"You killed him, God'n. If the gifted agree, you are the new Clan Father."
"I did not kill Kag Ati. I tried to keep him alive and failed. He died at his own hand because he would not listen to your truth or mine. Let the gifted of the Cleft Mountain people choose your Clan Father. They know the people best. Together they know the best for them.” He turned and saw the guard who had cut free his bonds standing with five other guards. They were separate from the others, all looking down, their weapons on the snow. Some women and children a few paces off were gesturing and silently trying to get the attention of the guards to wave tearful good-byes. “What is that?” Gordon asked Manga.
"They are all hunters. Kag Ati made them his personal bodyguards when he became Clan Father and threw Gru Amti and his guards into the flames. They expect to be forced to join Kag Ati in the fire."
Gordon went to the guard who had cut him loose. “By what name are you called?"
"Avak Tav, new Clan Father."
"I am not Clan Father. Manga will explain that. My name is Gordon. Avak Tav, can you find the way to Red Cliff?"
The guard frowned. “I am not to die?” He held a hand out to the other guards. “God'n, we are not to die?"
"Not by my hand,” said Gordon. “You are all hunters,” he said to them. “Be hunters again. We will need many hunters for what is to come."
"I guide you to Red Cliff,” said Avak Tav. “May I tell my family?"
Gordon nodded and motioned to the guard who had first addressed him with a slap on his chest. “Chayma Azi,” he called. “Gather up all here who can ride and have the horses prepared. The riders will need food to carry. They will go a long way. Food for the horses, as well."
As Chayma Azi left on his mission, Gordon saw his spare underpants hovering just beneath his gaze. Looking down, he saw Kag Ati's youngest widow. “Are you my husband now?” she asked, her eyes very large and filled with fear.
He looked up and behind her were the former Clan Father's remaining two widows. More fear but no tears. He bent to the youngest one and said, “By what name are you called?"
"Misa,” she said. “Misa Hado. Do you want the headdress back?"
"No. You may keep the headdress. Come with me, Misa.” He turned her by her shoulder and they walked to where the other widows stood. Zibi Na at twenty-two was the eldest. The widow standing next to her, Tuieh, was eighteen. They were both quite beautiful. He regarded the trio and said, “I will be father to you all. Feed you, make shelter, help you learn skills, in time find good husband for each."
Zibi Na reached out and touched his arm. “You be husband.” Raven haired, slender, delicate features, eyes of tourmaline green. It was the Temptations all over again.
Gently he removed her hand from his arm. “Father, Zibi Na. Father or nothing. Choose.” He looked at the other two. “Choose."
Chayma Azi came and apologized for interrupting. “I have the riders together. Others are preparing the horses."
"Good. My thanks and I'll speak to the riders in a moment.” He turned to the three widows. “Well?"
"Can we keep Runner?” asked Misa. Kag Ati's big black dog peeked out from behind Zibi Na. He looked like a cross between a black Lab and an Irish wolfhound. A shaggy black shadow with one yellow eye open on the right. His left eye had been injured sometime in the past and was missing, leaving the animal with a permanent wink. Sometimes, Trickster, a new joke. “Welcome, brother,” he said to the dog. “Keep Runner,” he said to Misa as he laughed and followed Chayma Azi to where the riders were gathered.
* * * *
Early the next morning, Avak Tav and Gordon led a small column of riders down the North Trail, past Ghaf's tent into the village. Gordon pulled up his mount before Pela's house and sent Avak Tav to see Mahu and to ask him to call a meeting of whoever could attend at the clanhouse. Pela stepped from the door, her expression changing from joy at seeing Gordon alive, to distress that his head was bloodied, then to confusion at the number of additional wives he seemed to have acquired.
He explained to her Kag Ati was dead, he was responsible for the death, and that the three females were Kag Ati's widows “If you will have them, Pela,” he said, “they will be your stepdaughters."
Pela's expression transformed by slow degrees into one of wonder as she looked up at her husband. “Tana has been good to me,” she said as she placed a hand on Gordon's knee. “Two moons ago I was Pela Fur Maker, childless and alone. You come, God'n, now I have husband, son, and three daughters. We must have a bigger house."
Gordon dismounted and saw Jatka running toward him from the east village. He put his left arm around Pela's shoulders and held her tightly to him. When Jatka arrived, breathless from running, Gordon placed his right arm around his son's shoulders. “There won't be a bigger house,” he said to them. “Not here. We must leave Red Cliff. All of us must leave Black Mountain Country."
* * * *
XX
Every place was taken in the clanhouse, each one sitting upon a tier had one or two others standing behind him, the great circular wall crowded with more standing. Gordon stood in their center from the edge of the sunken fire pit. Among the faces were Tonton Annajaka, Gordon's eldest daughter Zibi Na, Avak Tav, and Pela. In addition were his two other daughters, one on the children's tier, the other standing next to his son on the adult's tier. Ghaf, Kom and his son Ta Avi, and Tonton Annajaka were there. Tonton nodded at Gordon and he nodded at Mahu. The Clan Father stood and told of putting down the Gift of Many Summers and the difference it had made to him and his wives. He called for others to attest to what he had said. There were others among the gifted who rose to speak on this subject.
Next Gordon had Avak Tav and Zibi Na describe what happened at Kag Ati's camp, the disagreement as to what would happen if the Clan Father placed Gordon's bag in his lap, how Gordon was shown to be telling the truth once again, and the terrible result.
Finally Gordon told them about an obscure dusty oven of a place in the western desert of a great nation where a brilliant teacher who studied the past wanted to see what was at the bottom of a red sandstone cliff. He told them of Ibrahim Taleghani's possession of a miraculous machine that would peel away years by the thousands and bring them back in time. He told them as well of the fears the teacher had should someone go into the past and turn over the wrong grain of sand—how it could possibly change everything in the future. He told them about the crater that was once a great mountain and how it would be smashed, filling all of the lands of Black Mountain Country with fire, earthquake, and flood. He spoke on how this destruction made it safe to travel back in time to look at them for they would no longer be alive to affect the future. He saw looks of horror on some, skepticism on others. Gordon nodded at Pela.
Pela stood and described the night she met Gordon and buried his two companions. She described the lights, the sounds the vehicle made as it came to rest in the cedars, then crumbled to dust. She described the clothes they all wore—no furs—and she spoke the Arabic words Taleghani had spoken to her. There were fewer looks of skepticism. Pela resumed her seat and Tonton rose to speak of her inspection of the site, what she had found, what Gordon had told her, and what Gordon's ghosts had told her. She spoke of Baltok, the man she had sent to Shayvi's Hill to meet Pela, what he had said he witnessed. When she sat, all was silent.
Gordon rose again. “From Kag Ati's camp I sent riders who witnessed what happened at the Cleft Mountain camp to go to all the clan houses in Black Mountain Country. They will assemble the people there and tell them what we have just told you. Those who would live must make preparations, pack provisions, and leave. The snows get heavier and the going will be slow, so we must leave soon. Red Cliff People will join with Big Tree and Many Horses and strike north away from the mountain. Cleft Mountain people will head west. Green Meadows and the plains clans will strike east. Yellow Claw, Big Snake, and Black Shoulders will go south. All clans will bring their adopted clans and any peoples they find along the way with
them away from the mountain."
Ghaf the hunter stood. “This can't be true."
"I have gone to a lot of trouble to show I speak truth,” answered Gordon.
"Here I know all the woods and streams, the game, the seasons—"
"We need you, Ghaf,” said Gordon. “We need our hunters more than ever for guides, for food, and for skins that shelterers and furriers can use to protect us on our journey."
Mahu stood and turned to look at the old hunter. “We must last the winter, old friend, and the snows are just beginning. We need you and the other hunters to show us how to walk on snow, build shelters from ice, where to dig to find fodder for the animals, and to keep us heading away from the mountain.
"We can't make horses walk on snow, or cows, or pigs,” protested Ghaf.
"We can pack the snow,” said Gordon. “I will show you how."
Ghaf looked at Gordon. “How far must we go?"
"I don't know. We may not be able to get far enough away in time. I hope we can."
"Why did you not tell us sooner that we might have gotten an earlier start?” shouted a young man from the second tier across the fire pit. Several other voices muttered agreement.
"Would you have believed me?” Gordon asked. “Without the secret of the Gift of Many Summers exposed, without all who saw how Kag Ati died, would any of you have believed me?"
"I find it hard to believe you now even so,” shouted another voice.
Tonton Annajaka stood and walked around the fire pit until she faced Gordon. She held a clenched hand out to Gordon and opened her fingers, revealing a small heap of sand upon her palm. “I believe you, God'n.” She looked around at the faces of her friends and neighbors. “I have seen this terrible storm coming since I was but a girl. Before the year is out, it will be here. If we are to live we must leave.” She looked back at Gordon. “But what of turning the wrong grain of sand? If we should travel far enough, if some of us should survive, what of your own time?"
"This is my time,” he answered quietly. “Perhaps it will make no difference. Perhaps one of your descendents will build a terrible weapon that will end all life. Then, perhaps we will bring into being something better."
Gordon took Tonton's hand, turned it, and emptied the grains of sand into his own palm. He looked up and studied the faces looking back at him. Raising his hand, he threw the sand in a wide arc up into the air. As it fell to the floor stones he took Pela's arm and left to gather their children and begin packing.
The lead horse pulling their heavily loaded travois left fifteen days later following the path made by the huge roller the woodworkers, harness makers, and thatchers completed at Gordon's direction to be pushed by six horses. After another four days more horses arrived from the east. In another three days, all who would leave Red Cliff were traveling north. There were a few left behind, reported Jatka: some young ones and some old ones stayed. After all, as everyone knows, the Gift of Many Summers only grows along the banks of Avina's Valley west of Red Cliff. They could not be certain of a supply in the north.
* * * *
Many are the tales of danger and adventure as the Black Mountain people struggled north through the winter storms to escape the coming sky fire. Some of the very old, some of the very young, died from the cold. Some died when food grew scarce, some died when the winter bears became more hunter than prey. A large number of the Big Tree People rebelled at the hardships and turned to go back to their forests at the base of Black Mountain. Some of the Black Mountain and Many Horses Clans joined them. Most continued north.
The night Avak Tav and Zibi Na wed, a thousand stars fell. The late evening sky filled with fiery streaks from the east close to the horizon. They were so many all felt that their prayers had been answered. As they burrowed into their shelter of ice and fur that night, Pela said to Gordon, Jatka, Tuieh, and Misa that she was to have Gordon's child. Her prayer had been answered.
It was many days later, the day sky clear and windless, the air warming and the planters beginning to talk of land and seed, when a few of the remaining members of the Big Tree Clan said that it was far past the time Gordon said the mountain would explode. Gordon was on his horse listening to them when Jatka pointed out to all of them a tiny bright fire in the sky that quickly became a tiny sun of its own. Gordon called for all to dismount and try to control the horses, but few did. They watched in awe as the fire streaked below the southern horizon, causing a great brilliance in the entire sky that hurt the eyes.
Gordon was still calling for the riders to dismount and control their horses when a wall of sound hit them all, driving man and beast alike down into the snow. A breath of hot air warm enough to make the snow sticky came from the south, paused, and was replaced by an icy wind sucked from the north to feed a giant gray tower of ash and steam that climbed above the southern hills. Some watched in awe while others chased down the horses and livestock. “There will be a shock through the ground,” Gordon called, urging others to spread the warning. “The ground will lift and shake like a dog—” And the earth rose, shook, cracked, and fell, tossing about men, beasts, rock cliffs, and giant cedars like straws in the wind.
When earth again became earth and snows continued to melt from the warmer air, what animals that could be recaptured were under control, and the dead and injured tallied. Most of those who had left Red Cliff had survived. Now there was a land to find and Bloody London to rebuild.
* * * *
XXI
As the snows melted away, they found a fertile land of red cliffs. On a hill with good water and in sight of the sea to the north, they built their shelters and corralled their animals. From flying over it in another existence, Gordon recognized that distinctive place on the coast. In one of the infinite futures of the universe it would someday be called Tobruk, the best natural harbor in North Africa. In spring, the crops all in the ground, the homes going up, Pela gave birth to a baby boy. Custom had the boy unnamed for its first moon, allowing the father to select a name that would honor the child as well as honor his and Pela's hopes for the child. It was during that time when Avak, Jatka and their scouts returned from exploring the deserted harbor on the north coast. They returned with strange objects that looked like burned stones and were incredibly heavy for their size. One of the hunters, a muscular lad of nineteen born to Big Tree Clan and for Black Shoulders People, Silis Ti, took one of the burned stones to Gordon who was in his partially built home holding his baby wrapped in fur while Pela slept.
Jatka and Avak were with Silis and Jatka said, “Father, look at what Silis found."
Gordon looked at the stone in the hunter's hand, shifted the baby until he could hold it with one arm, then held the stone with the other. He grinned. “Remember, Jatka, when we were on the trail north from Black Mountain, the night Zibi and Avak wed and so many stars fell."
"I remember."
"This is one of those stars."
"Very heavy to be a prayer, Father. Heavy even to be a stone."
"They are all over the ground, on the beach at the harbor, and more in the sea,” said Avak. “What is it made of?"
"I told you once about iron. That is what this is mostly. You say there are more of these?"
Silis laughed. “Thousands. Umtok could build himself and everyone else a fine rock home and have stones to spare."
Avak said, “I don't think he could lift any of those big ones."
Gordon hefted the stone and handed it back to Silis. “The three of you take an extra horse each and bring back as many of these as the beasts can carry. If you do, I will make each of you a new knife."
"A flint for so little a task?” said Silis. “I'll leave now."
"Not a flint, Silis. I'll make you a knife of iron. Perhaps even one of steel. It will take awhile to make the blades.” He looked at Jatka. “I must make a lot of charcoal, build a furnace, figure out how to force air in it...” Gordon let the sentence trail off as he frowned.
"What is it, God'n?” asked Avak, a to
ne of concern in his voice.
"Something that never crossed my mind before. What came first, the anvil or the hammer?” Seeing the confused expression on both of their faces at the new word, Gordon said, “Never mind. You three go and get the stones. Jatka, take an additional horse and bring back the biggest and heaviest of the burned stones the horse can carry.” He frowned as he thought. “I'm going to need wood. Lots of wood."
As the three left to assemble the horses and supplies they'd need for their journey, Pela came up behind Gordon, took the child from him and rocked the baby in her arms. “Have you found a name?” she asked.
"I have."
"Then you must tell everyone,” she chided.
Gordon Redcliff climbed into a high tree and yodeled at the top of lungs that he had news. “Today I name my son and he is called Iron Eyes."
Others passed it along, even though the name seemed a bit odd. Gordon climbed down from the tree, looked into the face of his child, placed his hand on the child's shock of obsidian black hair, and said to him, “We'll do copper and bronze ages when you get a bit older."
Pela grinned widely as she looked to the east. “Look, God'n!” She raised a hand and pointed. “Oh, look!"
He turned his head and in the distance he saw a female great wolf coming their way. “Be on your best behavior, Iron Eyes,” Gordon whispered to the child. “Your aunt is coming for a visit."
Copyright © 2009 Barry B. Longyear
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Reader's Department: THE REFERENCE LIBRARY by Don Sakers
Science fiction has often been called a literature of ideas. That's not to say that ideas are all that make a good sf story. The perfect sf tale (which is about as rare as the perfect gas) would combine great ideas, outstanding characters, intricate plotting, superbly drawn backgrounds, transcendent themes, and sublime writing.
Obviously, certain stories do a better job on some of these elements than on others. In the sf world, there's a tendency to look kindly on stories in which stunning ideas or magnificent backgrounds predominate, and to have less patience with tales where a mediocre idea takes back seat to compelling characters or lyrical prose.
Analog SFF, September 2009 Page 21
