Hope of Earth

by Piers Anthony

  He experimented and found that he could still kick hard with his feet without suffering unduly. So he did that, and made slow progress toward the shore.

  It was almost dark by the time he waded onto land. Mosquitos formed a cloud around him. But he knew how to handle them. He searched until he found one of the plants that repelled them. He took a leaf, chewed on it to break down its surface, and rubbed it across his face and body. The mosquitos still hovered, and landed, but no longer bit; they couldn’t get by the juice of the plant.

  He saw no sign of the others. If they had come to shore, it wasn’t here. He heard nothing: no sounds of camping, no calling. He knew better than to walk the shore alone at night; his paddle would serve as staff and club, but there were creatures who could come at him in the darkness.

  His side was aching, now that he was out of the water, the effort of walking aggravated it. He had to get into a protected place where he could rest and sleep safely. Maybe the others would come looking for him next day, or maybe he would see the boats passing. He knew they wouldn’t simply let him go without a search; the family always looked out for its own, ever since they had been orphaned four years ago. But sometimes they did get separated, and had to look out for themselves.

  He found a good tree, and lifted his hands to haul himself up into it. But his side hurt intolerably, and he couldn’t. He would have to find one much easier to climb, or stay on the ground. He didn’t like that.

  Bry retied his loin-band and walked along the beach, peering at trees as the darkness shrouded the forest, but he didn’t see anything suitable. The beach curved, until he was heading west; he must be at the mouth of a great river. He dipped his hand in the water and tasted it: yes, it was fresh. That was good. But fresh water was where the crocodiles were, and they did not necessarily stay in the water if they saw prey close by. He had to find a good tree.

  Maybe there would be a path leading inland. He did not want to go far from the shore, but he had to find a place to safely rest and sleep. The others would know to look for him along a path; people never strayed far from paths, because paths gave direction and competence to their travels.

  Then he saw something. It was an outrigger boat, similar to the ones his family used, but smaller. Then there was a figure walking toward it—a woman, in a brief skirt. He had found his family! “Ho!” he called gladly, walking toward her.

  The woman looked his way—and he realized by her stance and manner that she wasn’t anyone he knew. She was a stranger, and that could mean another kind of trouble. He stopped.

  Then the woman walked toward him. She was lithe and lovely, every motion elegant. She had flowing brown hair and eyes to match. Her breasts were perfectly formed and balanced. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman he could remember seeing. He was eleven, not yet of age to get serious about women, but he was stunned by this one.

  “You’re a boy,” she said, as if surprised. Her accent and inflections were strange, but clear enough. So she was not from a close tribe. “What are you doing alone? Where is your family?”

  “The storm—the boats—I don’t know.”

  She smiled understanding, bringing a thrill to his pulse. “And your ribs are bruised. You floated in with the paddle. I thought at first it was a spear. Who are you?”

  “Bry,” he said. “Of Sam’s family.”

  She cocked her head, thinking. “I don’t know that name. But you could have come from beyond our range, in the boat. I am Anne, of Hugh’s family. We have two children.”

  So she was married and with children: no prospect for romance even if he had been of age. It was amazing how well preserved she was. “I was looking for a tree for the night,” he explained. “One I could get into without climbing.”

  “Lift your arm,” she said. When he obeyed, raising it as far as he could before the pain increased, she stepped close and touched his bruised ribs. Her pressure brought a surge of pain, but also pleasure, for even her fingers were beautiful. “Not broken, I think,” she said. “But that will take time to heal. You will not be able to paddle for a moon or more.”

  “Yes,” he agreed wanly.

  “Come with me.” She turned and walked away. Her buttocks under the skirt were as well formed as the rest of her. She was one healthy woman throughout.

  He followed, glad that she knew of a suitable tree. But she led him to a path, and followed the path to a shelter built on a rocky outcropping. It was her house.

  Two naked children emerged: a boy of about five, and a girl of about three. They stared at Bry.

  “This is Bry, of Sam’s family,” Anne said. “He will stay with us while he looks for their boats.” The children smiled in tentative welcome. “And this is my son Chip,” Anne continued, indicating the boy, who lifted a hand in formal greeting. “And my daughter Mina.” The little girl smiled again, this time brilliantly. She had black hair and dark eyes, and was a beautiful creature in her own right. “Get him some fruit.”

  Both children scrambled back into the house, and emerged a moment later with ripe fruits. Bry accepted them gladly, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. Mina touched his hand for a moment, staring into his eyes. He was taken aback; there was something special about her.

  Anne led him into the house. “Make him a bed,” she told the children, and again they scrambled.

  He was to stay in their house? “But you don’t know me!” he protested. “I am foreign.”

  Anne turned her gaze directly on him. “Do you seek to harm any of us?” she inquired. In that moment he realized that she was aware of her power over him. His slack expression must have given him away. He could neither hurt nor deceive such a lovely woman, ever. Or those she protected.

  “Never,” he said sincerely, and all three of them laughed.

  “Mina decided you were all right,” Chip said. “She knows.”

  The little girl had made the decision? Certainly Bry bore this family no malice, and much appreciated their help, but this was strange indeed. How could they be sure she wasn’t mistaken about a stranger?

  “She never is,” Chip said, and they laughed again at Bry’s expression. “We got her from a dead place, and she knows the spirits.”

  “A dead place?”

  “She had been left to die,” Anne said. “We took her, and the spirits have been kind to us ever since.”

  Bry looked at Mina again. Could it be? Flo had left her first baby, because she had no man and couldn’t support a child then. Three years ago. The time was right. Yet that had been far away, south along the coast. So it couldn’t be. Yet if he looked at the child that way, he could see an aspect of his big sister in her. Flo had been attractive when younger, before she got fat, and the dark hair matched. How nice it would be if Flo’s child had joined this nice family!

  Mina met his gaze again, smiling enigmatically. “Maybe,” she said.

  This was eerie.

  “Bed’s ready,” Chip announced. “Try it.”

  Obligingly, Bry lay on the leafy bed. It was quite comfortable. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. He bit into the fruit, relaxing.

  He woke in complete darkness, realizing that he had slept without even finishing his fruit; it was still in his hand. So he finished the fruit, and went back to sleep.

  In the morning he saw that there was one more in the house: a man. That would be Hugh. He must have been out hunting until late.

  Hugh was already awake, and beckoned as he saw Bry stir. Bry got up and followed him outside, leaving the others asleep.

  “You have a problem,” Hugh said abruptly. “We have a problem too. Mina thinks you are the answer to ours. Perhaps we can be the answer to yours.”

  “I need to find my family,” Bry said, somewhat diffident in the presence of the husband of as lovely a creature as Anne. Hugh must have some very strong ability that didn’t show, because he was ordinary in appearance and manner. “And my ribs make me weak.”

  “Yes. We feel you should not travel alone at this time
. Your ribs must heal. You can watch the water for boats from here as well as from anywhere, and it is safer. What we offer you is a safe place to stay while you heal and look. Foraging and fishing are good, so you will not go hungry.”

  “But I thought—only for the night.”

  “Mina says it will be half a moon before your boats come. They must make repairs, and there were other injuries.”

  “But she’s a little child! How can she know?”

  “Have you looked into her eyes?”

  Bry spread his hands, acknowledging refutation. That little child was like none other he had encountered. “What you offer me is generous beyond anything owed a friend, let alone a stranger who can’t work hard to help,” Bry said. “What is there I can do for you in return?”

  “We are entertainers. We make music and dance, and are rewarded with gifts. We travel in a circuit along the banks of the rivers, from family to family, staying a few days with each, teaching them what we do. When we finish, we have only a short distance to go to return to our house here, which is centrally located. Then we relax for a moon, before starting again. The children travel with us, and help in what we do.”

  “They dance?”

  “And more. But word has spread of an ailment that is passing through families. It makes children sicken and die. We do not want our children to be visited by these malign spirits.”

  “But how—?”

  “The spirits seem to move from child to child. They do not move between families that have no contact. So if our children do not go there, they will not sicken. But we are a small family, and have had no one else to protect and care for our children. Now you are here. We ask you to do that.”

  “But I am a child myself!” Bry protested. “And with my weakness, I can not protect them.”

  “Mina believes you can. The spirits give her information. But your boats may appear in half a moon, while our circuit will require a full moon. We ask you not to leave until our return. You will not be able to paddle well then anyway, so perhaps it is not too great a sacrifice.”

  Bry was somewhat awed by the prospect. “If you think I can do it, I will do it until you return. I know my family will understand.”

  Hugh clapped him on the shoulder, with a very light touch so that the ribs did not react with a jolt of pain. “Then it is agreed. The children will show you where things are and what to do. And it should not be bad. Mina said there is one bad time, and a lot of work, but that the rest is good. And she wants to meet your sister.”

  Did she mean Flo? What a weird business! “It is agreed,” he said.

  “Now we shall celebrate the agreement in our fashion,” Hugh said. He brought out a wooden flute and began to play.

  Bry was amazed. The man was good—very good. The notes fairly tumbled over each other, beautifully, like miniature cascades in a steep stream, making a melody as intricate and lovely as the spirits of nature themselves. Bry had heard music before, many times, but had never known that it could be that beautiful. The man was a true master.

  There was a stir at the house. Anne emerged, in a different skirt, this one made from grass tied together at the waist. She was dancing, her bare feet stepping to the music of the flute, and when she spun the grass flung out and up, showing her thighs, and her hair spread similarly, showing her dainty ears. What a woman she was!

  Behind her came Chip, his legs marching, his hand beating time on a little drum he carried. And Mina, in her own little grass skirt, rising to her toes and spinning just as her mother did.

  The three of them made their dancing way down to the spot where Hugh was playing, and finished with an accelerated cadence of drum beat and feet, and a double whirl that made the skirts rise until they were almost flat disks around the woman and the girl. The effect was not only artistic, it was marvelously seductive; Anne surely had devastating impact on grown men, despite being clearly beyond her maiden stage. Then suddenly everything stopped, together, and all was still.

  Bry realized that his mouth was hanging open. Never before had he seen an act as coordinated and beautiful as that. They were all so good at what they did!

  “Of course the children are still learning,” Hugh said. He played a sudden riff of notes, and Chip brought out a little flute of his own and was able to play only a few of them. Anne moved her hips as if her torso had turned to liquid, then did a high kick with her toe reaching the level of her shoulder; Mina wriggled her body and kicked as high as her waist. That was still better than Bry could have done, on any of it. Once again it made him realize that he would be a man before long.

  “Now we must be off,” Hugh said. He and Anne fetched hide packs from the house, slung them on their backs, lifted staffs, and walked down to the river.

  “Already?” Bry asked, dismayed.

  Mina set her little hand on his. “They will return in a moon,” she said reassuringly, as the two hauled their boat into the water, put the packs into it, and changed the staffs for paddles. They started paddling efficiently, and soon disappeared upstream. The children waved them bye-bye, smiling bravely.

  But in this, too, Mina wasn’t perfect. Bry saw the tears in her eyes. He put his right arm around her and squeezed reassuringly, though he had substantial doubts of his own.

  “They don’t want us to catch fever and die,” Chip explained. Then he swallowed and changed the subject. “Let’s fish.”

  There were spears in the house. This was something Bry did know. They went down to the river’s edge and waited with spears poised. When a fish swam close, Bry stabbed suddenly with the point of the wooden pole. His ribs gave him a jolt of pain, but he was lucky: he speared the fish. He brought it up flopping. He pulled it off and set it in the basket Mina provided, then used a stone edge to sharpen the point again.

  Chip tried for the next fish, with his smaller spear. He missed, and missed again, but kept trying. “Aim where the fish will go, not where it is,” Bry suggested, and next time Chip managed to snag one, off-center. It was another lucky thrust, but it did make it look as if Bry’s advice had helped. The truth, he knew, was that no one could be sure of spearing a fish with any particular thrust; much patience was necessary, and if every third or fourth thrust nabbed a fish, that was good.

  The children showed him where the best foraging was, along the edge of the forest, where there were fruit trees, nut trees, berry bushes, and herbs. The grubs were fat in fallen wood, too. Paths went to all the good places, showing the truly human nature of this region. It was evident that they would be eating well; the parents had selected this site for its ready access to food, and had prepared it well.

  In the evening they gathered wood and brought up the fire. They didn’t need it for heat, but for dryness and comfort. They stared into it, and Bry told stories of his family to entertain the children. They were fascinated by the way the six children had been orphaned by a terrible storm, being on land while their parents tried to bring the boats to shore. Sudden storms were the bane of shore boaters. Bry told how the eldest, Sam and Flo, had assumed the job of the lost parents, and after lean times the six of them had finally gotten established as a wider family itself. But he didn’t speak of Flo’s rape and the child she left; the implications were too uncertain.

  At last, talked out, they slept. Chip made a point of sleeping in his own bed, but Mina moved close enough to catch Bry’s hand for reassurance. She was a remarkable little girl, but also, after all, very young.

  Three days later it happened. Mina woke tense, looking fearfully around. Bry saw nothing, but her nervousness made him nervous too. She was too much in tune with the spirits; her fear might be groundless, but Bry did not care to gamble on that. So he went out and checked all around the house, looking for the tracks of predators or for anything unusual in the water. He saw nothing.

  Still, he was watchful as Chip and Mina emerged from the house. He knew it wouldn’t help to ask her what she was afraid of; her awareness was not of such a nature. What she knew came to her on its
own, and could not be consciously evoked. The spirits could not” be commanded by living folk.

  They had been improving on their fish spearing, day by day; the fish were good when roasted on the fire, and even when they didn’t manage to spear any, it was fun trying. The days tended to get dull, because they never ranged far from the house. Dullness was preferable to danger, while the adults were away. So as the day warmed, they took spears and basket and went to the water’s edge.

  But the fish were slow in coming. There was only a mossy log floating slowly by. They waited patiently; once the log passed, the fish would fill in the space. Chip squatted, spear posed, and Bry stood behind him, watching.

  Suddenly the log opened a huge mouth and lunged at them. Mina screamed almost before it happened. It was a crocodile! Chip, closest to it, lurched to his feet, lost his balance, and fell back on the sand. The narrow snout swung toward him.

  Bry brought his spear up and plunged it at the monster. He was only dimly conscious of the pain at his ribs as he did so; the threat was making it fade. The point bounced off the tough green snout without doing any apparent damage. He realized that it was foolish to strike at the hard parts; he needed to go for the vulnerable ones. So he jabbed at the nearer eye. But it was hard to score on; the creature was moving, and the eye was small, and when the point touched it, it closed, and the spear slid on past it.

  But at least it was a distraction, for the crocodile did not snap at Chip. The boy scrambled away, leaving his small spear behind. Mina’s screaming was continuous in the background;this was surely what she had feared, without knowing its identity.

  They retreated from the water’s edge, getting clear of the menace. The river had become fearsome, but the land represented safety, in this case.

  However, the crocodile was not giving up. Perhaps realizing that these creatures were after all vulnerable on land, it crawled on out of the water, orienting malevolently on Bry. He did not dare turn his back on it, and he was afraid that if he backed away too fast, he would trip and fall. So he kept jabbing at the eyes, forcing the heavy eyelids to close, momentarily baffling the thing.