The man named Gelrut stared at the dead rhinoceros for several long seconds. Some of the others were doing the same, some were staring directly at Lincoln.
The man beside Gelrut pointed his spear at Lincoln and spoke. “Khala-kho-bolup-kho-mesendop. Banap!” The man punctuated his words with sharp clicks, as Skyra and Veenah often did.
Skyra said, “Mesendop-kho-Lincoln-nokho.” She continued with a long string of words in her language.
The two men in the lead moved closer, followed by the others. Their eyes repeatedly shifted between Lincoln, the two sisters, and the woolly rhinoceros.
“Mesendop-kho-Lincoln-nokho!” Skyra repeated. This time her words sounded more frantic, as if she saw something in her tribemates’ intent that Lincoln hadn’t detected. She stepped in front of Lincoln as if to guard him.
Lincoln felt a heavy pit forming in his stomach as he stared over Skyra’s shoulder at Gelrut, whose mannerisms seemed more aggressive than those of the others. The Neanderthal stepped to the side to see around Skyra and looked Lincoln up and down for a few seconds. He then focused intently on Lincoln’s face, as if already dismissing the strange appearance of his fleece shirt, denim jeans, and hiking shoes. Lincoln had lost his bow and even his daypack during the battle with the rhinoceros. Once again, he felt vulnerable.
Gelrut and the man beside him stepped closer, and Skyra lifted a hand to the back of her neck. Lincoln saw her fingers inching toward the blade of her khul, which was still hanging in the sling on her back. She spoke again in her language as her tribemates approached and converged in a semicircle around her, Lincoln, and Veenah.
Veenah let out a soft whimper then began walking away. Several of the Neanderthals darted in front of her and blocked her path.
Both lead men stepped around Skyra and stood on either side of Lincoln. They studied his face and his clothing. Lincoln focused on Gelrut’s eyes, ignoring the other man.
The right side of the Neanderthal’s mouth twitched slightly—he was about to swing out his right arm.
With no time to process alternatives, Lincoln assumed he was about to get hit, so he threw out his right hand, knocking Gelrut’s arm back just as the man was starting to swing it forward.
The Neanderthal blinked at him, then widened his eyes and cried, “El-de-né! Mesendop-kho-kilelo!”
Some of Gelrut’s companions rushed forward, and Lincoln was overwhelmed by a half dozen men and women at once. They slammed him to the rocky ground. Something struck his face from the side, nearly knocking him senseless. Another blow came to his throat. As he gagged and coughed, hands gripped his arms and legs and pulled at his clothing. His shoes were torn from his feet. Someone grabbed the cuffs of his jeans and pulled, lifting most of his body off the ground. The jeans slid down from his waist, over his knees, then over his feet, and he dropped back onto the jagged gravel. His attackers ripped his underwear from his body then peeled off his socks. Gelrut grabbed a fistful of Lincoln’s shirt and yanked on it, obviously trying to tear it from his body. When the fleece fabric didn’t split, the Neanderthal put his knee on Lincoln’s groin and shoved the shirt up over his face. Lincoln was temporarily blinded until someone jerked the shirt off over his head and arms.
He lay naked on the sand and rocks while the Neanderthals stared down at his body. While exchanging words he couldn’t understand, they prodded and pinched his skin. He gasped in pain as someone roughly prodded his scrotum. Completely surrounded by his attackers, he couldn’t even see Skyra or Veenah.
Skyra’s voice rose above the noise. “Khamu-Veenah-rha!”
The Neanderthals crouching over Lincoln turned to look. Several of them got up and moved away, opening the view for Lincoln to see.
“Khamu-Veenah-rha!” Skyra shouted again. She was on her stomach, pinned to the ground by two men and a woman. She was yelling at Veenah, or perhaps at the three women who were holding Veenah to the ground and yanking at the skin garment around her waist.
Gelrut was still kneeling with his knee pressed to Lincoln’s gut, but now he got up and stepped over to Veenah and the women. He exchanged words with the women for at least half a minute. The women got up and pulled Veenah to her feet, then Gelrut grabbed Veenah’s throat.
Skyra grunted and fought to get up. “Rha. Rha!”
Gelrut yelled at Veenah, his voice snarling with aggression.
She struggled and whimpered, but she didn’t speak back.
The man spoke again, but still he didn’t get a reply. He got to his knees, pulled up Veenah’s waist-skin, and plunged his hand between her legs.
Veenah cried out. Her knees buckled, but the women held her up.
Gelrut got to his feet. He put his hand to his nose, sniffing it, then he held it up for the others to see. Blood had stained two of his fingers red.
Low grumbles came from the other Neanderthals, including those who were still holding Lincoln down.
“Rha,” Skyra screamed. “Rha!”
Gelrut wiped his fingers on Veenah’s hair. Moving deliberately, he reached behind his head and pulled out his khul.
Skyra began thrashing wildly. She got her left leg free and kicked one of her captors. She pulled her right arm free and began pummeling the woman holding her left arm. The man who had lost his grip on her arm grabbed her by the hair and quickly regained control.
“Rha, Gelrut-Una-Loto!” Skyra screamed.
Gelrut shot a glance at Skyra then turned his attention back to Veenah. He hesitated for a few seconds then swung the khul. The stone blade crushed Veenah’s skull with a sickening crack.
The women holding Veenah stepped away, and her body collapsed into a heap.
“Motherfucking savages!” Lincoln growled. He fought to pull free, earning himself a sharp blow to his temple. Dazed, he lifted his head and turned to Skyra.
No longer struggling, Skyra stared vacantly at her birthmate’s body.
15
Ilmekho
47,659 years ago - Day 3
Skyra’s birthmother’s skin was warm and smelled like gentleness and security. Skyra loved suckling her mother’s breasts, even though she now had teeth and could eat berries and mashed reindeer flesh. She wanted to keep suckling forever, but her birthmother had told her and Veenah they would have to stop when the cold season came.
Skyra sighed and drew up closer to her birthmother’s belly and breast. Without turning her head, she looked over at her birthmate. Veenah was eagerly suckling the other breast as if she were starving. That was the way Veenah always ate, and Skyra had found it fun to tease her about it.
Veenah gazed back at her with sleepy eyes, then she held out a finger and poked Skyra’s bulging cheek, causing a trickle of milk to run down their birthmother’s belly.
Skyra grabbed her twin’s hand to make her stop. Skyra and Veenah intertwined their fingers, finding the same comfort in each other that they found in their birthmother’s skin. Skyra waited for Veenah to close her eyes, then she let her own eyelids droop shut. Veenah’s fingers clenched her hand, and Skyra never wanted to let go.
Something slapped Skyra’s forehead. The blow hurt, so she clamped her eyes shut. Something hit her again, this time even harder. She whimpered and slowly opened her eyes. One side of her face was in the gravel. There was no soft skin here, no gentleness or security. She felt her waist-skin being shoved up, then rough hands groping her groin. Another whimper escaped from her throat.
A voice said, “Skyra-rha-wakhum-bolup-mafeem.” Skyra is not tainted by bolup men.
Other voices spoke, some arguing about what to do, others asking questions about the dead woolly rhino. Skyra stopped listening. She just gazed at Veenah. Her birthmate was not suckling a warm, full breast. Her fingers were not intertwined with Skyra’s. She was dead, her face no longer the shape it had been only a few breaths past.
Skyra felt like a part of her own body was missing.
A familiar humming sound interrupted Skyra’s thoughts. A scream came from someone nearby as the humming grew
louder. Skyra knew that sound. Amlun, Durnin, and Thoka were still holding her down, but she managed to lift her head and saw the sound was coming from Ripple. The creature had come out of hiding and flown into the midst of the Una-Loto hunters. It was hovering within arm’s reach of Gelrut.
“I warned you about this,” Ripple said in the Una-Loto language. “I warned you never to harm Skyra or Veenah. I told you I would return if you harmed them. I told you I would punish the Una-Loto tribe. Now I am angry. I am going to take Skyra and the bolup away from this place. If you interfere, I will destroy all of you. Do you understand me?”
Skyra had taught Ripple a few words of the Una-Loto language, only a few. How had the creature learned to speak so many words?
Ripple switched to English. “Skyra, get up. Lincoln, get up. We are leaving now.”
Skyra’s attention was drawn to Vall, one of the men who had often beaten her and Veenah. He was shifting his eyes slightly, as if watching Ripple but thinking of something else. He raised his hand to his neck. Skyra knew then what he was going to do, but she couldn’t find her voice. She could only stare as Vall pulled his khul from its sling, grabbed the handle with his other hand, and swung it at Ripple. Vall’s stone blade struck Ripple’s shell with a clack. Ripple wobbled in the air for a breath, and Vall struck again. This time, Ripple flipped over and dropped to the ground. The creature’s feet didn’t even pull up into its shell—it just lay there, not moving.
Vall lifted his khul again and landed another fierce blow. He stood over Ripple’s body. “I do not know what you are, creature, but I have taken your strength. You will not destroy Una-Loto tribe. I should have killed you before when you came to our camp.”
The other Una-Loto hunters began talking at once, praising Vall for his fearless attack on the creature.
Gelrut’s voice rose above the others. “Silence!” He waited for the hunters to stop speaking. “Vall has killed the strange creature, and we will not fear it again. I will kill the strange bolup, then there will be nothing for us to fear. We will take food, bones, and skin from the woolly rhino and carry them to Una-Loto camp. Our hunt is over. Skyra has returned to us, and she has killed this woolly rhino. After our work is finished, Skyra will tell stories of what she has done in the days since she left Una-Loto camp. We will eat and celebrate for six sunrises before we hunt again. Today is a good day for Una-Loto tribe.”
Vall’s voice then said, “Yes, this is a good day for Una-Loto. We have lost Veenah, but Skyra is back, and she is in her ilmekho. This, too, is good for Una-Loto tribe. I will take Skyra to my shelter, and I will be the first to honor her ilmekho.”
“No, Vall, it is I, Gelrut, who will be the first to honor her ilmekho. It is I who will take her to my shelter. If you wish to challenge me for Skyra, I will accept your challenge. I will even allow you to choose the terms of your challenge.”
“Aheeee… at-at-at-at-at,” Vall laughed. “Yes, Gelrut, I will challenge you, and it will be a festive day of challenge, after many festive days of eating and telling stories. Kill the strange bolup so we may begin our work.”
Skyra heard Gelrut chuckle. “At-at-at-at.” Leather footwraps crunched the gravel as he stepped closer to Lincoln.
Skyra stared at her birthmate’s fractured face. Veenah had known she couldn’t return to Una-Loto tribe. Skyra should have known too. She and Veenah should have gone with Lincoln to the place where they would not have to fear being killed. Maybe there really was such a place, but it was too late now.
Lincoln’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You going to kill me while I’m being held down, you ugly bastard? You’re a goddamn coward!”
Skyra pushed herself up to her hands and knees. Amlun, Durnin, and Thoka, now barely restraining her, allowed her to shrug free from their grip. “Rha, Gelrut!” she said. “This strange bolup can teach us. He has a weapon that throws tiny spears with great force. You have seen these tiny spears, Gelrut. You know they can kill. He calls this weapon a bow. This weapon will help Una-Loto tribe hunt and fight raiding bolups. You must allow him to show us how the weapon works. We can learn to make these weapons. You must allow him to show us.”
Gelrut, his khul stained with Veenah’s blood, gazed at Lincoln then turned to Skyra. “He is a bolup. I must kill him.”
She got to her feet. “He must die, but I will kill him myself. It is my right to do so, as he intended to take me to his tribe to bear bolup children. First you must let him show us how to make and use this weapon called a bow.” Skyra had never told a lie to her tribemates, other than in her campfire stories. When they found out, they might not kill her because she was now in ilmekho, but they would push her face into a campfire until her skin burned off.
Gelrut seemed to think about this. Then he shoved Tamlil out of the way and stepped to Lincoln’s side. He grabbed Lincoln’s arm with one hand and yanked him to his feet.
“Skyra, what’s going on?” Lincoln asked. “Are they going to kill me next?”
Skyra ignored him. “Do not kill him,” she said in her own language. “I will get the weapon.” She stepped over to where Lincoln had dropped his bow then held it up for him to see. “Lotup-afu-nabul?” Where are your tiny spears?
Lincoln just shook his head, so Skyra held the bow up and pretended to pull the string back.
He looked around, then pointed. The leather sheath of arrows was near the tree the rhino had destroyed. Skyra picked it up then handed the bow and sheath to Lincoln. “Makhol-Una-Loto-melu-fusa.” Show Una-Loto tribe how you kill.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
She pointed to the arrows and again pretended to pull back the bow string.
Lincoln took out an arrow then put the sheath over his shoulder. He positioned the arrow on the bow. “You want me to pull it back?”
Skyra pointed to the dead rhino and went through the shooting motion yet again.
Lincoln let out a long breath. “Okay.” He pulled the arrow and string back then released. Thonk. The arrow hit the rhino’s haunch, penetrating the creature’s thick hide almost to the arrow’s blunt end.
Gelrut and some of the others stepped over to the rhino. Gelrut tapped the arrow with his finger then pulled it out. He stared at the blood-stained shaft and stone tip. “Yes, this strange bolup will show us how to make this weapon and these tiny spears.”
Skyra said, “You are wise, Gelrut. Skyra will go with you to your shelter for my ilmekho.”
Gelrut bared his teeth with pleasure.
“My challenge will determine who is first,” Vall said.
“I will also challenge Gelrut,” said Durnin.
Gelrut bared his teeth even more and let out another chuckle.
Skyra turned to Lincoln and spoke in English. “You do not have footwraps upon your feet, but we are going to run. Now, use your bow to kill Gelrut, then we will run.”
“El-de-né!” cried one of her tribemates.
“What language are you speaking?” Gelrut demanded.
Lincoln said, “Skyra, are you serious?”
She kept her gaze leveled at Gelrut but spoke to Lincoln. “You must kill Gelrut now!”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Lincoln reach over his shoulder and take out another arrow.
Gelrut took a step toward Skyra, lifting his khul slightly. “What language are you speaking?” he asked again.
“Why do you talk like the strange bolup?” Vall added.
Lincoln’s hand moved again, putting the arrow into its place on the bow.
Someone grabbed Skyra’s arm from behind. “You must stop speaking, birthchild of Sayleeh.”
Skyra did not turn around, but she knew the voice to be that of Bolyu, one of the few Una-Loto women who had been kind to Skyra’s birthmother even after the rest of the tribe knew that Skyra and Veenah were different from other nandups.
Bolyu said, “Soon you can tell us how the bolup made you talk this way, then we will understand. But now you must stop, or you will join your birth
mate in death.”
Lincoln started lifting his bow.
Skyra saw Gelrut’s eye twitch. He was about to turn and look at Lincoln. “Gelrut!” she shouted. “Tekne-té-Veenah-fofiyu-meleen.” Veenah’s strength now lives in me.
Gelrut’s head snapped to the side. Skyra glimpsed the arrow passing through his face then embedding itself in Vall’s throat. Vall staggered back, choking. He pulled the arrow from his neck then fell onto his back.
Gelrut was still standing, so Skyra pulled away from Bolyu’s grip and reached behind her head for her khul. The weapon was gone.
“Skyra, let’s go!” Lincoln shouted.
She looked at Gelrut’s face, aware that her other tribemates were now shouting and moving steadily toward Lincoln. Gelrut seemed confused. Blood was gushing from holes on either side of his face just below each eye. He coughed, and blood spewed from his nose. Still, he remained on his feet. Skyra lunged forward to grab Gelrut’s khul from his hand, intending to kill him with his own weapon. He growled and pushed her away, then he raised his khul to strike.
Skyra hesitated. As much as she wanted to kill Gelrut herself, now was not the time. He would surely die soon anyway. She turned to Lincoln. “Run now!”
He was trying to place another arrow on his bow, but he gave up and started fleeing for the hillside, pausing only to grab one of his strange footwraps.
Skyra turned to her other tribemates. They were confused now, but in a few breaths they would pursue and kill Lincoln. She shouted in the Una-Loto language, “I will kill the bolup! He took me and forced me to speak his language, so it is my right to kill him myself.” She pointed to the dead rhino. “I killed this creature for Una-Loto tribe. This is the same rhino that took the strength of my birthmother Sayleeh. Take the rhino’s food, bones, and skin. I will return to you and celebrate this kill and my ilmekho. Una-Loto!”
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