He examined the ground around the body. Dried blood stained the stalk stubble, now flattened by dozens of heavy bare feet.
Ice Men.
Dozens of tracks emerged from the forest to the southeast, indicating a large clan probably led by a powerful dominant male. Fu Xi knew they were probably driven south by hunger.
A stick and a leather ball lay several paces downhill from the body. The boy played in the field. He watched them rush out of the forest and didn’t sense the danger until it was too late. They butchered him on the spot.
Why should he have been afraid? Nushen had never suffered an attack since the dawn of time.
The tracks led into the village.
They are still here, still feeding. Perhaps the Holy Mothers closed the gates before the Ice Men overwhelmed them.
The silence blanketing the village told him otherwise. He looked up the mountain at his mother’s temple.
Where is she?
He slowly rolled his neck around, listening to each joint pop and letting the sound calm him. The lessons of the Olmec war masters, the men who taught him the ways of the White and Red Swords, came back to him. He never thought he’d have to employ their skills within the confines of his own village.
He flicked the sword twice, turned, and reentered the forest. Without a sound, he made his way west and then north inside the tree line. Fu Xi climbed the embankment and emerged from the darkening woods onto the road leading into the village. He would not steal into his village like a thief. He would enter Nushen the way he did after every journey. The last of the sun warmed his back as he followed his long shadow home.
***
A fresh snow drift quickly formed at the mouth of the cave and began to cover fresh tracks leading up to the entrance. I recognized them as the footprints of the clan males. They had dragged something heavy and bloody into the cave.
I was pleased the men had a successful hunt.
Several months previous I discovered this clan of seven males and two females in this very cave, huddled together and starving. They would be my first attempt to bring the Ice Men out of darkness, as I had done with the Tall Men of the south centuries ago.
Naturally, they feared me at first. The clan accepted me as their leader when I subdued their dominant male. They worshipped me as a god when I taught them the art of fire.
At the cave’s entrance a roaring fire defied the north wind, but oddly, without a lookout huddled over it. I climbed up to the ledge at the cave’s entrance, which overlooked the ice fields in the valley below. Several blazing fires burned throughout the cave, creating a trail of light leading deep into the bowels of the earth. I removed my heavy furs and shook off the snow.
The main chamber was curiously empty.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
The red dirt trail widened and became a neatly manicured lane covered with white crushed pebbles. It stretched about eighty yards to the first huts that flanked either side of the road. Only a blackened heap remained of the second hut on the left, home of Zuchanshi, the midwife. Several huts on the north side of the lane were also burned to the ground. A small fire smoldered in the center of the road in front of Tiejiang’s hut. Fu Xi looked beyond the fire toward the convent.
The convent’s ornate cedar gates were askew, as if one of the young acolytes had innocently forgotten to close them in her rush to supper. The last of Fu Xi’s hope vanished. He tightened his grip on his sword.
Something caught his eye. The Ice Man emerged from a hut and walked toward the fire with a distinctive side-to-side sway. The creature had all the traits of the Ice Men: barrel chest, stooped shoulders, short stocky legs, sloped forehead and bold lower jaw. It was naked, covered only with a light mat of curly black hair. Unaware, it squatted next to the fire with its back to Fu Xi. The Ice Man picked up something Fu Xi had taken for a piece of wood. Fu Xi recognized it as an arm when the creature took a large bite out of it.
Suddenly, the creature stopped gnawing on the arm and grunted. It arched its back and passed excrement in the middle of the well-manicured lane. When it finished, it promptly returned to its feast.
Fu Xi could take no more. Wrath boiled in his chest as he slashed the sword through the air to get the monster’s attention.
It dropped the arm and spun around, stepping in its own filth. Dried blood, ashes and grime streaked the creature’s body. Its belly distended in grim testimony to recent feasts. It pulled back its lips and snarled a warning, revealing strong yellow teeth; teeth made for crushing and ripping, but incapable of speech.
The monster howled and raised its thickly muscled arms, trying to appear as large and fearsome as possible.
Fu Xi made no move to attack. He waited patiently for the rest of the monsters to emerge in response to the warning cry.
And come they did.
Dozens stumbled from the huts and out of the shadows. They didn’t wear their usual heavy animal skins. The warm Valley of Nushen was a far cry from the northlands. Some carried spears; thick, gnarled sticks with crude flint tips.
The sight of the flint spears filled Fu Xi with shame. He taught the Ice Men that deadly craft long ago.
***
The men’s furs were laid next to the central fire to dry and their spears leaned against the wall. The blood-streaked flint tips and shafts further testified to the hunt’s success. I mused as to what kind of animal they had slain. It was probably a reindeer, a week’s worth of meat at best. It was imperative I lead them to the mammoths if they wanted to eat through the long winter.
I hefted one of the spears. Like fire, they learned this craft quickly. A crude, but effective flint tip wedged into a notched wooden shaft and secured with raw sinews. The sinews were not toughened by boiling, like those of the Tall Men’s spears, therefore not as strong. I hadn’t taught the Ice Men the art of pottery yet, so they could not boil water. It could take several generations before they managed that craft. Thus far, I’d been unable to teach them to throw their spears. I supposed it was due to their bulky shoulders and thick necks. However, an Ice Man was significantly stronger than a Tall Man and could bring down a woolly rhino with a single, well-placed thrust.
I heard noises and suspected the clan was butchering the kill deep in the cave. It was imperative that they keep as much of the smell of blood inside the cave as possible not to attract wolves or bears.
I walked toward the back of the cave, curious about what game my children had secured for their meal.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
Fu Xi stood relaxed with his legs slightly apart, both hands on the hilt of his sword like a cane. His eyes narrowed as he counted the horde and calculated his attack.
The Ice Men lined up across the narrow road and slowly approached. They shrieked and barked like a pack of hyenas confronting a lion, baring their teeth and shaking their weapons. Fu Xi had his back to the sun, forcing them to squint. They advanced half the distance before they hesitated.
They are uncertain why I don’t retreat in the face of overwhelming numbers.
The one Fu Xi waited for finally pushed his way to the front. The largest Ice Man slapped the smaller ones to the side. The pack leader’s greasy black hair tumbled over his shoulders and back. He communicated to his horde with animal-like snorts, barks and grunts.
They sound like Olmecs. That thought further stirred Fu Xi’s rage.
The leader pushed the two nearest Ice Men toward Fu Xi. One had a spear, the other didn’t.
The leader wants to test me before he commits to battle.
The spearman attacked first, running headlong at Fu Xi, shaft outstretched. The unarmed one followed closely in his wake.
Fu Xi waited patiently until the first charging Ice Man almost reached him. At the last second, he pivoted left and flashed his sword up to the right. The creature’s momentum carried it past Fu Xi as its spear fell to the ground in three clean parts.
In a blur, Fu Xi spun into the path of t
he second Ice Man. Its head thudded onto the gravel and rolled into the grass. The creature’s body stopped and stood for a few seconds before it crumpled to the ground.
Bewildered, the first Ice Man examined the shaft stump still in his hands and then considered the head of its compatriot lying in the grass. That’s when it noticed a thin red line along its abdomen, just below its hairy belly button. Dumfounded, it reached down and touched a single drop of blood trickling from the line. The line quickly thickened and entrails suddenly tumbled to the creature’s feet. It shrieked and fell to its knees, trying to gather its innards from the dust.
Fu Xi calmly examined the sword. Perfectly clean except for a sliver of blood on the leading edge, the orichalcum seemed eager for the taste of vengeance.
The lion slowly approached the hyenas.
The creatures bumped into one another as they fell back. Their leader howled, trying to frighten Fu Xi and stir his pack’s courage, but the cries of the Ice Man thrashing on the ground overwhelmed him.
I once called them my children.
Fu Xi exploded into their ranks, a whirlwind of righteous fury. They swarmed him, but Fu Xi remained a blur, effortlessly eluding their clumsy grasps. Not a single hand touched his garment. Clubs and spears met only air and metal.
The leader fell first, his right leg cleanly severed below the hip. One after another, the Ice Men crumpled until the pebbles glistened with blood. Limbs and intestines littered the ground, but not one Ice Man died immediately. Fu Xi wanted them to suffer for hours in immobilized agony.
Fu Xi hardened his heart. This day there would be no mercy.
After only a few moments, the remaining handful broke off and fled into the darkening forest. Breathing relaxed and forehead dry, Fu Xi ceased his attack with legs slightly apart and bent, red sword extended in mid-swing. Not a drop of blood found its way onto his garment.
The dying Ice Men surrounded him like an ant mound. Fu Xi leapt over the quivering bodies and calmly pursued the survivors into the trees. Ice Men were at home in the wide open expanses of the glaciers and tundra. The closed-in forest only added to their panic as they crashed through the undergrowth.
Twilight faded to a moonless night as Fu Xi patiently hunted them down, leaving each slowly dying amongst the ferns.
Eventually, Fu Xi emerged from the forest near the western road where the battle began. The great expanse of the Milky Way unfurled overhead in the moonless sky. Disembodied wails and agonized moans floated through the darkness, replacing the absent sounds of crickets and frogs.
Fu Xi suddenly tensed as a shadow emerged from the forest onto the road. He crouched and brought up his sword. The shadow moved again, followed by a lighter shadow. He relaxed and made his way up the embankment onto the road.
“Didn’t I tell you to wait?” he gently chided the horses. As if sensing Fu Xi’s pain, Heise and Huise surrounded him and tenderly nuzzled his face. He wrapped his arms around each of their necks and buried his head into Huise’s flank.
I cannot cry. That will come later. I must find any survivors.
He patted them and whispered, “Do not follow me again. Wait here until I am certain it is safe.” He removed a torch and his tinder kit from the pack on Huise’s back. In a few minutes, the flickering torch led his way. Fu Xi stepped around the dying Ice Men and into Tiejiang’s hut.
***
I made my way past the furs and pine boughs where the clan slept. I didn’t sleep among them in the main chamber. Instead, I slumbered under the sheltered overhang at the cave’s mouth. It was important I avoided over-familiarity with these mortals whom I considered my new children. One reason was dogged persistence of the two mature females, especially the red-headed one, to mate with me. I, being the son of a goddess and a Tall Man, could not bring myself to find them desirable, especially in the near emaciated state I found them in.
However, after only a few months with their new spears, the clan finally had enough food. The women were better nourished and pregnant, though with whose child, I wasn’t sure. The Ice Men coupled like dogs whenever the fancy struck them, but the females gravitated toward the strongest males. I did not judge them too harshly, as the first wild clans of Tall Men I taught were much the same.
I named the oldest female ‘Peacock’, as she was almost pretty and especially proud of her long red hair. The clan leader I called ‘Broad Back’, due to his immense shoulders. The youngest man I called ‘Morning Star’. He had sensitive hazel eyes under his tangled brown hair and deep brow.
Morning Star joined me at the mouth of the cave each morning, where we silently watched the sun crest the eastern mountains. In him I rested my hope for the race of Ice Men.
I never knew what they called each other. Other than crude grunts and primitive hand signals, the Ice Men were apparently devoid of speech. I tried, and failed, to teach them the language of the Tall Men. I needed to believe they had the capacity for speech, but the longer I lived among them, the more doubts plagued my mind. Without the gift of speech, men cannot define their humanity. Without a sense of humanity, there can be no compassion.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
Grain, pottery, iron tools, glassware, looms, and other treasures were cast aside by the Ice Men as junk. These were the treasures Fu Xi lovingly labored for centuries to teach mortals. The torch cast ruddy light upon shards of broken pottery interspersed among torn bodies. Suddenly, he caught Tiejiang’s vacant eyes staring at him from the shadows.
He dropped the torch and fell to his knees. He cradled Tiejiang’s head between his knees and stroked the dead man’s gray hair.
For what seemed like an eternity, he knelt over his friend’s body. “How did you grow so old?” Fu Xi laughed between tears. “Was I gone so long?” When Fu Xi bid farewell many years ago, Tiejiang was a man in his prime.
“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...” he whispered over and over as he rocked back and forth. He couldn’t bring himself to look down at the blacksmith’s violated body. A small hand lay across Tiejiang’s butchered abdomen. Fu Xi reached out and touched the dead child’s head.
He could have stayed there all night stewing in his grief, but the thought of possible survivors somewhere in the village stirred him. A full oil lamp hung from a peg next to the bloody sleeping mats. Fu Xi stood and lit the wax wick with the torch. The lamp glowed to life, providing a brighter and steadier light than the torch. Fu Xi shook the torch to extinguish it. He held the lamp high and turned to leave the hut.
Fu Xi stumbled throughout the village, finding only carnage. His grief and anger were rekindled with each new grisly discovery. Eventually, he found his way to the convent. He pushed the gates open wider and stepped into the courtyard. Fu Xi clenched his eyes shut and swayed back and forth, assaulted by an image beyond his worst nightmare.
The remains of the acolytes were piled under the ancient willow tree in the courtyard. The grim heap of gnawed limbs and gutted torsos were still clothed in bloody tatters of their white robes.
They were practicing for the Offering Festival.
When he opened his eyes, he could not bring himself to look upon the sacrilege. He numbly gazed up at the paper lanterns hanging limply, dark and lifeless, from the willow tree.
My world has come to an end.
He looked up at the silhouette of Tortoise Mountain against the brilliant stars. He threw his head back and screamed, “MOTHER!” His anguish echoed off the cliffs above.
Fu Xi’s sword clattered to the cobblestones as he fell to his knees. He set the lantern down, leaned his head forward to the ground and sobbed, pounding his fists against the stones.
“Why?”
***
I strolled along a small ledge on the right side of the main chamber into the dim recesses of the cave. As I walked, I reached out and caressed my proudest accomplishment with the Ice Men thus far, the one that gave me hope they may one day speak.
Not long after their cave was illuminated with firelight, I no
ticed Morning Star scratching crude images on the walls with sharpened bones. I seized the opportunity and spent hours teaching him how to mix plants, roots and different clays to form various pigments.
After several weeks, Morning Star had adorned the cave walls with bears, bison, and mammoths. The beautiful black, red, and ochre paintings struck a chord in my soul. I may have shown Morning Star how to mix the colors, but the artistic mastery belonged solely to him.
One night, I made my way to the back of the cave and found Morning Star curled up under a bison fur, sound asleep. His fingers and face were streaked with pigment. I tenderly stepped over the young man, careful not to wake him. There, on the wall was my image; an immense godlike figure in crisp blacks and reds. I was robed with my broadsword held high. Seven small, black figures danced at my feet, hands held high and heads craned back in adoration.
If being worshipped was necessary to establish a civilization among this race, so be it. Was this so different than the altars to my mother among the Tall Men? If Mother could see Morning Star’s astonishing art, she would be forced to reconsider her opinion of the Ice Men. I believed there was nobility below their savage veneer. I determined to mold it, just as I’d done with the Tall Men. I would prove Mother wrong.
As I walked to the back of the cave on that snowy night, I once again passed by Morning Star’s painting. Then, something I never noticed in the painting caught my eye. At first I thought it might be a trick of light or the texture of the rock. I paused and looked closer.
Behind my image was a shadow. Perhaps it was soot from a torch, I thought. Shape and shade drew my eye in, forming an image much larger than I originally suspected. I stepped back and scanned the cave wall from where it curved at the roof to where it met the dirt floor.
Looming over my image and the seven dancing figures was an immense shadow, almost like a watermark, in the vague form of a serpent. Serpents were strangers to the glaciers and unknown to the Ice Men.
Armed with this new perspective, it appeared the seven dancing figures, their heads craned back, were actually worshipping the black serpent. I shook my head and tried to refocus. No, I thought, the dark image couldn’t be a serpent.
Black Sea Gods: Chronicles of Fu Xi Page 14
