by Joe Zeigler
The Gorge
Joe Zeigler
Copyright 2016 by Joe Zeigler
Published by Arrakis Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved
Including the right of reproduction
In whole or in part in any form.
ISBN-13: 9780692401927
ISBN-10: 069240192X
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For Lanying and Wen Fei
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
—Arthur C. Clarke
Contents
An Inauspicious Start
It’s Over
Danijel’s Demise
Moving On
Liùsaidh’s Survival
Wolf Attack
Liùsaidh Is Spurned
Courting Micaela
Waiting for Danijel
The Traders Arrive
The Breeding
The Morning After
Brisk Business
Soiled Fruit
An Honorable Offer
Resurrection
Threading the Virgins
Snakebite
Divine Intervention
The Proposal
Routing the Raiders
A Feast
Micaela’s Seduction
The Toll
Bleeding the Sheep
Şule Develops
Uggla Is Captured
Flood
Cliff Dwellers
Ohad Scouts for Product
Feast of the Farmers
Corn Trade
Childhood’s End
The Drop
Eijá’s End
Rescue
Discarded
Pursuit
Micaela Adjusts
Lofn
Rejected
Micaela’s Murder
Flanked
Surrounded
The River Rout
Missing Flint
The Raiders Revolt
Obsidian
Ambush
Seduced
Raising Waarrar
Tribute
The Stand-In
Paying for Sins
Balance Restored
Eijá Returns
New Toll
End in Sight
Ohad Gets the Flint
The Lowland
Ohad’s Fall
A New Beginning
Cleaning House
Girl Business
Men
Surveying the River
Humbling the Wolves
Worst Fear Realized
Half Price
Dewii’s Revenge
Everything in One Basket
Micaela’s Return
The Departure
Author’s Note
About the Author
An Inauspicious Start
From far above, the bundle of bodies rolled, fell, hit a ledge, bounced in a fog of red, and slid toward Danijel, then fell and bounced again. Various appendages extended from the ball of human flesh and were torn and battered by the unending impacts with the canyon wall.
It had started more than half a mile higher on the canyon wall, a full mile from the floor. A young girl was just inches from reaching the summit. Her father reached down to pull her up. She loosed her grip on the trail and stretched out her arm, confident.
She missed, her body, extended, froze vertically in midair for what seemed longer than possible. Dismay covered her father’s face as she slowly tilted away from the cliff face and tumbled. Her mother, close behind her, reached out desperately, accomplishing only to be the second to join the fall. Others below, their focus on their own climb, were caught by surprise and gathered into the calamity.
The glue was entanglement, not perfect. Now and again a body was ejected. Then the horror struck another climber trying to cling to the wall and caught them up in the corps.
Danijel, the group’s leader, was last in the column of climbers. A calm voice from the device implanted in the bone behind his ear alerted him. Looking up, he saw that he was about to be next. He scrambled upward toward the danger and the protection of a ledge extending outward from the cliff.
It would be a long drop. No one who caught up could survive. They were screaming, though Danijel could hear nothing. It was happening too fast for the sound to keep up.
Just as he made himself small under the outcropping, he was enveloped in dust and trapped in a cacophony of sound. The bundle of humanity had struck the ledge above and bounced, covering him with a mud of dust and blood.
***
When the group had gathered a week earlier, it was the largest assemblage of people during the entire year—matched only by the numbers in the spring for the migration back to the highlands.
The families joined each fall to migrate to the Lowland—the lower, warmer area below the Midland Smoking Mountains of the Cliff Dwellers—and again in spring to migrate back to the High Canyon. The combined strength of the families, totaling almost two hundred people, enhanced their safety as they passed through the hunting grounds of both man and beast. But no one was entirely safe in this wild and primitive world.
The fall migration brought a time of mating and selection as the young people met and mingled with others outside of their family. For reasons neither understood nor pondered by many, the children entering their first season were not sexually attracted to those closest to them. Sometimes inconvenient, this fact was immutable, and most parents had long given up trying to arrange mates for their children. So they did their best to welcome whomever their child chose. Generally, the male joined the female’s family, though this was not a rule, and he went where needed. If the productive males in his family were dead or disabled, the younger male would remain with his family, and the female would join them.
Procreation was essential to the survival of the People, and the single females were encouraged to find a mate. If they failed, they used other methods to ensure they propagated and replenished the People.
As the People prepared for the annual migration, they had no way of knowing the momentous changes about to beset them. On the forthcoming journey, they would experience change that would affect them, their way of life, and civilization itself.
That realization was for the future. Now they were faced with losing over a dozen of their people on the first day of their journey.
Danijel, normally a calm and tough-minded person not disposed to displays of emotion was stunned. Wiping the dark-red mud from his eyes, he looked down to witness the horror continue. Small clouds of red dust marked each impact. The bottom was too far for him to see the final impact but the imagining was straining his senses. He shivered. His body shook, and he struggled to regain control. At least the escalation had ended with him as he had been bringing up the end of the climb. Still, he thought, this was not supposed to happen. He was the leader. He was responsible. He felt faint and retreated into the fetal position and denial.
“Danijel,” the voice spoke to him. “Control yourself. Get the People out—to the top. Now! Get a grip on yourself! You can grieve later.”
It’s Over
He paused; his mind blank. His consciousness slowly returned like a computer rebooting.
“It’s over!” he shouted. “It is over! Calm yourselves and continue the climb.” He was heard by all regardless of the distance. “We will gather at the top and deal with this then. Right now, focus on the climb.”
They obeyed and finally, the last of them gained the
summit and were milling around in a disorganized manner, speaking in small groups. Danijel and Cuidightheach sat apart, side by side on a fallen tree.
“I want you to gather ten men and go down and bury those people. I will organize the remainder and continue on. I’ll expect you and your men to catch up within two days.”
“Yes, Danijel, it will be done as you say.” He hesitated before continuing awkwardly. “You know the People are scared, worried. Some are talking, and others fear the Sun has forsaken them and more importantly, scorned your leadership.”
There was no sign that Danijel heard him and he continued.
“The families want to go back down to say the prayers and bury their dead.”
“No! No one other than you and your men are to tend the dead. Civilians will slow you down unacceptably, and there would likely be additional casualties,” Danijel said, continuing to ignore Cuidightheach’s caution of the brewing rebellion.
“I will gather the men now and start down immediately.”
***
Cuidightheach’s warning was correct. Ohad, the merchant, was busy spreading discontent and fear. “This disaster does not bode well for our journey,” he said. “Perhaps the leadership of the Jah clan is a mistake, and Sun above does not approve.” He carefully avoided mentioning any names until he received some encouragement. It was not to come.
“I’m not so sure,” Ullah said, “these things happen and have always happened. Perhaps for the best. Sun’s plans are not for us to know.” Ullah was an old man, quiet spoken and well respected and Ohad was worried by his recalcitrance.
Regardless, he pressed on but cautioning himself not to go too far.
“But,” Ohad replied, “we must try to know His will so we can fulfill His plan.”
“To know Sun’s will is ultimately beyond our understanding, and to consider such is profane. Many people believe He speaks to Danijel! And when Danijel speaks it is with the sound of thunder. Some say they have seen Danijel perform miracles. How can we question?”
There was a muttering of agreement from the people listening to the exchange that Ohad didn’t like.
“And, Ohad,” Ullah continued, “are you not of the Jah? The clan that appears from your isolated village to lead us in the migrations every year. Was not Danijel your chosen leader before he was ours?”
“Yes, I am of the Jah and am proud of it. But, a sign from the Sun like the disaster this morning can be ignored only at our peril. I am Jah and loyal to my family; however, the People must be considered above all. Before all, I am of the People.”
“Before God?” Ullah asked.
“Blasphemy.” A whisper from one of the group that had gathered. Murmurs rose from others; murmurs of agreement.
***
Ohad was certainly of the Jah. He dressed and spoke as did the Jah. They were better dressed than most and carried themselves well. They wore carefully sewn leggings, with a thin leather loincloth wrapped around their buttocks and genitals. Long fur coats, laboriously sewn from many animal hides and held closed by a rawhide belt, covered their bodies, reaching to their knees. On their feet, they wore sewn, short, animal-hide boots. They topped the outfits off with a simple fur cap. The Jah stood out among the other clans, most of whom wore a single scrapped animal skin with a hole cut in it for the person’s head. Rather than shoes, they simply tied rawhide strips around their feet or went without. Some had sewn garments. But none matched the wardrobe of the Jah or their deportment. Ohad was always well turned out, and in his case, it was resented.
And, like the Jah he had better verbal skills than most, who communicated through simple gestures and attention-getting noises. They simply made sounds to call attention to their body language and gestures—though, through their exposure to the Jah, their verbal skills had been improving. But Ohad’s slick words made people suspicious of him though not of the other members of the Jah family.
***
Oh boy, this is getting out of hand. It’s time to withdraw and come back at this later–—perhaps when Ullah is not around, Ohad thought.
Ohad opened his mouth to reverse direction. Before he could speak, there was a great silence. The birds were still. Even the wind was still, and the rustling of the long grass was quieted.
“Gather your things,” Danijel’s soft deep voice filled the void such that all could hear. “We will leave this place now and leave this ill time and our sorrows behind us—now.” He had a presence; he occupied the space. He was a quiet man not given to shouting commands—or giving many commands at all, for that matter. The very directness of his words demanded their attention.
Except for Tinga, the midwife, who was unusually independent for a woman. She spoke, “But must we not go below, say our prayers over the dead, prepare them, and bury them?” She spoke, her mouth moved, but nothing was heard.
Ohad just shook his head; “More tricks!” He shouted knowing he would not be heard.
The People started to move, to obey and as quickly as it had descended the silence abated and the normal sound of the canyon rim returned. Ohad was quiet, resigned to lost opportunity, and waved to Micaela to load up.
Later that day the People made their first camp where families from the rim would join the migration.
Cuidightheach his men returned. He spoke to Tinga and Akule, head of the elders, assuring both that prayers had been said and the victims had been buried according to custom. “The friends and family will see the markers and be able to say their words when we return in the spring,” he assured them.
Akule organized a meeting of the families, repeated the assurances, and said the words for the fallen.
Then it was truly over. Life went on as it must, and Ohad’s rebellion flickered out with being confronted.
That may have been a mistake, Ullah thought as Ohad might come back to bite us without being put down more forcefully. But he said nothing. He was a quiet man and knew Danijel to be reluctant to do more than necessary.
***
They spent the next day camped, recovering from the exertion, as other families continued to join them. They were like a river—beginning as a trickle and building slowly as they moved downstream.
They rerigged their loads, based on what they had learned during the climb and the days march. Every year was the same; every year was different.
Then they started the trek through the tall ponderosa pine forest. The way was easy. Underbrush nonexistent, and they were going downhill. They followed the game, which was already moving toward warmer climates ahead of the chill, just as in every season in the past. This part of the journey wasn’t strenuous, but things would change.
By then, Danijel thought, smiling, the People will have toughened up.
The first day in the forest was always a short one. They traveled only three miles before setting camp in a series of small clearings beside the river. They used the remainder of the day for adapting to the new routine, adjusting both their loads and their attitude. Early that morning, a hunting party, led by Danijel, had moved ahead of the main body, both to feed the People and to scout the route.
Danijel’s Demise
It was dusk, the most dangerous time for humans and other prey. The time for carnivores to hunt. Danijel had lagged behind the others as he collected food—his first mistake. But as the leader, he had many mouths to feed. Now he hurried. He had discarded his spear after removing its flint tip, planning to have one of the women find him another shaft tomorrow—his second mistake.
In numbers, the hunt was safe enough. Alone, in the twilight, it was better to run, to run fast, and to run unencumbered. Still, he carried the skin full of meat from the kill; he was reluctant to discard that—his third mistake, and close to one too many.
The small branches along the game trail whipped at him as he jogged up the gorge. The ravine gathered the descending water into a river and provided an easy path for the game and people traversing the area. Both people and animals had used it as a trail for hundreds o
f years, and the more they used it, the easier it became. Tens of thousands of footfalls had smoothed the path, and steps had formed on the steep sections.
The men usually hunted downhill, ahead of the group. The animals, not disturbed by the passing of the large group, were less flighty. The hunters would scout the territory that the group would soon be traveling through. When they were fortunate enough to kill a large animal, the distance back with the weight became shorter as the main group moved closer.
The high walls on either side of the gorge limited Danijel’s path, forcing him to stay on the game trail. With an ambush likely, he had no good choice other than to spend the night in a tree. But he didn’t consider that option. His focus was on getting back to his people and feeding them. Cowardly alternatives were not in his mindset. This was his final mistake.
Danijel was tall, dark haired, and well built—muscular. A man of thirty years, old for his time. Nonetheless, he was well conditioned to the physical requirements of this world. Moving quickly and easily—not even breathing hard—he was making good time toward his people’s encampment up the trail.
***
Danijel was late. Liùsaidh had been primping herself most of the day. She had quickly finished her chores. She knew what was important to a man, and never was it more important than now. She was pregnant, and soon it would begin to show. The pregnancy would ruin her perfect body and narrow waist for the duration of the ordeal. She had to store up favor before she entered the ugly stage, which would last months.
I know what to do, she thought as she slowly untangled her long, thick hair.
Earlier in the day, she had bathed herself in the river. The water had been pleasant, not yet as cold as it would become later in the season. The other women of the household were busy organizing and cleaning the camp in anticipation of Danijel’s return. Liùsaidh smiled to herself. Danijel would come to her and pay little attention to the efforts of the others.
Liùsaidh was working on finding a young girl to serve as her surrogate during the ugly time. The girl needed to be young, beautiful, willing, and easily manipulated. The girl could not become too attached to Danijel nor he to her. Finding a girl who met these requirements was going to be a challenge, but she had a girl in mind to recruit after the Breeding. The Breeding would put the girl in just the right state of mind.
