Climate of Change (27 page)

Then Craft saw a shadow between two trees. An enemy man was sneaking in. This show did not have much longer to run. The moment they caught on—

“You are impossible,” Crenelle reproved the dummy figure. “If it weren't that my husband is dying, I wouldn't do this.” She moved toward the dummy. Now Craft saw that she had also removed her skirt, and was naked.

Another dark figure appeared between two other trees. A second enemy man was revealing himself. This was amazing carelessness.

Crenelle shook herself, making all her flesh jiggle, and addressed the other dummy. The two enemy figures stood still, watching. Craft realized that they must understand more of the language than he had anticipated, and had become foolishly fascinated with the drama the woman was enacting. Would she kiss the demanding brother?

Then it seemed that the dummy lifted an arm and touched her body. “Get your hand off!” she cried, slapping it away.

Was that a Green Feather chuckle?

Then there was a whistle. Suddenly both visible men aimed their
bows, drew, and fired arrows into the dummies. There had to be a third man, that Craft hadn't seen, because at least three arrows struck.

Crenelle screamed, though she had not been hit. Of course not; the last thing the men intended was to kill this luscious woman. They were advancing on her, smiling with grim anticipation.

Craft loosed his arrow into the back of the nearest man. Almost simultaneously, the one nearest Keeper groaned and fell. Meanwhile Craft was nocking another arrow and orienting on the region where the third man had to be.

In a moment that figure came clear, because it was moving, turning to retreat. Craft loosed his arrow, and the figure cried out and fell.

“There's one more,” Crenelle cried, throwing herself to the ground so as to get out of the way. “There.” She pointed.

The fourth man cursed, drawing his bow. Then Keeper's arrow caught him in the chest, and he went down.

But was that all of them? They had to be sure, because Craft and Keeper could be ambushed as readily as they had ambushed the others.

“Whitepaw, Toughtail,” Keeper snapped. “Find!”

The two dogs leaped out of hiding and circled the copse, questing for enemy scents. In a moment they found one, and ran in pursuit, their noses down.

A shape loomed before the dogs. Craft oriented on it, waiting to be sure it was an enemy.

It drew a bow, aiming at a dog. That sufficed. Craft loosed his arrow, catching the man in the belly. He groaned and sagged. Then the dogs were on him, tearing at his throat.

That was the last of them. By the time Craft had made certain that all four Green Feather were dead, Crenelle was clothed again. He was almost disappointed; her charade had been intriguing, as had her body. He had of course possessed that body a thousand times, but in this unusual context it had assumed more startling allure than ever. She had done it, of course, to distract the enemy men, but in the process she had also distracted him, and perhaps Keeper.

That made him wonder, passingly. He had always assumed that if something happened to him, Crenelle would seek to marry Hero. He
was, after all, the chief, and a fine, strong man. But might it be the younger brother instead? No, that seemed just too unlikely. Keeper was after all only twenty, a year younger than she was. Craft couldn't imagine her ever marrying him.

They made ready to resume their trek to deliver the weapons to Hero. But the dogs sniffed the air, and paced nervously.

“I think there are more enemy in the region,” Keeper said.

Craft nodded. “We were lucky to escape without injuries. Best not to risk it again. We'll have to hide here until it seems safe.”

“Then we'd better bury the bodies,” Crenelle said.

They got to work. They were carrying weapons, not digging tools, but Craft was able to fashion two approximate spades from branches. Tools were always a great help, even imperfect ones. They excavated shallow pits beside each of the fallen men, Crenelle and the boys stripped the bodies of anything useful, interesting, or valuable. This was a good education for the lads. Nothing should be carelessly wasted. Then they rolled the bodies in and scraped the earth over them. The point was to conceal the fact that there had been a battle here, and to alleviate whatever smell might develop.

Burying was tedious work, and by the time they had finished, it was getting late in the day. The dogs remained nervous, which meant that Green Feather remained in the area. They would have to remain here the night, trusting that the morning would be better for completing their mission.

Crenelle foraged, checking around the copse to find edible fungus, tubers, leaves, and roots. Keeper helped her, for he knew more about plants than anyone. There would not be much in this limited section, but they did not dare go beyond it. Craft hoped they would find some water, too, for thirst was growing in him, and surely in the others too. It would also be chilly at night, for they did not dare start a fire.

Meanwhile it had fallen to him to watch the boys. So he produced stone knives, and found suitable sticks for carving. “We were doing birds,” he said. “Let's make nice ones for your mother.”

They agreed with young enthusiasm. He knew that whatever they carved and presented, Crenelle would welcome as wonderful. But it
was good practice regardless of its merit, for carving birds should help them develop skill that might later be employed to carve useful tools.

In due course Keeper and Crenelle returned, and while the woman set about doing what she could to make a palatable meal without fire, Keeper considered the boys' carvings. “Very good,” he said. “I wonder if I could do as well?”

Keeper set about carving a stick, and it was clear that he knew what he was doing. But he pretended to be unsure. “What shall I make?” he inquired.

“A bird,” Dex said.

“A girl,” Sin said.

Keeper pretended perplexity. “What bird? What woman?”

They hadn't thought of that. “A big hawk,” Dex decided.

“Mommy,” Sin said.

“All right.” He worked vigorously, shaping the image in the soft wood.

Craft and the boys watched, curious which it was actually to be: bird or woman. Either kind was acceptable, but obviously it had to be one or the other.

They saw the head of the bird form. So it was to be a bird. Dex smiled. But then the breast of a woman developed. And indeed, it became a hawk-headed woman. Now he was working on the hips and thighs, with the legs trailing into the wood, the feet not yet emerged. Keeper was indeed good at this. Evidently he considered a woman to be another type of animal, so he could render her well.

“It's ready,” Crenelle said.

Keeper stood and presented her with the bird woman. “This is for you,” he said. “By order of your sons.”

She stared. Then she laughed. “That's me, all right! Woman-breasted and birdbrained.”

The boys laughed, agreeing. It was no affront to have the wisdom of a bird; a bird goddess was very smart. And the breasts were indeed like hers.

The meal was far from perfect, but the mixture of things was edible,
and even the boys did not complain. They all knew that she would have done much better if they had had their normal foraging range.

They settled down for the night. Crenelle lay down with a boy embraced on either side, and Craft gathered leaves and mounded them over all three for warmth. Then Craft and Keeper took turns standing guard, for the Green Feather were treacherous and might come upon them when they least expected it. Craft was first, and Keeper made his own pile of leaves beneath a tree and slept.

After an hour, Crenelle stirred. She opened her eyes and looked around. Craft went over to reassure her. “No enemy near.”

“Good. But what I had in mind was a friend.” She raised her hand, and he caught it and helped draw her neatly out of the leaf-bed, leaving the two boys sleeping undisturbed.

“I know it's not fun out here,” he said as she came into his embrace. “You have coped very well.”

“As have you, my love.” She looked around. “But we should be quick, if you don't mind.”

“And silent,” he agreed, understanding her. She was offering him fast one-sided sex, not seeking any pleasure for herself other than that of giving him pleasure. Some other time she would demand far more from him, and he would gladly oblige, but this was not the occasion. “When you distracted the Green Feather, I thought you were the most lovely creature I had ever seen.”

“I knew you were watching too,” she said. “I wished death for them, and passion for you.”

“Both occurred.”

They walked to a tree, and she stood against it and embraced it for support. He stood behind her and reached around to caress first her breasts inside her jacket, then her buttocks under her trousers. He drew the trousers down just enough, and brought his member up to her bottom until it lodged in her warm cleft. She pressed back and he pressed in, until they were perfectly merged. He wanted to hold back, to prolong the delight of her soft posterior, but she mischievously clenched on him, and he climaxed immediately. Yet even one-sided
as it was, with no pretense of gratification on her part, he found it trans porting.

“Oh, Crenelle,” he breathed in her ear. “I love you so!” For answer, she tightened her buttocks, squeezing him lingeringly in her fashion.

Thereafter she returned to her bed, and he returned to his guard duty, much refreshed.

In due course he woke Keeper, and lay down to sleep in Keeper's bed of leaves.

In the morning they knew they would have to go on, because thirst would not allow them to remain here another day. Fortunately the two dogs were relaxed, so it seemed safe.

They detoured from the direct route just enough to intercept a stream they knew of, and eagerly slaked their thirst. Then they moved on with greater strength.

They reached Hero without further event. He was holed up in a rocky fort with a number of men. They had balked the Green Feather to a degree, but had not been able to go out and fight openly because they were short of spears and arrows. Now that was changed. They organized for a counterattack to drive the Green Feather out.

Rebel was there, with Harbinger and Brownback. The dog greeted his siblings enthusiastically, and so did Rebel. “I made it here, but couldn't go back,” she said. “They would have followed me, and you already had enough trouble.”

“We killed them, thanks to Crenelle's distraction,” Craft said.

She drew back the jacket she had gotten, as if to show a breast, lifting an eyebrow. He nodded. She understood the nature of the distraction. She had surely used it on Harbinger, in the night, too.

Hero was pleased to learn that the enemy force had been depleted by four men. That definitely gave the home force an advantage. Craft knew that they should be able to kill many enemy, and drive them well away from the homeland. It was an uplifting prospect, for they owed the Green Feather many bad turns.

Mal'ta represents the easternmost range of the “Venus” figurines that were known across Asia and Europe. The Mal'ta figures were not obese in the way of western images, but were definitely female. They also did birds, and some bird-women, as described. The figures that survived were in ivory and stone, but surely there were many others in perishable material.

Craft's revelation about the importance of tools to make tools was a true one. Only mankind does this to any significant extent, and it has led to considerable technological sophistication, as modern radios, submarines, and CAT scans show. The breakthrough of human specialization facilitated this, so that individuals like Craft could, through the ages, develop ever more intricate variations.

The evidence is that bad as warfare is in the present, it was worse in prehistoric times, being more brutal and with fewer ameliorating conventions or means to save the wounded from infection and malaise. Chronic warfare probably served as a significant limiting factor for population. Only in relatively recent times has population increase become phenomenal, so that mankind is displacing other species all around the globe.

After this time, there was a series of significant climatic changes that affected all the world, and this region. Steppe alternated with woodlands, until the end of the glacial period about 10,000 years ago. Then it changed rapidly and drastically. Rising sea levels swallowed Beringia and much of the northeast Siberian coast. With the warming came more diverse animals: cattle, ibex, sheep, red deer, roe deer, moose, reindeer, wolf, red fox, brown bear, wolverine, and arctic hare. The mam moth, bison, and horse disappeared in that region.

The people survived. But eventually they moved or were driven west, emerging to history perhaps as the Ira ni an peoples. One of these was the Sarmatians, and one of three Sarmatian tribes became known as the Alani, or Alans. It is the Alani we shall be following.