Manly Wade Wellman - Hok 01 (5 page)

 
          
Rescue from the Gnorrls

 
          
HE
picked up the trail where Barp and Unn had said he would. It was easy to trace,
and as he went northward he saw, in one or two spots, the clear-made tracks of
the Gnorrls,
Among
them were the distinctive narrow
prints of a true man’s foot.

 
          
Thus
guided, he crossed a little range of hills and came late in the afternoon to a
place where a year ago he had mentally set up the boundary of his hunting
grounds. A sloping height rose beside the river that poured down from the
north, and to the west were trees. Between the rising ground and the river at
the east was a very narrow strip of sandy beach that had once been part of the
river bottom. At the southern end of this strip lay a long jumble of boulders,
washed there in ages past by a greater river, now choked with sand and coarse
weeds.

 
          
The
Gnorrls had taken this low, narrow way and he followed them, observing as he
did so that the water had once risen here to considerable height, but that it
had fallen and now ran swiftly in its narrow channel, almost in rapids.
Emerging from the pass, he saw that the northern face of the rise fell nearly
perpendicularly, and that beyond a small meadow began semi-wooded country, with
thickets and clumps of trees and brush.

 
          
At
that time Hok may have been close upon the heels of the Gnorrl band, which
would be hampered by its prisoner; but he went no farther into strange country,
camping before sundown on the sand at the northern end of the tunnel between
river and height. The next morning he resumed his hunt, but moved slowly and
with a caution that may have been greater than was necessary. Thus, he did not
approach bushes, groves or other possible hiding places of Gnorrls without an
examination from all sides. His second night out from home he spent without a
fire, climbing a tree for safety from possible wolves or cave-lions. The
following day he spent in a treacherous and foggy swamp, and barely emerged
before it was nightfall again. This time he camped in a sort of burrow made by
the uprooting of a great tree, and in that shelter he dared built a fire.

           
Dawn almost brought disaster, for it
was a fearsome scream that brought him instantly erect, awake and alert as the
wild instantly are, to face the leap of a tawny, spotted sabertooth.

 
          
He
had no time to more than seize his javelin, drop to one knee, and present its
point to the charging monster.

 
          
Braced
against the ground behind him, it impaled the great cat from breast to spine.

 
          
Scrambling
from beneath its great weight, he wrenched his spear from the carcass and then
stared down in awe.
Fearsome things in this Gnorrl country.

 
          
AT
noon
of his fourth day he moved cautiously over
an open plain, sparsely covered with grass and heather, and bearing scant sign
of game. It was a poor country up ahead, he guessed, and he could not blame the
Gnorrls for wanting back the pleasant territory he and his were now holding.

 
          
The
lips of a valley lay northward, apparently formed by a curve of the river on a
lower reach of which his people camped. Toward this depression led the tracks
of the Gnorrls he followed—they must be within it. At once he dropped down and
began an elaborate creeping approach, flattening his long body in the heather.
After a time he saw a Gnorrl, then several more, emerge from the valley and
strike off westward, as if hunting. He waited for them to get well away,
then
resumed his lizardlike advance.

 
          
The
sun dropped down the sky, and down, as Hok drew nearer to the valley. He paused
at last—he heard a noise, or noises. That was the kind of noise made by many
throats and tongues; more Gnorrls must be in the valley. At length he won to
the brink, gingerly parted a tussock of flowered stalks, and gazed down a rocky
incline upon the floor of the valley.

 
          
It
was full of Gnorrls.

 
          
The
steeps that made up this slope of the valley fringed a great rounded level
space, a sort of vast enlargement of the guarded camp ground which Hok’s own
people had taken from the Gnorrls. In ancient times the river had been higher
and wider up here, too; this had been a bay or even a lake. Now a big dry flat
was visible, and this unlovely people gathered upon it, to make fires and
rubbish-heaps and stenches.

 
          
The
Gnorrls sat, singly or in family knots, around small, ill-made hearths. Some of
them toasted bits of meat on skewers of green
wood,
some chipped and knocked at half-finished flints, women chewed the fleshy
surfaces of hides to soften and smooth them. Little Gnorrls, naked and
monkeyish, romped and scuffled together
, shrilling
incessantly. Some of the old males grumbled to each other in the
incomprehensible language of the race, pausing now and then to wag their
unshapely heads as though in sage agreement. Over all went up an odor, so
strong as to be almost palpable, of uncleanliness and decay and
near-bestiality—an odor that had something in it of reptile, of ape, of musky
wolf, as well as something like none of these.

 
          
Hok
tried to judge how many there were. Like most intelligent savages, he could
count up to a hundred—ten tens of his fingers—but beyond that
was
too difficult. There were more than ten tens of Gnorrls,
many more. With something of a pioneering spirit in mathematics, Hok wondered
if there could not be a full ten of ten-tens; but there was not time to count
or add or compute, even if he could marshal the figures in his head.

 
          
Thus
he estimated the situation, as a good hunter and warrior should, half
instinctively and almost at first sweeping glance. His second glance showed him
the specified item he had come to note and to act upon.

 
          
Close
to the foot of the declivity, but well to the left of where Hok was peeping
down, stood a little gathering of Gnorrls, all full-grown males, and in their
center a tall figure. This one had a smooth dusky skin, a lean body, an upright
head with a black young beard —Rivv, no other. He stood free, though Hok
thought he could make out weals upon chest and arm that bespoke
recently-loosened cords. One big Gnorrl held Rivv by the wrist. Another held
out something to him.

 
          
Hok
stared, absolutely dumfounded. By all mysteries of all gods and spirits, known
and unknown, the Gnorrl was trying to make Rivv take a javelin! Why? Hok almost
thrust himself into view, in his amazed eagerness to see more. Then it came to
him.

 
          
The
Gnorrls had puzzled it out. Man, fewer and weaker than they, had one priceless
advantage, the javelin and the art of casting it. That was why Rivv had been
seized and kept alive. The Gnorrls meant to learn javelin-throwing. Rivv was to
teach them.

 
          
To
Hok’s distant ears came the voice of Rivv, loud even as it choked with rage:
“No! No!” And the Gnorrls understood his manner, if not his words. Their own
insistent snarls and roars beat like surf around the captive, and the Gnorrl
who offered the javelin thrust it into Rivv’s free hand and closed his fingers
forcibly upon it.

 
          
Far
away as he was, Hok could see the glitter of Rivv’s wide, angry eye. For a
moment the prisoner stood perfectly still, tense, in the midst of that clamoring,
gesticulating ring of monsters. Then, swift as a flying bird, his javelin hand
rose and darted. The Gnorrl who held Rivv’s wrist crumped with the javelin in
his breast.

 
          
For
one moment the other Gnorrls stood silent and aghast, their snarls frozen on
their gross lips. In that moment a loud yell rang from on high. Hok sprang
erect on the bluff, waving his javelin.

 
          
“Rivv!”
he trumpeted. “Riw, brother of Oloana 1 Run 1 Climb here
! ”

 
          
As
if jerked into motion, Rivv ran. So, a breath later, did the entire squat-
ting-place. Rivv dodged through his ring of captors and headed for the height.

 
          
“Climb!”
yelled Hok again, at the top of his lungs. Rivv climbed.

 
          
He
was active, but the rock was steep. He had barely mounted six times his own
height when the first of the pursuing Gnorrls had reached the foot of the
ascent. Stones and sticks of wood rained about Rivv, but by some unbelievable
fortune none of them hit. He gained a great open crack in the face of the
bluff, and swarmed up more swiftly. The Gnorrls were after him, scrambling like
monkeys for all their bulk. But Hok, falling at full length above, reached'
down a great hand, caught Rivv’s shoulder and dragged him up by sheer strength.

 
          
“Who
are you?” panted Rivv, staring at his rescuer.

 
          
Instead
of answering, Hok carefully kicked a great mass of stone and gravel down upon
the climbing Gnorrls. To the accompaniment of fearsome howls, both men turned
and ran.

 
          
It
was a splendid dash, on deer-swift feet given the further impetus of danger
behind. Nor did it cease until, long after dark, Hok and Rivv came to the edge
of the swamp and there made a fire. They talked long, and before they slept
they touched hands, shyly but honestly, in friendship.

 
Alliance

 
          
THE
midsummer dusk was thickening, and the half-moon of open space in front of
Hok’s cave was filled —with skin tents along the curve of rock, with cooking
fires, and with men and women and children. Most of them were strangers, quiet
but suspicious, dark of hair and sallow of skin in contrast to the tawniness
and ruddiness of Hok’s brothers and sisters.

 
          
At
a central blaze, small so that men might draw close, sat three grave figures.
Hok, the host, was youngest and largest and most at ease. Opposite him, his
long fingers smoothing his beard, was stationed Zorr, Oloana’s father, who had
last viewed Hok as his prisoner. The third man was the heavy, grizzed Nukl,
head of the clan from which Kaga and Dwil had come.

 
          
“This
meeting is a strange thing,” said Zorr weightily. “It has never happened before
that peoples who hate each other have met and eaten food and talked together.”

 
          
“Yet
it must be,” rejoined Hok, very slow and definite in his defense of the new
idea. “I sent your son, Rivv, back to you with the word to come. He and I are
friends. He vouches for you. This is good hunting ground, as you yourself have
seen.”

 
          
“I
think the meeting is good,” chimed in Nukl. “Kaga and Dwil came from you to say
that you were a true man, Hok. They said that there would be country and game
enough for all of us.”

 
          
“Why
do you do this?” Zorr demanded. “It is not usual that a hunter gives away part
of his good country for nothing.”

 
          
“There
are the Gnorrls to fight,” said Hok.

 
          
Every
ear within sound of his voice pricked up. Men, women and children paused at
eating or chattering, to listen.

 
          
“I
have told you about the Gnorrls, and of how Rivv and I saw that they intended
to return and eat us up,” went on Hok. “My people have killed many, but there
are more Gnorrls than we have javelins. You, Zorr, bring four men with you, and
Nukl has five, counting Kaga. My three brothers, whom I sent north to spy on
the Gnorrls, and I myself make four. With the women and boys who can throw
spears, we number three tens. That is enough to fight and beat the Gnorrls.”

 
          
He
felt less sure than he sounded, and perhaps Zorr guessed this. The southern
chief pointed out that his own people came from the south, where Gnorrls were
not a danger.

 
          
“But
too many hunters live there,” argued Nukl on Hok’s side. “The game is scarce.
You, Zorr, know that. Once or twice your young men and mine have fought over
wounded deer.”

 
          
“There
will be no reason to fight for food here,” added Hok. “Men need not kill each
other. If anyone wants to fight, there will be Gnorrls.”

 
          
“The
Gnorrls never troubled us,” reiterated Zorr.

 
          
“But
if they come and eat my people up, will they stop here?” asked Hok. “They have
learned that man’s flesh is good, and they may come into your forests, looking
for more.”

 
          
Nukl
sighed. “I think that I will have to stay. Zhik, the young man who is scouting
up north, is going to take Dwil, the daughter of my brother Kaga. Kaga wants to
stay, and I should help him if he is in danger.” His eyes shone in the fire
light. “Anyway, the Gnorrls have killed two of my people. I want some of their
blood for that.”

 
          
“That
makes the southern forest less crowded,” pointed out Zorr.
“Plenty
of room and game for my people.”

 
          
But
Hok had gained inspiration from what Nukl had said. “Zorr,” he replied, “your
son, Rivv, has asked for my sister, Eowi. She wants him to have her. I shall
give her to him—if he remains with me.”

 
          
Zorr
stiffened, almost rose. He muttered something like a dismayed curse. Hok
continued serenely:

 
          
“Two
of your children will be here when the Gnorrls come. Also, if Olo- ana is
spared, there may be a son, a child of your child—”

 
          
“I
shall help you against the Gnorrls,” interrupted Zorr, savage but honest in his
capitulation. “When does the fighting begin?”

 
          
“When
Zhik warns us,” replied Hok gravely. “It may be many days yet.”

 
          
AND
the remainder of the summer went in peace. Hok and his new allies hunted
successfully and ate well. Once a lone Gnorrl ventured close, to be speared and
exhibited to the strangers as an example of what they must face sooner or later.
The greatest item of preparation was the fashioning, by every person in the
three parties of new javelins—sheafs and faggots of javelins, some with tips of
flint,
others
armed with whittled and sharpened bone.

 
          
With
the first chill of autumn, Zhik and his two younger brothers came loping into
camp, dirty but sound. With them they brought the news that Hok had long
awaited with mixed attitudes of anxiety and determination.

 
          
The
Gnorrls were on the march. Up north in their country a blizzard had come, and
it had nipped the brutal race into action. They were advancing slowly but
steadily into their old haunts in the south.

 
          
“We
are ready to meet them here,” said Zorr at once, but Hok had another idea.

 
          
“No, not here.
A day’s march toward them is the best place.”

 
          
Quickly
he gave orders. Only the children remained at the camp before the cave. Barp
and Unn were ordered to take charge there, but teased and begged until at the
last moment Hok included them in the expeditionary force that numbered full
thirty men, women and boys. In the morning they set out northward.

 
          
Hok,
pausing at a certain damlike heap of stones, lifted his palm to signal a halt.
Then he gazed as if for the first time at the rocky slope beyond the narrow
level between it and the swift waters.

 
          
“We
shall fight the Gnorrls here,” he said definitely, and almost added that he was
sure of winning.

 
          
Zorr
and Nukl moved forward from their own groups, coming up at Hok’s elbows. They,
too, studied the ground that Hok was choosing for battle. “How shall we fight
them if there are so many?” Nukl asked.

 
          
Hok
pointed at the slope. “That leads to the top of a bluff,” he said. “The Gnorrls
will come from the north side, and will not climb, but will enter the pass
between it and the river. They can come upon us only a few at a time, and we
will have these rocks for a protection.”

 
          
“How
do you know that they will choose the pass?” was Zorr’s question.

 
          
“They
may go to the west, and through those trees.”

 
          
Hok
shook his head. “Before they come, we will set the trees afire—the sap is
almost out of them. And the Gnorrls will go east, into the pass.” Zorr and Nukl
glanced at each other, and nodded. Then Zorr addressed Hok again: “It sounds
like a good plan, better than any other. What shall we do?” “Zhik says that
there are more than ten tens of Gnorrls. A few of us shall meet them on the
plain beyond here, and make them angry. Then those few will run and draw them
into the pass. After that, it will be as I say.”

           
He gestured toward the crown of the
slope. “You, Zorr, shall be the leader there, with most of the men, to throw
javelins upon the Gnorrls when they are close together and rushing into the
narrow pass.”

 
          
“But
you?” prompted Zorr.

           
“I shall go, with my three brothers,
to meet the Gnorrls.”

           
“Me, too,” said Riw, who had come
forward and overheard part of the discussion. “I can run almost as fast as
you.”

 
          
“Very
well,” granted Hok over his shoulder.
“You, too, Rivv.
Now we must camp. First we will get ready, as far as possible
,.
Are the women here with the extra javelins?”

 
          
“They
are,” Nukl answered him. “Then I want some—as many as ten —laid midway between
here and the far end of the pass.” He turned around. “Oloana!” he called.
“Bring the javelins that you have.”

           
She came obediently, and they went
together to lay the weapons at the point he had chosen. For a moment he studied
them, then on inspiration picked them up and thrust their heads into the earth,
the shafts pointing almost straight upward. “They will be easier to the hand,”
he commented.

 
          
“Why
do you do that?” asked Oloana.

 
          
“You
will find out,” said her mate, rather darkly. Again he raised his voice. “Zhik,
are you
back
there? You and Dwil take more javelins to
the north end of the pass, and stick them there as I do here.”

 
          
Zhik
shouted comprehension of the order, and shortly afterward went trotting by with
Dwil. When the two rows of spears had been set in place, all four young people
returned to the barrier of stones. It was nearly evening.
Hok,
Zorr, and Nukl, as chiefs of their respective bands, kindled fires with
appropriate ceremonies.
Then there was cooking and discussion. Hok
repeated his defense plan for all to hear.

 
          
“The
women will stay back of these stones,” he concluded, “except those who go,
before battle, to set fire to the trees. I do not want anybody to run, unless
the Gnorrls get the upper hand. Then those who are able must try to get back to
the cave. The Gnorrls will have a hard time capturing that.”

 
          
All
nodded understanding, and both Zorr and Nukl spoke briefly to their own
parties, in support of Hok’s arrangement.

 
          
“When
will the Gnorrls be here?” Hok then asked his brothers, for the benefit of all
listeners.

 
          
“Tomorrow,”
replied Zhik.
“Probably before the sun is high.”

 
          
“Good,”
said Hok. “We must be awake by dawn, and take our places for the fight. Tonight
we shall sleep, and be strong and fresh.”

 
          
But
as the camp settled to repose, he could not sleep. Neither Oloana nor Zhik
could induce him to lie down. For hours after all had dozed away, he sat in the
brisk chili of the night, on a large stone of the barrier. Now and then he
weighed his axe in hand, or picked up a javelin and felt its shaft for possible
flaws. When he did close his eyes, he slept sitting up. Four or five times he
started awake, trembling from dreams that the enemy was upon him.