Savage Eden

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘I will know, Ffion,’ interrupted Sky, ‘and I will not break my promise to Tan until either Golau or death releases me from it. This was my vow.’

  Silence returned to the pair as the light increased at the water’s edge. Gradually, they became aware of a commotion in the stream. At first, they thought it was the sound of the river water splashing over the rocks but after a few minutes, Ffion’s curiosity got the better of her and she stood and walked over to the river bank, eventually calling out to her friend.

  ‘Sky, come here’.

  The young girl walked over to the bank and followed Ffion’s stare. For a few seconds the image of swirling agitated water was difficult to comprehend as the waters boiled with turbulent activity just beneath the surface, but as the dawn bathed the river bank in its gentle warmth, Sky and her friend witnessed the fruits of her experiment in fish farming unveil themselves in the soft golden light.

  Before her very eyes were fish, hundreds of fish, thrashing fruitlessly in their shrinking watery prison. It was beyond her wildest dreams. She had been confident of catching some, but these numbers were huge. Sky stared quietly at the scene. This should be a time of great rejoicing, but all she could think about was how Tan did not live long enough to see this great moment.

  ‘This is fantastic, Sky,’ whispered Ffion, ‘your idea has worked. Surely, our people will never go hungry again.’

  ‘Tan should be here,’ said Sky quietly, ‘he should know.’

  ‘Oh, he knows, Sky. Who do you think herded these fish to your traps? His first priority was always to feed the clan, and surely even in death, he provides. I think that this is his last gift to you and our people.’

  The two women of the same generation held each other and stared in wonder at the captured fish, as the sun gathered strength in the sky, perhaps a little brighter than other mornings.

  ----

  Chapter 21

  Three of the Neanderthal, Kraiach, Aarnoy and Brola returned to Golau’s camp a day and a half after setting out to find Seren’s strange list. In the meantime, the remainder of the group, Golau, Seren and Morlak had relocated to a sheltered copse to keep out the worst of the cold tundra winds. Golau stood alert as they came into the thicket and watched Kraiach, as he walked straight up to the handmaiden, dropping his skin bag at her feet before turning to join his colleagues warming themselves at the fire. Seren grimaced in pain as she reached for the bag while Golau stood close by, watching closely, but feigning disinterest. She emptied the bag and examined the contents, her nose wrinkling in protest at the disgusting smell.

  There was a rotting hollow log, stoppered at both ends with handfuls of moss placed by one of the Neanderthal to prevent the occupants escaping. Alongside this was the cause of the smell, a rotting corpse of a bird, the skin alive with the movement of something horrific, writhing beneath the feathered surface.

  ‘You have done well, Kraiach,’ she called, ‘you have my gratitude.’

  Golau could contain himself no longer.

  ‘What spells do you intend to weave with this filth?’ he asked his curiosity aroused.

  ‘No spells,’ Golau she said lifting herself to a sitting position, ‘it’s nature’s remedy. You would do well to watch and learn.’ She reached for her own bag and took out the pelt of a rabbit.

  ‘Split it into strips,’ she said throwing it to Golau. He hesitated for a few seconds, considering her impudence, but he thought better of starting another argument. He drew his knife and sliced the skin lengthways as directed. In the meantime, the Neanderthal gathered around to watch as Seren gently unwrapped her feet from their stinking wraps. They had gotten worse, and now there was rotting flesh on and between her toes, the broken blisters festering with infection; the smell almost overpowering the sightless crow’s corpse in ripeness.

  Seren laid out the lengths of rabbit skin alongside her leg and reached for the bird, slicing carefully through the naked breast with her razor sharp skinning knife. Though he half expected it, Golau still recoiled at the contents that were revealed within the crow’s gut, a writhing ball of white maggots vying for position to get at the birds fetid flesh.

  Seren paused and looked at Golau momentarily, and then to his amazement, she reached in the opened gut and pulled out a handful of maggots, spreading them evenly over her own foot, much to the amusement of the gathered Neanderthal. Seren quickly bound the treated foot loosely with one of the rabbit skin bandages enclosing the writhing creatures within.

  Brola said something his own language and was answered at length by Seren. Golau asked her what he said as he still struggled with their words.

  ‘He asked why I am putting filth on my wounds as everyone knows that filth makes wounds worse.’

  ‘Fair question,’ said Golau

  ‘Look at the bird, Golau,’ she said, ‘what have the crawlers eaten?’

  Golau poked at the corpse with his knife.

  ‘They have eaten all the insides of the bird,’ he answered.

  Seren shook her head

  ‘No they haven’t, Golau,’ look again

  He resumed his examination.

  ‘They have eaten the rotten meat only,’ he said slowly realizing her point.

  ‘That is right; they eat the soft rotten meat leaving any healthy flesh alone.’ She indicated her foot. ‘The task is the same, though the feast is different.’

  ‘So they will eat the rotting flesh from your feet, leaving them healthy?’ he asked.

  ‘Not quite,’ answered the handmaiden, ‘the rotten meat will be gone but the raw flesh can still get infected. That is why I needed this,’ She indicated the log.

  ‘Do the beetles do a similar job?’ he asked.

  ‘It is not the creatures I need this time, Golau, but the mould that grows on their droppings. It kills infection before it gets worse. The maggots work would be wasted without the mould.’

  ‘Show me,’ he said.

  ‘No, the maggots must do their work first. It will take three days before I can make a poultice from the log mould, and it will take three days longer, before I can walk. Now I must see to my other foot before the crawlers escape.’

  He watched for a few minutes before sitting down alongside her.

  ‘I will help,’ he said and placing her leg across his lap, started to unwrap the second foot. She leaned back, trying not to cry out at his roughness, but shocked at this change in attitude from the great hunter. After he had finished, Golau sat back, quiet for a long time, before finally looking at Seren.

  ‘We have started out wrongly you and me,’ he said, ‘we cannot afford to be at each other’s throats like camp dogs. We are of the same clan.’

  Seren nodded silently in agreement.

  ‘These are strange things that you know, Seren, and I may have need of your knowledge after all, but I cannot afford to wait another six days. I will follow the Baal, but I will ask Kraiach to leave one of the Mwrllwch to stay with you. When you are recovered, you must return to the valley.’

  ‘No need to ask, Golau,’ she said and indicated one of the Neanderthal with a nod of her head, ‘Morlak has already said he will stay. Like I said, I will be fine.’

  ‘Then it is agreed,’ he said his gruffness returning as he stood up, ‘I will leave at sunrise.’

  ----

  At dawn the next morning, the three remaining Mwrllwch and Golau collected their things and set out along the trail after the Baal. Morlak squatted quietly next to the fire draped in his heavy hunting fur. Seren lay sleeping, sedated by the herbs she had taken in the night to take away the pain of her feet and the uncomfortable feeling of crawling maggots eating away at her flesh.

  The pace was much quicker without the girl, and by the time the sun was at its highest, they had covered many miles. Golau indicated a stop to rest and to hunt, their rations were running low. Within a few minutes, his bow had brought down an over inquisitive wild dog, its meat would be pungent, but they needed the protein. While Brola set about butchering the
canine, Golau started the fire and soon became aware of Kraiach staring at his bow with interest. He offered the bow to the Neanderthal for closer inspection.

  ‘Do not the Mwrllwch use bows?’ he asked.

  ‘We have no such thing,’ answered Kraiach, examining the weapon closely as he turned it over in his hands. ‘What beasts can it take?’

  ‘Anything from a bird to a small deer, but it is no good for the larger beasts. Then we use a spear.’

  ‘As do we,’ said Kraiach.

  ‘A bow can be a great and terrible thing, Kraiach. It is good for bringing down prey from a distance, but can also be used to kill a man without him having a chance to fight back.’

  Kraiach shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘If he must die, then he must die,’ he answered.

  Golau took back the offered bow, intrigued at the Neanderthal’s answer.

  ‘With your people, who decides if someone should die?’ he asked, unhooking the string to maintain the strength in the bows timber.

  ‘It is known by all,’ answered Kraiach.

  ‘I don’t understand, do you meet and discuss his crime first?’

  Kraiach frowned not understanding the concept.

  ‘If a Mwrllwch must die, it is known by all,’ he repeated.

  ‘And how is the killing done?’

  ‘By blade, spear or stone,’ came the answer vaguely, ‘it is not important.’

  ‘What decides if a Mwrllwch must die?’

  ‘If there are injuries that cannot be healed, or when we are too old to follow the pack, or if a newborn child who is too weak to feed or is deformed at birth, we help them to the better place.’

  Golau hid his shock well.

  ‘What about your enemies?’ he continued. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘We have no enemies.’

  ‘Are not the Baal your enemies?’

  ‘No, they are yours.’

  ‘So why are you helping me if you have no quarrel with them?’

  Kraiach stayed quiet for a while.

  ‘The land is getting colder again,’ he said, ‘the white feathers last long on the ground and the sun is colder than other years. We have knowledge of this from the time before and though we welcome the cold, the beasts move further south each year to seek food and we must follow. The Mwrllwch are few, Golau, and are getting fewer and though we may seem strange in your eyes, we still have families to nurture and young to raise. In order to live, we will have to follow the herds into your lands. We have watched your kind for many years, and now believe that we have to live alongside you if we want our race to survive the coming cold times. We are not so different, you and I, Golau,’ he said.

  Golau was slightly taken aback, it was the most he had ever heard any of them speak.

  ‘So you want to bring your people to live with us?’ he asked.

  Kraiach was quiet for a while as Brola and Aarnoy joined them at the fire with the butchered dog. The hunks of meat were placed around the fire edge to roast as Kraiach continued.

  ‘You have many strange ways, Golau. The way you burn your meat on the flames is one, yet it is one we have all taken to. Now we all burn our meat.’

  ‘Cook;’ said Golau, ‘the word is cook’

  ‘Coook’ mimicked Kraiach. ‘Perhaps some of your other ways can be as interesting as this cooking of meat.’

  ‘There are many differences on both sides Kraiach,’ said Golau. ‘It may be hard for some of us to accept each other’s ways.’

  ‘It will be different,’ accepted Kraiach, ‘but it is better than the death that the white feathers will surely bring.’

  ‘If you are to join us,’ said Golau, ‘then we must know more about you. We find you very strange and need to understand. You must tell me about your kind Kraiach.’

  After a pause Kraiach answered.

  ‘Yes, it is important we know each other’s ways. But first we will eat.’ He leaned forward and stabbed a slab of meat with his knife, holding it over the flames to roast. ‘Cook is good’ he said and as no more words were forthcoming, Golau joined him in his task. After they had eaten, they banked up the fire and Kraiach told Golau the history of the Mwrllwch according to his people.

  ‘In the beginning, the Mwrllwch were the only Two-feet walking the plains. Huan the creator had given us the world. Prey was thick as grass on the ground and the Mwrllwch were many. Our children were strong then, and we lived in many great tribes, living off the land. Our food was the fruit of the trees and the beasts of the plain. All was ours, but one creature was forbidden to us, the herds of the creator, the Mammoth. These were Huan’s favourites and were his only. We worshipped them as Gods. This was the time before.’

  ‘Then the white feathers came. Cold white rain that stayed on the ground killing the grass and the beasts that lived on the plains, but we adapted and survived. Our bodies became thicker and we learned to live with the cold until the sun once again warmed the soil. The cold came many times and many died, but still we existed until one day, one of our kind, Gotha, committed the greatest of sins. He killed a Mammoth for food.’

  ‘He should have been put to death for this act, but Gotha was clever. He knew his executioners were hungry and he offered them some meat. They were weak and the Mammoth flesh was warm and delicious. Their children drank the blood and its skin draped over their families to keep them warm. They let him live. Though ashamed, the needs of Gotha’s family grew and he took more and more of the great creatures for they were thick upon the ground and was slow in the hunt. Others, needed to fill their own families aching bellies, and started to join Gotha in hunting the sacred beasts. Soon, the once mighty and revered Mammoth became the main prey of the Mwrllwch, keeping us alive over generations untold. We became experts, we followed the herds, killing many in the hunt, and once again, we became strong. This was in the Long ago.’

  ‘But Huan was angry we were killing his herds and sent the everlasting winter to our lands to punish us. Spring stopped coming and soon it was forever winter, and the ice lay higher than mountains. Many of our kind perished and most of the great tribes disappeared. Finally, one tribe was left, for they lived in a huge green land between two great cliffs, safe from the cold’s reach. For more seasons than there are stars in the sky they prevailed until Huan found them once more and sent a giant wave to fill the valley with the sea. But it was too late to save his herds. Most of the Mammoth were gone.’

  ‘Only a few groups survived Huan’s wrath, but they were condemned to forever wander the earth, settling nowhere for long and always seeking the creator’s herds. For many grandfather’s grandfathers, my clan has wandered the forests and the plains, living as we go, seeking the forgiveness of the Mammoth, We have learned the ways of the land and now know that we will not be forgiven by Huan until we receive his blessing. We know not how or when this will be offered, just that until we do, Huan will not let us rest. This is my story.’

  Golau listened in silence at Kraiach finished his tale.

  ‘How many of your kind are left,’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I am aware of only one more group;’ answered Kraiach, ‘the tribe of the long night and they have not been seen for many grandfathers.’

  ----

  The further North, Afon and Gafr followed the Baal, the colder it became. Ice and snow became permanent on the ground and food was hard to come by. Often they fell far behind the raiding party, as they had to take time out to hunt or to shelter from the biting snow storms that came more often. They had stopped on such an occasion and sheltered in a hastily excavated snow hole, their hoods raised over their heads and skins wrapped tightly around their bodies, insulating them from the winter bite.

  ‘How much farther can they go?’ asked Gafr to no one in particular, his teeth chattering and his breath clouding the air between his face and Afon’s back as they curled up in the tiny freezing space. Afon didn’t answer, conserving his heat and strength against the biting cold, his eyes screwed shut and expelling his used breath d
own the inside of his furs in a bid to warm up his rapidly chilling body.

  Hours passed and the two hunters lay in a semiconscious state as the blizzard blew over them. Finally, Afon opened his eyes, the frost cracking on his eyelids as he forced them apart. The first thing he noticed was the stillness. Total enveloping silence weighed on him like a freshly killed Rhino pelt.

  He strained to draw breath, as the now sealed snow hole only reluctantly allowed the life-giving oxygen past its stopper of freshly drifted snow. Realizing the urgency of the situation, he tried desperately to free his arms to dig his way out, but they were pinned tightly, as was the rest of his body.

  ‘Gafr,’ he mumbled through frozen lips, ‘Gafr wake up!’

  Gafr grunted, confirming he was alive.

  ‘Gafr wake up!’ repeated Afon. ‘Come on we must move; we have to get out. I cannot breath.’

  He felt the packed snow move as Gafr tried to free his body, fighting against the weight of snow lying across them both. They repeated their attempts for a long time, eventually lying still as their remaining strength escaped them and the carbon dioxide laden air eased them into unconsciousness, a prelude to a freezing death.

  ----

  Seconds later, or it could have been hours, Afon’s eyes sprang open in fear as a spear haft smashed through the ice and snow above their heads, embedding itself deep into the snow only inches before his face.

  Bright sunlight and life giving fresh air poured through the narrow shaft as the spear was withdrawn. Further assaults took place, closely watched by the uncomprehending eyes of Afon, until the shaft was wider. A moment later, he felt the cold and rough, yet welcoming feel of a fur gloved hand exploring his face.

  ‘They are here,’ said Kraiach withdrawing his arm from the hole, and proceeded to use both hands to claw at the loose snow, digging down to the trapped hunters as quickly as possible. Golau helped and soon uncovered the face of Afon staring up at his rescuers. For a second, Golau paused thinking it was Afon’s death stare until his eyes slowly blinked.