Zan-Gah: A Prehistoric Adventure (16 page)

When Chul signaled the attack it was launched abruptly, so that a fusillade of stones assailed these grotesque battle formations. Many wasp men fell before they were close enough to use their spears. Another barrage of stones completely broke and disorganized their ranks, and after a third, Zan's people rushed at them with their sharpened, red-tipped lances. Dael, among the foremost, fought with reckless bravery like a fiend, killing one after another in a feast of blood. He had no fear of death. Perhaps he still desired it. He thrust his spear into the belly of a wasp man whom he greeted by name, and ruthlessly pulled it out of his howling victim. Kicking the dying man in the face with all his might, he swung around to find another mark for his fury—and ran into his twin. Although Zan was his mirror image, Dael nearly killed him too before he realized who it was. Then, his face changing suddenly, he retired and let the others finish the battle.

A single formation of wasp warriors had held aloof, observing the battle from a higher position a short distance away. The others were in such a state of disarray that they were no longer a threat. With a wild yell Chul led the attack against this separate reserve of men. Fusillades of stones again broke the enemy ranks and poison-tipped spears incapacitated many as they fled. Helpless with pain, these unlucky wretches were seized and without mercy
flung screaming into the ghastly depths of the abyss they had so foolishly crossed. No prisoners were taken.

The rest of the wasp men were beaten, fleeing in terror and moreover deeply dismayed to find that the secret of their poison had been discovered. The clans would no longer be troubled by them. Within two years they had all perished, weakened by defeat and by their constant dissension and blood-feuds. Indeed, three of their principal leaders were murdered in their sleep by ambitious rivals, and the internal wars that followed were terrible. When a deadly plague struck—not for the first time—the wasp people were wiped from the face of the earth. Only Rydl survived, newly adopted and befriended by Zan's people.

 

For the second time in his life Zan-Gah was lifted as a hero onto the shoulders of his companions. (No one attempted to lift the well-deserving Chul!) Three days of wild celebration followed, held mainly by the great rock, Gah, from which Zan had gotten his name. These were men whose virtues were of the crudest sort. Many were the arts they had not yet mastered; but they knew how to rejoice, and surrounded as they ever were with death and disaster, each new day, as each new triumph, was indeed a cause for rejoicing.

“Men of victory!” Zan called above their din. “Remember the vow of friendship we have taken. No man may choose a wife within his own clan. This will be the path to our everlasting unity. I myself have promised to wed the granddaughter of Aniah with the permission
of her family, whenever they think the time is ripe. And now, to ratify our unity, let us choose a single name for our people. We will no longer be this clan of the north or that of the south. Let us rename ourselves!” Aniah then proposed that the newly unified people should call themselves the Ba-Coro, the People of the Sling. The new name was received with loud and universal acclamation.

The noble celebration was not complete without a ceremony of union, much like an actual marriage of the clans. It was a formal ritual and a holy one, taking shape at night under the glare of smoking torches. Siraka-Finaka and the women of Ba-Coro took charge of this activity, for it was within their provence. Pairs of the women arranged themselves in a long double row, each facing her partner and taking her shoulders in an arch to form a human tunnel. Then, with great solemnity and primitive chant, the males of every clan crawled through the female passage on hands and knees while the women struggled and churned as if in the throes of childbirth. This turbulent activity signified the birth and kinship of a great new clan, and a willing submission to it. The men now did as the
women
directed. After all had emerged from the human tunnel, they deeply intoned their most sacred hymn to the spirits of earth and sky:

When the Sky took Earth as wife

Giving love and giving life,

She gave birth unto our race,

Human virtue, human grace.

 

 

 

 

Dael had chosen to live. For a moment, when he crossed the great chasm, he had almost made up his mind to end his tormented life. Then the anxious face of Lissa-Na had told him her secret. She loved him—and needed him. How unworthy of that love he felt himself to be! He would have to stay alive for her, for Zan and the family, and go on enduring the devil phantoms that haunted and afflicted him. Afterwards, in the battle with the wasp men, he had succumbed for a time to his inward darkness and sought out the same death-wound he was dealing to his enemies. But again something within prevailed on him to go on living.

In the celebration of victory, the people rejoiced at his return, and made much of him. No man or woman but wished him well and said so. He ate and drank with them, and seemed to regain some of his energy and spirits. But at night he was visited by ghastly dreams which caused beads of sweat to stand out on his face. He was often seen gazing at the fire, his forehead twitching at some painful memory. More than once, in his blackest moods, he could
be observed frowning darkly, as if deeply pondering some cruel revenge. Whole days went by without his saying a single word. He never laughed or joked as in former days. Never!

Lissa the Healer understood more than most. She knew that just as there are wounds of the body, there are wounds of the soul, and that both might leave awful scars. The claw marks of Zan-Gah were visible and he was proud to show them. They gave him no pain. Dael's hurts were not to be seen or shown, but they were deep, and might never entirely heal. Lissa knew that his life was torture to him, and she bent all her efforts to help and relieve him. Dael passed in time from despondency to a melancholy irritability. Everybody was patient and asked little of him—which irritated him the more. Lissa-Na endeavored in every possible way to comfort, to distract, to salve—while at the same time trying to make her efforts as little noticeable as possible.

After a year or two Dael seemed better and he began to take his place in the activities of his people, but he was still silent, morose, and short of patience. One evening, as the last of the orange sun was sinking under the horizon, his father, Thal, came to him and told him he should marry.

“Who?”

“Lissa-Na.”

Dael paused. “Why not?”

Dael agreed to marriage without a word or thought, and Lissa accepted him as a homeless kitten that belongs to whoever takes it. Zan-Gah noticed with what indifference Dael received the young woman that meant so much to him, but he had long since realized that she was not to be his. With an effort he had put her from his mind and made other arrangements for himself. Zan's renouncement did not go unobserved by Lissa-Na, for she was not ignorant of his feelings, and she appreciated his silent sacrifice and love for Dael.

The council of elders made no objection to their union. In those remote days people married early, and often died young—frequently in childbirth. Zan-Gah, as he had promised, soon took Pax, the granddaughter of Aniah, for his wife. Aniah had long been as a second father to him and Zan felt honored to be his near relation. Although he had never ceased to admire Lissa-Na, he grew in time to deeply love his mate, albeit for different qualities. Chul and Aniah had already made their peace and eventually became good friends, even going hunting together. (And when are men more closely bonded than as fellow huntsmen?) All of the tribesmen took notice of the unlikely friendship of these former enemies, and it served as an example to them to forget old enmities.

Dael would heal in time, but he would not regain the glad disposition of his childhood. Many who knew him as a child wondered at the strange change that had taken place in him. It was for Lissa alone to penetrate a secret of great subtlety—that he who has been terribly hurt
will often, and against all reason, blame himself. And that conception can shake and poison his inmost being. In her generous heart Lissa understood—and Dael was grateful that he would not have to relive those terrible days by speaking of them.

Dael's melancholy sickness was not to be quickly cured. Even married, his relationship with his wife long remained almost as patient and nurse. But the beautiful soul of Lissa-Na and the love of his family could not be denied forever. One day, in the spring of the year, Lissa announced to her husband that she was with child.

Dael smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Warning: In his primitive world, Zan-Gah had to engage in a number of dangerous activities that should be avoided by the reader. Do not throw stones with a sling or use dangerous weapons, fish with your bare hands, taste unknown plants, climb or venture into dangerous places, nor hunt or attack animals, without the approval and supervision of your parents or a responsible adult.

If you enjoyed
Z
AN-GAH:
A P
REHISTORIC
A
DVENTURE
,
read the sequel,
Z
AH-GAH AND THE
B
EAUTIFUL
C
OUNTRY
.

The prehistoric saga continues as Zan-Gah and his disturbed twin brother, Dael, come into conflict. When their clan migrates to a new Beautiful Country, Dael's furious violence, joined with the magnetic power of his personality, precipitates division and an unwanted, preventable war.

 

A
T BOOK STORES, ONLINE, OR VISIT
WWW.ZAN-GAH.COM
.

 

Artist, teacher, actor, author, historian, and former Boy Scout,
A
LLAN
R
ICHARD
S
HICKMAN
was a professor of art history at the University of Northern Iowa for three decades. He now lives and writes in St. Louis.