Savage Eden

by Kevin Ashman

  Again, there was a fire set and the human searchers gratefully accepted a seat near the flames. In the background, the sound of a great waterfall roared as it fell from the glacier above, the luminous misty vapour from the crashing water was still just visible in the failing light.

  ‘Have you found sign?’ asked Golau.

  ‘They were here,’ said Kraiach, indicating other cold fire pits dotted around the area where the Baal had eaten.

  ‘How long ago, Kraiach?’

  ‘Two nights!’

  Golau thought quickly.

  ‘If we walk through the dark we could catch them up by dawn.’

  ‘No!’

  Golau stared at the Neanderthal sucking the marrow from the broken foreleg of the dog killed several days earlier. He could not make him go with him, but they had become friends and the Mwrllwch spears would be needed if there were a fight.

  ‘The moon will be bright tonight, Kraiach, and there are no beasts this far North. The walking will be good.’

  ‘No!’

  Golau straightened up.

  ‘Then we will go alone,’ he said, and the three members of the Fire-clan stood up as one. Without looking back, they started to walk east along the base of the ice cliff. After a hundred yards, Kraiach called out to the disappearing hunters.

  ‘Golau, you walk the wrong way.’ He continued gnawing, engrossed in obtaining the sweet marrow from the core of the canine thighbone. Golau stopped and walked slowly back to the fire.

  ‘I have checked that way, Kraiach,’ he snapped, indicating westward, ‘there is no sign there, and there would be no reason why would they return the way they came.’

  Kraiach picked a bone splinter from his teeth before answering.

  ‘They have not, they are there.’ He pointed his bone toward the ice wall. Golau looked up to where he estimated the top of the glacier was.

  ‘They climbed that?’ he asked looking up.

  ‘No, they went through it.’

  After a few silent moments, Golau sat down again at the fire and stared at Kraiach, waiting for him to finish his meal.

  ‘What do you mean, Kraiach?’ he asked finally when the Neanderthal sat back, licking his fingers. ‘How do they go through the cold wall?’

  ‘The river has stabbed through the ice,’ he said. ‘There is a path cut into the face to the top of the waterfall, and they have followed the water to its birthplace.’

  Golau stared toward the sound of the waterfall.

  ‘Can we follow?’

  ‘In the light it will be possible,’ he said. ‘Tonight we must eat and sleep. Tomorrow we will be very cold.’ He threw the remaining dog leg to Golau. ‘Eat!’

  Golau tilted his head at Afon and Gafr indicating they should make themselves comfortable and the whole group settled in for the night, the light of the fire reflecting off the face of the ice far above.

  ----

  Seren gingerly un-wrapped the rabbit skin bandage. Over the last few days, the blue-green fungus harvested from the inside of the rotting log had replaced the maggots that had greedily devoured the infected flesh from her feet. The antiseptic properties of the mould had cleared up any residue of infection and her feet were well on the way to full recovery. Morlak handed her fresh strips that had been washed in a nearby stream.

  ‘I think I will leave them unwrapped today, Morlak,’ she said, ‘they are healing well and need the fresh air to form the new skin.’

  ‘Today I must hunt,’ he said dropping the bandages into her lap. She nodded her agreement.

  ‘You must try to kill something a bit bigger than the white hares, Morlak, I will be able to travel in two days and we need meat for our bags. If we are to catch Golau up, we will have to travel fast and will have no time to hunt.’

  Morlak looked at her quizzically

  ‘We follow Golau?’ he asked. ‘He told you to go back.’

  ‘He might have told me, Morlak, but I did not agree. I only said I would to stay here and sort out my feet.’

  ‘He is a great hunter in your people and you are a woman. Why do you not obey?’

  ‘We are not in the clan now, Morlak, and the rules have changed. Golau is not here and I make my own decisions. Besides, I think he will have need of our skills.’ She finished off seeing to her feet, and sat back enjoying the cool air on her healing feet.

  Morlak shrugged his shoulders. He cared not which way they went.

  Seren stared at the strange features of the Neanderthal realizing that despite spending several weeks in their company, she knew virtually nothing about these strange people. Morlak had been quite successful in picking up her language during that time so with the aid of signs and gestures, Seren decided to find out more about their life.

  ‘Who makes the decisions in your people, Morlak?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘The male,’ he said

  ‘Which male?’

  ‘The male in charge of the group.’

  ‘And who is that?’

  ‘Sometimes Kraiach, sometimes Brola, sometimes it is me, whoever is the senior male at the time.’

  ‘How many Mwrllwch are there?’ she continued encouraging the usually reticent Neanderthal to talk.

  ‘As many as fingers and toes on two hunters.’

  ‘Does that include children?’ she asked and seeing the blank look on his face, held her hand waist high above the floor. ‘Small Mwrllwch’

  ‘There are six small Mwrllwch,’ he said understanding.

  ‘Do you have any children?’

  ‘There are six small Mwrllwch,’ he repeated.

  ‘But do you have any?’ she emphasized by pointing at him. He frowned not understanding the question.

  ‘They belong to all,’ he said

  ‘Yes but are you the father of any of them?’

  ‘I do not understand this thing.’ he said.

  She considered a new tact

  ‘Do you have a wife?’ she asked

  ‘I do not understand.’

  She paused for a moment trying to find the right words feeling slightly embarrassed.

  ‘Is there a female who you share your furs with at night?’

  ‘I sleep alone, as do all Mwrllwch.’

  ‘Yes, but if there are children, then the women must have mated with the men at some time. Have you mated with one of the women?’

  ‘I mate with all the women,’ he said, ‘as do the others.’

  ‘Oh!’ she said visibly taken aback at the revelation. ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you not mate with all your men?’ asked Morlak.

  ‘No, it’s different for us. We pick just one partner and stay with them until one dies.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Um, I don’t know how to answer that,’ she said, ‘we just do.’

  ‘Do you have a mate?’ asked Morlak

  ‘No!’ she said. ‘Definitely not. I have never lain with a man.’

  ‘I will be your mate,’ he said without changing tone or inflection.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I will mate with you if required, as will Kraiach.’

  She stared in astonishment at him. She was flustered; this conversation was going all wrong.

  ‘No!’ she said raising her voice. ‘I mean,’ she took a deep breath and said calmly, ‘I am honoured by your offer, but that won’t be required.’

  ‘Why not?’ he answered. ‘I care not that you are ugly’.

  Her mouth fell open in astonishment

  ‘Ugly, what do you mean ugly?’

  ‘Your face is different to our women, no hair covers your skin and your body does not carry enough meat,’ he sneered. ‘You would die on the ice. But this is okay. I will mate with you if you cannot get any of your own kind to do so.’

  She returned his calm stare realizing that he actually believed he was offering her a favour.

  ‘Look,’ she said eventually, ‘it is not because I am ugly. In our kind, well, let’s just say I am not considered ugly within my clan. I choose n
ot to take a mate.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because, I am to become Shaman within my clan; therefore I must remain untouched by men. I must not have children, or the magic will not be as strong.’

  ‘What does mating have to do with the giving of children?’ asked Morlak, a puzzled look in his eye.

  ‘But surely you understand…’ she began, and realizing this conversation was getting very complicated, decided to cut it short. ‘It matters not,’ she said eventually with a sigh, ‘we will discuss this another time.’

  Morlak realized the conversation had ended so he stood up.

  ‘I will hunt now,’ he said and walked out of the copse.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘go and hunt.’ She slowly lifted her fingers up to her face feeling her own features. ‘Ugly indeed!’

  Seren spent the next few days making herself a new pair of strong waterproof boots from the skin of the forest pig caught by Morlak. She lined them with layers of soft reindeer fur, and they reached high up to her knees. They were warm and comfortable and she felt confident they would protect her feet far better than the moccasins she had worn since leaving the cave.

  Morlak cut a bough from a young tree and fashioned it into a smooth staff to aid her walking. Their pouches were full of dried pork, so they set out one morning to catch up with Golau and the Neanderthal. They had lost just over a week. Before they set out Seren called Morlak.

  ‘I have a gift for you,’ she said and gave him a second pair of boots that she had made without his knowledge. He accepted them with amusement and after examining them closely, placed them in his pack and walked barefoot out of the copse without uttering a word.

  ‘Men!’ she exclaimed under her breath and picking up her pack, hobbled after him, following the huge five toed footprints left behind in the fresh snow.

  ‘I hope your toes fall off,’ she muttered under her breath before shouting, ‘Morlak, wait for me!’

  ----

  Seren found it difficult at first; relying heavily on the staff and the arm of Morlak, but with frequent rests, her feet soon became stronger and they made good progress. Over the next few days they followed the faint signs, stopping briefly to examine the snow hole where Kraiach had found Afon and Gafr, the new footprints telling the story. Eventually, they reached the base of the glacier where the previous party had climbed to enter the icy waterfall.

  ‘We cannot follow,’ said Morlak, ‘we have little food and your feet are not yet healed enough to walk on the ice.’

  ‘Then what do we do?’ she asked.

  After thinking a while, Morlak responded.

  ‘We will travel alongside the face of the ice toward where the sun rises,’ he said indicating eastward. ‘The ice does not reach into the sea and we will seek out a path alongside the great water.’

  The weather was kind to them over the next few days though the pace was slow. Seren followed in the footprints of Morlak day after day, often trying to engage him in conversation but with little success. One morning, while trying to keep up she almost collided with him when he stopped suddenly, standing rock still, staring at something in the distance. Seren stared in the same direction hoping to see a pig or a deer but could see nothing but a wide lake in the distance. Eventually, she spotted movement on the water and recognized a flock of geese floating serenely on the surface.

  Using a fold in the ground they approached carefully, until they finally lay at the lakes edge, hidden within the remains of dead waterside reeds. Seren had no idea how they were supposed to catch the fowl though was afraid to ask in case she frightened the birds away.

  Slowly, Morlak reached beneath his cape and retrieved what seemed like a wooden pole as long as Seren’s arm and as thick as a hunting spear at one end. Her first thought was it was indeed a strange sort of spear until she realized that where there should be a flint spearhead, it thinned to the thickness of her thumb and seemed to have a hole bored deeply into the end.

  Fascinated she watched as he again reached beneath his cape and retrieved a small skin roll containing approximately ten long thorns, each wrapped at one end with a soft wedge of downy fur.

  Morlak lifted the thick end of the strange spear and fed the sharp end of a thorn into the thick end of the hollow stick, gently pushing the flighted end until it plugged snugly in the aperture. He laid the strange weapon in front of his head and waited patiently as the geese slowly drifted toward their position.

  After a few minutes, one came closer and Seren was astonished when Morlak raised the thick end of the stick to his mouth and with an almighty blow sent the lethal dart flying from the blowpipe across the shallow water, piercing deep into the unfortunate bird’s breast.

  The squawking bird flapped aggressively in pain, and as the rest of the flock took to the wing, Morlak waded into the water to claim his prize leaving his weapon on the shore.

  Seren slowly picked up the weapon in awe; she had never seen such a thing. What she had initially thought were ridges and dents, at closer inspection were intricate carvings cut deep into the wood of the blowpipe. Images of all manner of beasts looked up at her from the surface of the lovingly carved weapon, intertwining with each other or peering from behind trees as mammals, birds, snakes and fish battled for space to grace this stunning, yet deadly work of art.

  The balance was beautiful with most of the weight at the thicker end, enabling a stable stance and accurate shot. She looked at the small bag of darts, gently touching the point of one with her finger, instantly drawing a small drop of blood with its sharpness. The mouthpiece of the blowpipe was carved into the curved horned head of a Mountain Ram, its snout forming the perfect shape to fit the user’s mouth.

  Morlak returned with the goose, wading through the shallow lake water, and he stopped to watch Seren’s examination.

  ‘What is this, Morlak?’ she whispered in admiration without taking her eyes off the weapon.

  ‘It is Swaden,’ he answered.

  ‘Where does it come from?’

  ‘I made it!’

  She gazed at the weapon again, turning it over and over in her hands.

  ‘How long did it take you?’

  ‘When Mwrllwch kill their first beast, they are taken by the tribe to find their Swaden. I started when I had seen as many summers as I have fingers on one hand.’

  ‘Where do you find them?’

  ‘The branch grows from the root of the Bedwen tree. It can take many moons to find the right one and there is much work.’

  ‘Are they only carried by males?’

  ‘No, all Mwrllwch carry Swaden,’ he said

  ‘Even the women?’

  ‘All Mwrllwch hunt,’ he answered.

  ‘It is beautiful, could you make me one?’

  ‘It takes all the life of a Mwrllwch to make Swaden,’ he said.

  ‘Is this not finished?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘When will it be finished?’ she asked, finding it difficult to imagine how it could be made any more beautiful.

  ‘When I die, it is finished.’

  He threw the goose at her feet and retrieved the blow pipe, replacing it back under his cape revealing a long sewn pocket, deliberately made to hold the weapon. Again, Seren was amazed, there was more to these people than she had ever imagined.

  They stayed at the lake for two days, Morlak hunting geese with the beautiful Swaden watched by Seren, engrossed by the effectiveness of the silent but deadly weapon. They ate well and refilled their bags with enough fat covered goose flesh to last two weeks.

  ----

  Chapter 24

  Now there was plenty of food in the stone walled stores, Ceffyl was happy to lend Sky the hunters to help her in her next task. The rest of the women kept up a steady supply of fish from the estuary, whilst each day the men left the valley to carry out Sky’s strange instructions. They had met around the hearth of Ceffyl to hear the strange girl’s ideas.

  ‘Dig a pit as you would to cook a deer for a fea
st,’ she had said, ‘but you should make it as deep as a man and about four paces across. It must be placed in the forest and in a place where the Mochyn are known to live.’

  She went on to describe how they should cover the pit with light branches and place rotting ripe food in the centre as bait, so when a pig went to eat the food they would crash through the foliage and be trapped in the pit. They could then kill the animal easily and bring it back to the valley. This way they would not have to travel for days to find prey.

  The idea was simple and the hunters saw the merit in the idea, but though the pit had been dug fairly quickly, they had their share of failures on the way. Smaller animals of the forest often took the bait, their body weight not heavy enough to break the branches covering the pit. On one occasion, they had found the cover crashed in, but the pit empty. A quick check of the area revealed the prints of a giant cat that had fallen in, but had managed to leap out of the trap to make its escape. The hunters had looked around nervously as they reset the foliage covering.

  After a week of no results, a commotion at the entrance of the valley drew the attention of the women, as a young boy of the clan came running into the valley to slide down the shale slope. Sky waited patiently as the boy caught his breath.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked. He nodded

  ‘The pit,’ he eventually managed to say panting, ‘the cover is gone and there is Mochyn within’

  ‘You have seen this?’ asked Sky excitedly.

  ‘No, but I heard its grunting from the edge,’ he said nervously.

  She called out for Ceffyl who eventually emerged from the cave. He listened to the excited boy before summoning the rest of the men and boys.

  ----

  The hunters assembled and trekked out of the valley up the shale slope, leaving the women behind. After reaching the plateau, they made their way between the rocky peaks of the surrounding mountain range toward the forest that contained the pitfall. They approached with caution, Forest pigs often lived in herds of ten or more and could be dangerous when cornered, especially the boar. As they got closer, they listened for any sound from the pit, but heard only silence. The cut foliage over the pit had been obviously broken by something falling through the branches, and after carefully removing the remainder with their spears; their hard work was rewarded by the sight of not one, but two sows at the bottom of the hole.