa?”
The leader of the party tried to shrink back. Berk spoke sharply. “Step forward and listen to my words.”
The edged forward hesitantly.
“Hear me. You seek Daunsa. She went to the desert to seek Berk the Prophet, and to lead him back to the city. I have come. The girl is with me.”
The party murmured and rattled their confusion.
“You wish to see her?” Berk asked. “Come, Daunsa.”
She stood before them, unafraid, radiant, her jewels flashing in the morning sun, her dark eyes glinting defiance.
Berk said, “Tell your ruler that Daunsa is with Berk the Prophet. Tell him she is needed to look after Cog, whom you struck down.”
The leader suddenly unleashed a nervous stream of self-justification. “I had to strike him down. He was saying words that offended Kessa.”
“If Kessa was offended, let Kessa strike him down. Who are you to kill a man for thinking thoughts?”
“He’s dead, then?” the leader stammered. “Where is he?”
“But this is not the end for Cog,” Berk the Prophet said. “Kessa has plans for him. He is not dead. Stand back, all of you, for when he comes to life he will be an angry man.”
The fearful group backed away. Berk, his hands at his hips, worked at the ray pistol. An invisible stream of power shot from it, neutralizing the paralytic grip that held Cog lifeless. Cog’s rigid muscles relaxed. He turned, came up on one elbow, opened his eyes and looked about. He caught sight of the other guards and their leader, and came to his feet in a surge of anger.
“Easy, Cog. You’re not strong enough to fight,” Berk said. There was no need to say it. In his weakened condition Cog could not have given chase. The leader and his party had seen enough. They turned and ran. Three of them beat a trail down into the streets of the city. The leader and one other scrambled back oyer the ledge toward the desert.
Then Cog, his eyes red with unspent furies, turned to face Berk and Daunsa, to ask for an explanation—“In the name of Kessa!”
But it was Daunsa’s words that Berk found most disturbing: “You have brought Cog back to life. You can do the same for my father!”
CHAPTER VII
Whew! This business of being a prophet was a thorn in the flesh. The girl’s request was enough to make him perspire. Her childlike faith! She reached to touch the sleeve of his uniform. “You do have the powers of Kessa.” Berk shook his head. “You have buried your father?” He saw the tears come to her eyes. “Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to visit with him once again. But I can’t ask Kessa to bring him back. I’m sorry.”
There was no more to be said. He would sense the disappointment every time he looked in her eyes for many days to come.