Savage Eden

by Kevin Ashman

  ----

  Seren’s lungs emptied and she knew she was about to die. However, as her brain gave up the fight and sent the signal to breathe in the icy water, she faintly realized that somehow, she was breathing air. Before she could work out how, the two bodies, close to death, were washed over the waterfall edge and down to the plunge pool, thirty feet below the face of the glacier.

  ‘There she is,’ screamed Raven, ‘someone help me!’ She waded into the water to reach Seren’s floating body. She reached out and grabbed Seren’s hair dragging her to the bank. More hands helped to drag her out to join Morlak’s unconscious body, already on the riverbank.

  ‘We have to warm them,’ she shouted, ‘we need a fire.’

  Little-bear looked up at the waterfall entrance high above his young head.

  ‘There is no time,’ he said, ‘they are here. It is over.’

  Raven looked up and sure enough, dozens of Baal were charging along the path that led out of the waterfall entrance, each screaming in delight at the realization that they had at last caught their prey. Raven pulled Little-bear to her and held him tight.

  ‘Be not afraid Little-bear,’ she said, ‘the Sun-god is with us.’ They closed their eyes waiting for the killing blows that would finally end their ordeal.

  ----

  The familiar whooshing sound of arrows in flight passed over their heads and Raven ducked, conscious that they had missed and she still lived. She looked up in confusion as a fresh salvo flew through the air, but suddenly realized they did not come from the Baal, but from the trees to her rear.

  She looked toward the glacier. Baal warriors were falling in the dozens, as the hail of arrows thudded into their unprotected bodies on the unprotected ice ledge. Raven spun around to stare at the source of this unexpected but welcome aid and made out a familiar figure standing to the front of dozens of hunters bearing bows and spears at the forest edge.

  ‘Keep firing,’ shouted Alid of the Morfil, ‘don’t let them escape, remember the families who have died at their hands.’

  The archers of the Water-clan needed no encouragement as they kept firing their arrows into the throng of killers they had feared for so long. When their arrows were exhausted, the hunters of the Tree-clan took their place, closely followed by the other clans who shared their lands.

  Despite the deadly onslaught of the arrows, the sheer weight of Baal numbers meant that many managed to get down the slope to the valley floor, now manic in their rage to get at this new focus of their attention. The arrows petered out and still the Baal came.

  A murmur of unrest rippled around the gathered hunters when they saw the numbers that still lived and Alid realized the danger. If they ran now, they would all be killed and the attacks would continue in the future. They needed leadership and he looked around the men of the clans he had brought here from the gathering place two weeks ago.

  ----

  Only once every two years did the clan gather and Ceffyl in his wisdom had realized that they would all be present when he had sent Alid on this task. Alid remembered how nervous he had been when he had addressed the clan elders at the gathering and how he had almost lost their support until he had showed them the symbol that Ceffyl had bid him carry. The laughter had stopped and they listened to his carefully remembered message. The volunteer hunters that had accompanied him that same night were single men, but had been keen to avenge their clans, all of whom had lost families to the Baal over the years, but they were no warriors.

  ----

  Alid watched the stalemate as the two opposing groups faced each other. The clan hunters had exhausted their arrows and now faced the fearsome warriors with nothing more than their hunting spears and knives. Subconsciously, he realized that this was his chance. This was the moment when not only his clan, but those hunters of all the other clans present would learn that he was a hunter too, and was worthy of his name.

  He looked at the giant spear cradled in his arms. It was a symbol of all the clan’s of the plains. Holding it high above his head, he screamed so he could be heard above the commotion.

  ‘Hear me, hunters of the people. Do not falter now. Avenge our dead and take this chance to end our children’s nightmares forever. Wipe the soul eaters from our lands.’ He let the Hell-farch fall forward into a horizontal position, and once again, the giant symbolic spear resumed the purpose for which it had been designed a thousand years ago. To kill.

  ‘I am Alid of the Morfil!’ he shouted. ‘Death to the Baal!’

  Screaming his hunting cry, that he had practiced in private so many times over the years, he charged forward to meet the throng racing toward him, his solitary figure facing down the horror in front of him without fear, charging into their number, screaming and slashing the giant spear with lethal effectiveness.

  Before he fell, Alid accounted for seven warriors, the Hell-farch tasting Baal blood for the first time in hundreds of years.

  Within minutes, a crazed chief held aloft Alid’s head in triumph, the blood still pouring from the Whale-killer’s neck, brandishing his gory trophy toward the hunters, expecting to see fear and panic in their eyes.

  What he saw was anger and determination. The hunters of the people were awed by what they had witnessed from the young man and a collective rage ran through them like fire. Finally, one young man stepped forward.

  ‘Death to the Baal!’ he screamed, echoing Alid’s challenge and fifty throats took up the call as one. The combined hunters of the people charged screaming into the wall of Baal, their spears and knives killing indiscriminately, as they vented their rage on their eternal enemy.

  The Baal fought back just as hard, but soon started to fall back, totally overwhelmed by the ferocity of the attack and within minutes, they turned and ran back toward the ledge leading up to the waterfall, many falling with knives in their backs as the raging hunters chased them. Raven held Little-bear tight and sobbed in relief as the slaughter continued up to and into the ice tunnel.

  ‘Stay there,’ she said to Little-bear quickly, and grabbed Seren’s freezing body, holding her tightly in her arms.

  ‘Help me!’ she screamed, ‘someone help me quickly.’

  Fellow escapees ran over. Between them, they got the two unconscious bodies out of their clothes, while the others built a fire.

  ‘Will they be okay?’ asked Little-bear.

  ‘I hope so, little one,’ said Raven, ‘I really hope so.’

  ----

  The hunters who had pursued the fleeing attackers into the glacier returned several hours later. They reported that though they had managed to kill some stragglers, many Baal had escaped up onto the ice sheet. The temporary camp was quiet now, with everyone taking the opportunity to rest and recover from the horror of the previous days. Guards were posted at the river entrance and fires were built for warmth and cooking.

  Seren lay wrapped in thick skins alongside a raging fire, warm for the first time in a long time. Morlak too had survived the freezing waters, though he was still unconscious.

  A male Shaman of the Water-clan chanted his magic over the Neanderthal’s body and the knife wound had been dressed with chewed herbs. Raven fussed over Seren by bringing her food and warm blood from freshly killed beasts the hunters killed in the surrounding woodland.

  ‘Drink,’ she said, ‘you need to warm the inside as much as the outside.’

  ‘I am fine, Raven,’ said Seren, ‘but I fear for Morlak.’

  ‘Tonight will tell,’ she replied. ‘If his body can keep his spirit until the sun rises, he will be okay.’

  Seren nodded her agreement and took the proffered bowl of blood gratefully.

  ----

  Hours later, Seren opened her eyes without knowing what had awakened her. She listened carefully, in the silence of the pitch-black night, afraid the Baal had returned. The noise came again and she realized it came from Morlak. Quickly, she arose and picking up the thick winter fur that had covered her in the cold night air, she crossed to the stir
ring form of Morlak.

  ‘Morlak’, she whispered, ‘it’s me, Seren. Are you okay?’

  His eyes flickered open and after a second, a weak smile played on his mouth.

  ‘Seren,’ he said weakly, ‘you live.’

  ‘As do you,’ she said quietly brushing the matted hair from his eyes.

  His body shuddered and he started to cough.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked again.

  ‘Just cold,’ he said, ‘but seeing you makes me feel warm again.’

  For the second time, Seren had cause to question her emotions and the intentions of this strange man who she had grown so close to over the last few months, risking his life to save hers. This time there was no turmoil, and no conflict. She spread out the large cape over Morlak’s body adding it to his own and with one last look around, she lifted the skins and crawled under to curl her body around the back of the Neanderthal, her added body heat helping him to survive the night.

  The following morning, she arose before the sun and set about stoking up the fire. Other bodies stirred around the camp and she managed to obtain some meat from another hunter. She crouched over the hot stones and cooked the slice of gazelle cheek before returning to Morlak’s side. She was pleasantly surprised to see him sitting up against the nearby tree trunk tending to the stab wound in his side.

  ‘You must be feeling better,’ she said, ‘last night I thought you would die.’

  ‘I have a lot to live for,’ he said.

  Seren stared at him in silence for a moment, but didn’t delve further.

  ‘Here, eat some meat,’ she said, ‘Raven said it will warm you inside.’

  He took the meat and despite preferring it raw, he made quick work of the much needed protein.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked eventually looking around the camp. ‘I recall nothing after falling in the river.’

  Seren sat down and recounted everything that happened.

  ‘So what happens now?’ he asked.

  ‘We will wait while the wounded recover;’ she said, ‘the fit hunters will feed the people until they are well enough to move. Many have died, but many women and children who would return to the clans have survived. Soon I will return to the valley of the Long-tooth.’ She looked down. ‘I suppose you will be returning to your people?’

  Morlak recounted to Seren what Aarnoy had told him about their tribe waiting in the same valley.

  ‘So I have the pleasure of nursing you for a few more weeks yet,’ she laughed.

  ‘Is this a problem?’ asked Morlak seriously.

  ‘Oh, Morlak,’ she laughed hitting him lightly on the shoulder, ‘of course, it’s not a problem. I was making a joke.’

  ‘Joke?’ he enquired his bushy eyebrows rising.

  ‘Never mind,’ she sighed, ‘it is too difficult to explain. Now, let me sort out that wound. I don’t trust that Shaman, far too much nonsense in my eyes.’ She tended to Morlak’s injury, watched from a distance by the interested and amused eyes of Raven.

  ----

  The large makeshift caravan of people made their way slowly southwards over the next few weeks, taking their time to recover and enjoying what warmth there was in the autumn sun. Some of the injured and old died en-route, too weak to survive the strain of the previous few months. Each time, the column took their time to bury their dead with all the appropriate ceremony.

  Eventually, the survivors reached the great plains that marked the separating of their ways and a large fire was built to celebrate their deliverance from the terror. The hunters who had died were honoured in vivid stories of bravery while the weaker victims were celebrated with songs and prayers to the Sun-god.

  Though Seren spent some of her time with Raven and the others from her clan during the walk, most of the time she stayed close to Morlak, helping him through the day and tending to his wounds, while at night she curled up alongside him though under separate furs.

  Many people were still wary of the Neanderthal. Despite his role in their rescue, they were nervous of his different features and strange ways, so he deliberately stayed away from the celebrations, seeking his peace next to his own small fire. Seren approached him late into the night and sat alongside him, stirring the embers with a branch.

  ‘Tomorrow we will reach the valley of the Long-tooth,’ she said simply.

  ‘It has been a long journey,’ he said staring into the fire.

  She smiled a grim smile.

  ‘Too long,’ she agreed.

  ‘Seren,’ started Morlak, ‘I have been thinking...’

  ‘I cannot give you what you want Morlak,’ she interrupted quietly, ‘it is not possible. In our kind, the Shaman must remain untouched by man. The magic is renewed each month by the blood of the virgin.’

  Morlak looked up at her.

  ‘You think I just want to mate with you?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but more than that I want to spend the rest of my life close to you.’

  ‘But your species don’t mate for life,’ she said quietly, ‘you told me that, and even if it was possible, I could not share a man with someone else, even if I was not Shaman.’

  He spun around and grabbed her shoulders staring into her eyes once again.

  ‘Do you really believe that I could even see another female after spending so much time with you?’ he gasped. ‘I can’t explain what I feel; this is a new thing for me. All I know is that I don’t want to be with anyone else, and if that means that I will never lay with you, I am happy to pay the price.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘Let me stay with you,’ he begged, ‘I will not seek physical favour, I will hunt for you and tend the fires and I will protect you from your enemies. I may not know the pleasure of another woman, but at least I will be with you.’

  She stayed silent.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ he continued earnestly. ‘You can still be Shaman and I will still get to live at your hearth.’

  She gazed into his eyes, sad that this great warrior had lowered himself to this.

  ‘Oh, Morlak’ she said stroking his cheek gently, ‘you would do this for me?’

  ‘Till the day I die,’ he said quietly.

  She stared at him for a long time before looking away and breaking the moment.

  ‘There is much to think about,’ she said, ‘but now I have to return to the others.’ She started to walk away, but stopped and turned back to him.

  ‘I will give you your answer in the morning.’

  ‘Seren, you must know this,’ he said, ‘tonight I pay homage to Huan, our god. Today we passed a ridge with a great solitary tree.’

  She cast her mind back.

  ‘The Oak?’ she asked

  ‘In our language it is called the Druid-tree,’ he said. ‘To us it is sacred. It is ancient; it gives food, shade, water and medicine and stands whilst other trees fall. For this reason, we worship under its leaves. I will stay under its shelter this night. When the sun rises, if your decision is no, I will leave. I will not bother you again. Whatever happens, by the time the sun has cleared the horizon, it will be over.’

  Again, her face displayed a tight-lipped smile in the fire light.

  ‘Live well, Morlak of the Mwrllwch,’ she said.

  ‘Live well, Seren of the Fire-clan,’ he replied.

  She walked into the night to rejoin her celebrating people without a backward glance.

  ----

  The sky was still dark as Seren approached the Druid tree the following morning. She had stayed awake all night churning over the options and had made her decision. She climbed up the ridge and walked silently to the sleeping form of Morlak and stood for a long time staring down at him in the pre-dawn darkness until eventually, the first of the sun’s rays crept down from the horizon. Morlak opened his eyes, a sixth sense telling him he was not alone. He looked up at the silhouette of Seren standing over him.

  ‘Seren,’ he asked
, ‘is it you?’

  ‘It is me,’ she said quietly.

  He stood up quickly and faced her standing a few yards away. Her freshly washed and brushed hair hung shining down to her waist and her face glowed with the effects of the freezing bath she had taken in the nearby stream. The familiar but worn cloak hung from her shoulders.

  ‘You have made your decision?’ he asked.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘And do you agree?’

  She paused.

  ‘I do not,’ she said eventually.

  Morlak felt a pang of pain far greater than the knife wounds he had suffered.

  ‘Then I will say goodbye,’ he said and turned to pick up his things.

  ‘Wait, there is more,’ said Seren.

  He turned back

  ‘The Mwrllwch are a great tribe,’ she said, ‘and you are a great Mwrllwch. What sort of person would I be if I accepted you as nothing more than a slave?’

  ‘It would be my choice and I would be happy,’ he said

  ‘I would not.’ She responded and opened her hand to stare at the healed scar along her palm. The blood of the Mwrllwch runs through my veins and mine runs through yours. We are equals, you and I, and if we are to spend our life together, then these are my terms.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he whispered almost afraid to hear her answer.

  ‘Our people will not accept what I am about to do;’ she said, ‘they will not accept me back into the clan. Yet every time I think of the path my life must take, I keep coming back to the only thing I really want.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘You!’ She looked up at the boughs of the tree. ‘Before the rising sun of my people, and under the Druid tree of yours, I give myself to you, Morlak.’ She stepped forward. ‘If it is wrong, let us be judged by the Gods. Let only them decide.’ She unfastened her cloak allowing it to drop slowly around her feet, her naked body glorious before the rapidly rising sun. He held his breath transfixed at her beauty as she approached slowly in the warming dawn light.

  ‘But…you are Shaman,’ he stuttered, ‘if we do this you will not be able to perform your magic’