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For Whom Fire Burnt.
Автор: S-Robert J. Tremain
Активность, связанная с книгой
Начать чтение- Издатель:
- S-Robert J. Tremain
- Издано:
- Apr 29, 2015
- ISBN:
- 9781310349799
- Формат:
- Книге
Описание
For Whom Fire Burnt.
This novel was completed in August 2000. It is a tale of how our pre-historic forefathers may have lived and survived through the great upheaval of a period of climate change. Much of the pre-history in the tale is fact whilst much of the human day to day living was determined, contrived, or pure imagination.
The time period of the novel is between 30 thousand and 40 thousand years ago, the late Palaeolithic,
The main characters are Homo sapiens, sapiens, our direct prehistoric biological ancestors. They share our brain capacity. They are cunning; can calculate, determine and reason.
Prior to Homo Sapiens a number of Hominids used naturally occurring fire. The use of fire by Hominin is likely to date back 600,000* to 1 million years. (*First used/controlled by Homo erectus on the African continent.). But the dating of the actual technology/art of causing/producing fire with friction tools still remains a puzzle.
Fire was always more than a mere source of energy. It was also a means of esteem, social status and personal power. It allowed food to be cooked and more edible. Cooking food brought people together and the holder of fire was revered as the master of ceremony and a person of note and prestige.
Hundreds of thousands of years passed. Eventually the skill of making fire by friction methods evolved. Human kind knew without a doubt, this was an enormous technical breakthrough. This novel know-how and technology were prized. The knowledge, skills and tools would become the corner stone to human progress across planet Earth. Meanwhile in remote isolated pockets on Earth indigenous human’s societies may have already developed their unique skills of the fire lighting prowess beyond the European Homo sapiens. E.g. The Indigenous Australians and American Indians. Overall the skills were reasonably similar; composed of two sticks being driven at right angles directly on dried leaves. Other times it was a bow of dried animal intestine twirling an opposing stick to grind friction in a hearth of leaves, also used were two stones ground together with dried leaves locked between to cause combustion, Refined finally was the precision pestle and bowl to grind leaves into smouldering embers. All methods based on friction generating heat.
For humans to make fire was a miracle. Fire had previously always come from lightening strikes, hot gurgling volcano lava or spontaneous combustion of materials. So it was not surprising these new developed innovative skills were guarded, kept secret from friends and foe. Fire making skill was a valued profession. It was a massive commercial resource and some of our pre-historic forefathers decided to commercialize the process. During the same period as fire lighting was commercialized the Homo sapiens realised that many human items could be mass produced, improved and marketed - for a profit. Encouraged by the success of fire making know-how, the entrepreneur had arrived on planet Earth. Innovation sprung up wherever the Homo sapiens walked. They conquered the planet; their supremacy had dawned.
Yet an Ice Age was about to engulf them.
Our forefathers knew hunger, wealth, greed and lust. Being human they experienced anger, sorrow and affection. They dreamt, wondered, knew the depths of their soul and some times walked with dignity. These humans loved and loved deeply. They embraced hope.
Their known world in a catastrophic climate change they strove to survive. They were driven always by a perpetual hope in a better way for a better tomorrow.
Between us and our pre-historic forefathers there is no difference. They are us, we are them.
Активность, связанная с книгой
Начать чтениеСведения о книге
For Whom Fire Burnt.
Автор: S-Robert J. Tremain
Описание
For Whom Fire Burnt.
This novel was completed in August 2000. It is a tale of how our pre-historic forefathers may have lived and survived through the great upheaval of a period of climate change. Much of the pre-history in the tale is fact whilst much of the human day to day living was determined, contrived, or pure imagination.
The time period of the novel is between 30 thousand and 40 thousand years ago, the late Palaeolithic,
The main characters are Homo sapiens, sapiens, our direct prehistoric biological ancestors. They share our brain capacity. They are cunning; can calculate, determine and reason.
Prior to Homo Sapiens a number of Hominids used naturally occurring fire. The use of fire by Hominin is likely to date back 600,000* to 1 million years. (*First used/controlled by Homo erectus on the African continent.). But the dating of the actual technology/art of causing/producing fire with friction tools still remains a puzzle.
Fire was always more than a mere source of energy. It was also a means of esteem, social status and personal power. It allowed food to be cooked and more edible. Cooking food brought people together and the holder of fire was revered as the master of ceremony and a person of note and prestige.
Hundreds of thousands of years passed. Eventually the skill of making fire by friction methods evolved. Human kind knew without a doubt, this was an enormous technical breakthrough. This novel know-how and technology were prized. The knowledge, skills and tools would become the corner stone to human progress across planet Earth. Meanwhile in remote isolated pockets on Earth indigenous human’s societies may have already developed their unique skills of the fire lighting prowess beyond the European Homo sapiens. E.g. The Indigenous Australians and American Indians. Overall the skills were reasonably similar; composed of two sticks being driven at right angles directly on dried leaves. Other times it was a bow of dried animal intestine twirling an opposing stick to grind friction in a hearth of leaves, also used were two stones ground together with dried leaves locked between to cause combustion, Refined finally was the precision pestle and bowl to grind leaves into smouldering embers. All methods based on friction generating heat.
For humans to make fire was a miracle. Fire had previously always come from lightening strikes, hot gurgling volcano lava or spontaneous combustion of materials. So it was not surprising these new developed innovative skills were guarded, kept secret from friends and foe. Fire making skill was a valued profession. It was a massive commercial resource and some of our pre-historic forefathers decided to commercialize the process. During the same period as fire lighting was commercialized the Homo sapiens realised that many human items could be mass produced, improved and marketed - for a profit. Encouraged by the success of fire making know-how, the entrepreneur had arrived on planet Earth. Innovation sprung up wherever the Homo sapiens walked. They conquered the planet; their supremacy had dawned.
Yet an Ice Age was about to engulf them.
Our forefathers knew hunger, wealth, greed and lust. Being human they experienced anger, sorrow and affection. They dreamt, wondered, knew the depths of their soul and some times walked with dignity. These humans loved and loved deeply. They embraced hope.
Their known world in a catastrophic climate change they strove to survive. They were driven always by a perpetual hope in a better way for a better tomorrow.
Between us and our pre-historic forefathers there is no difference. They are us, we are them.
- Издатель:
- S-Robert J. Tremain
- Издано:
- Apr 29, 2015
- ISBN:
- 9781310349799
- Формат:
- Книге
Об авторе
Связано с For Whom Fire Burnt.
Отрывок книги
For Whom Fire Burnt. - S-Robert J. Tremain
Contents
Part 1 - From Ashes to Ice
Part 2 - Beyond Ice to Paradise
Part 3 - At Nature's Mercy
Part 4 - The Other Side of Darkness
Part 5 - Firespear
Part 6 - In the Seed of the Family
IN THE BEGINNING
Thousands of years ago Europe was entombed in ice. A period of plant devastation and animal starvation took hold . It was a time of suffocating snowstorms and glacial horizons. An era known forever in legend as 'The Darkness' prevailed.
The ruling class at the time perished. The Neanderthals were obliterated. Exact accounts of their demise remain blurred.
With the Neanderthals extinction, the migratory Homo sapiens controlled all sources of power and food. Earth entered an era of unprecedented revolution. With their supremacy over all resources, the Human conquest of planet Earth was ultimate.
PART 1
From Ashes to Ice
CHAPTER 1.
The night was black and the moon a pearl. High atmospheric winds swept silver clouds below the moon. Moonlight sparkled, pranced then dashed above the desert. The moon's scurry between clouds almost bewildered and sent shivers of suspicion amongst the weary tribe of Neanderthals. Gerd, the leader, raised his arms, signalling halt. Gerd's green eyes filled with apprehension. His heavy brow creased. His protruding jaw twitched as he looked, puzzled by the moon. The tribe of Neanderthals paused in a line across the plain, their murmurs of didquiet rippled above the dusty desert floor.
Then on the cliff, towering above the plain, a man wearing a leather eye-patch aimed a massive spear. His silky black hair whipped across his left shoulder. His muscles tensed. His one eye glared vigilantly. His exhaled breath was lion-like as the spear hurtled through the air, soaring into the valley. Its gruesome head whirred as it spun. Gerd heard the whistling sound. Six hundred and twenty-six Neanderthals heard the sound. They glanced at each other, confounded by the approaching whistling sound. A young boy waddled to Gerd's side, his malformed leg dragging in the sand. He held Gerd's arm and looked up to see the huge javelin slicing down through darkness towards them. One tall man with a speckled beard thrust his spear into the air, trying to deflect the plummeting missile. On impact, the night exploded - brilliant white. There was enormous sucking of air and searing heat. The young boy's face was partially charred like burnt potato skin. Screams of agony turned to whines of horror. Gerd's arm was ripped from his body. The crippled boy was catapulted into the sands, still holding the detached arm. Ten men at Gerd's side were instantly blinded, their eyes black pockets of fright. The spear's shell casing ripped open one man's neck. His head fell into the sand like a ruptured melon. Blood spat then pumped from his severed neck. A woman's stomach lay ripped open and her intestines spilled from her body. An unborn child slid out from her womb dangling by the umbilical chord.
On top of the gorge, Garth released the cable of the massive catapult. Through the night hurtled the second missile of annihilation. Then the man with the eye-patch hurled another deathly spear into the valley. Cries of carnage echoed across the plain. Gerd lay rolling on the ground his hewn arm curled on the sand still twitching. The fire-ball hit the ground in the centre of the horde of Neanderthals, exploding furiously, turning twenty men and children into an inferno. Petrified, the others huddled together like a mound of squirming maggots. They wriggled close to one another, wept, screamed and yelled in terror as flames and cindering heat melted bodies into a pile of blood and charred skin. More missiles chimed from the opposite cliff face. One Neanderthal's heart was stripped from his torso and careered through air like the splattered dung of a passing gull. The young boy with the deformed leg hobbled around the huddle of hundreds, shrieking out for his mother. He found her. In flames, and without uttering a word, she sank like powder to the moonlit sand, her burnt face blank granite. A man's ear toppled from his head, sliced cleanly with the butchering slash of a disintegrating shell. For a moment he stood like a statue. Then turned and tried to walk, but fell quietly, like a lonely blown away leaf. His brains hung to the ground from his severed skull.
Another missile sped through the air whistling then yawning in descent. The eel cables still quivered vibrantly around the catapult's yoke. An old man with a wart on his neck was hit front-on in the chest. He blew apart into a thousand pods. Huddled around him a petrified group of men and women clutching each other lit up like candles. They perished like melted wax into the sand.
A little blonde girl whimpered as she cuddled her burning toy bear, unaware that her legs were missing she toppled over. The bear rolled away from her ablaze.
Gerd forced himself to his feet. Then like a defiant gladiator he thrust upwards his good arm and yelled,Why? Garth why, brother..?
He spat in the direction of the two men on the top of the hillock, his voice trailing off into a murmur. Betrayed, you've betrayed me - us!
He fell to the ground clutching his arm stub. Eventually releasing his brutalized shoulder, he took his spear and drove it steadily into his heart.
Garth's face turned to stone. The entire horror was haunting. He turned to look up at Firepear, and whispered, This is not…
Garth agonized. He was was horrifeid. He wrung his tight fingers of fists through his blonde hair. This is not what we planned.
Garth was soul stricken by what they had inflicted. They are all dead.
His despairing voice pleading, Not the plan… it all went wrong… Why?
Ashamed, Firespear's head fell pitifully. Never again
He mumbled, Surely never, never - never again…
The two men walked slowly down into the valley of death overwhelmed by grief. Below they would witness with incredible sorrow their unwitting massacre, annihilation, their lethal victory of an entire race.
CHAPTER 2
Seven years earlier in the Valley of Davinia.
A velvet mist glided through the gorge. Tall trees prised their leaf tips through a chiffon mist. The vertical granite faces of the valley were a checker-board of caves. Dark clouds gathered above the valley.. TClaps of thunder echoed and arteries of lightning pulsed. Garth shivered as he stooped to pass through the cave door. His blue eyes immediately fixed on the swarming clouds. In his lifetime the sun had travelled to the far south of the sky and returned fifteen times. He flinched as a rumbling crescendo of thunder echoed through the valley. A jagged lightning spear stabbed at the valley.
Two trees standing side by side in the valley snapped, one exploding into a fireball. Garth acted quickly; he needed to get to the fire before it was quenched. He dashed across to Maxim's cave. Heavy droplets of rain smudged the ground. Maxim Fire!
Garth's voice was firm and urgent, Fire in the valley!
Maxim's big bulk immediately appeared at the opening of his cave. Let's move!
We'll wrap it in boar's hide,
suggested Garth.
We still get burnt,
Maxim replied.
The conk shell and leather hide.
Garth said swiftly. Then we'll get Wallick on the way down.
Pellets of rain hammered their bodies as the men ran down into the valley, Hog's breath!
Max cursed. Will we get there in time?
Wallick had joined them and the team hurried down into the valley. Wallick was panting. He insisted, You go on. I'll remain at the at the forest's edge. I'll carry the bundle of fire up the valley.
This was the hardest part of the recovery and he was the best runner
Weaving up the valley between boulders and dashing across slippery stone, whilst balancing a conch shell of embers, required courage and agility. The howling wind blasting through the valley could snuff out the fire in a second. The shell of burning embers was held so close to the body that the last strategic courier would likely end up with blistered flesh.
Maxim and Garth dashed through the forest to the stream of smoke that spiralled from the flaming scrub. I'll grab a burning branch with the hide,
said Garth. You hold the shell.
Done,
agreed Max. Garth reached the burning thicket first and bound the hide around a fiery branch, reefing it from the shrub. He bundled it into a ball and crammed the burning twigs and leaves into the conch shell. Garth added extra dry twigs and leaves to ensure a good fire. Like a demon, Maxim charged back through the forest, the fiery shell balanced in his hands. Garth followed closely behind. Within a minute Maxim was next to Wallick. On the way Garth had grabbed more twigs and leaves. This damp kindling would soon be aglow buried, in the embers of the conch. Maxim cautiously handed the shell to Wallick, who began the perilous climb. The crucible of fire was clutched tightly to his chest. The rain was now torrential. Garth and Maxim clambered behind Wallick like scavenging wolves. If Wallick dropped the shell they would recover it. Half-way up the rocky gorge Wallick had to hurdle a stream that had sprung to life. He slipped then stumbled, almost spilling the contents of the shell.
Garth worried for his friend. Take it to your cave Wallick. It's the closest.
I have no wood,
he replied.
What about you, Maxim?
None.
Then we must get to my cave.
Garth forced aside his drenched hair and yelled to Wallick, Can you make it?
My hands are blistered,
cried out Wallick. I'll make it though -definitely.
Garth's jaw tightened. No I'll take it up!
he shouted. It's my duty. I should have brought the tortoise shell.
It's too late now,
Maxim said, puffing. Let's hope you can get there.
Garth despaired: Wally's hands will be burned to cinders.
Wallick faltered. Garth and Maxim could smell his burning flesh. Put the shell down, Wallick. It's my turn,
said Garth strongly.
Wallick stopped in his tracks, exhausted. He bent over and lowered the glowing conch of embers to a rock shelf. Agonisingly, Wallick prised open his hands as blood oozed from the burns. Then steam hissed as heavy rain splattered his palms. Gingerly he released the conch. Charred skin on his palms and fingers peeled away. He'd held the searing shell so close to his antelope jacket that his face was the now the ruddy glow of sunset, his beard incinerated.
Garth and Maxim went to him. Garth gazed at Wallick's hands. Max, take Wallick to his cave immediately. Swab deer fat on his palms and fingers.
Wallick replied feebly, looking in agony at his own hands, We should've planned this better.
Garth was exasperated by the brutal cost they often paid for collecting fire. We can't plan better. We never know where lightning will strike,
Garth said firmly
*
The following day rays of sunlight filtered into the cave. Garth gathered two animal skins about him and left the cave to sit on the rocks. From this position he could peer down into the valley. He could hear the panting run and watch the stampede of deer and boar. Silver wisps of smoke from a cooking fire wafted their way up the valley. Someone was barbecuing antelope. He knew the aroma. The fire they used today came from his ember, so he looked forward to his share of the meat.
A stream coiled its way through the valley, its slopes a feeding ground for every type of animal. Deer, rabbits, bush fowl and bears roamed and grazed here; the valley was a rich source of food.
There were thirty caves in a checker pattern up both sides of the valley gorge, home to one hundred and thirty-three humans, Homo sapiens.
Garth looked out across the valley from his vantage point beyond the cave like a monolithic egg one rock nestled on the plateau to the east interrupting a sweeping panorama. He decided that today he was going to trash the boulder into the valley.
A rumbling roar rang from the valley and Garth's thoughts jolted back to the present. A trumpeting crescendo that trailed off into a long moaning howl.
Soon a putrid stench would drift up the valley walls, seeping through every cave. The rancid odour would hang heavily, reeking like rotting meat, a mammoth's fart.
Garth returned to the cave. Like a pixie, Fer his partner, was fussing around rising from her bed of possum skins. The skins were a padded cover to a bed of leaves. The hides also served as blankets. Sharer ran to her uncle, her sapphire eyes wide with loathing. A mammoth's farted!
Sharer was eleven with mousy hair. They're not going to kick dung - are they?
For a time there was silence then the whirring whistle of an incoming missile grew louder.
Mammoths kicked and socked their own dung in their territories as flags of ownership and supreme strength. Dark melons of dung became cannon balls of power belted throughout the valley. Today was no exception! Shit flew! Big shit flew!
A gooey mound hurtled through the cave door, a spinning satellite, on target for Fer. Just as she stood-up it slammed into her, blotting out her face.
Her hands flew in the air. Ugh!
Garth calmly shook his head. "Hell
No,
Beandra giggled aloud. Just mammoth poop!
Repulsed, Fer didn't dare move. Get this off me!
she squealed. Quick!
Fer's face now submerged in a mudpack of dung.
Sharer collapsed to her knees cackling. Contorted in a fit of laughter, Beandra joined her rolling on the floor. They sniggered hysterically.
Fer cursed indignantly, You lousy bunch! You beasts.
Come on girls,
Garth protested. Help Fer.
No, I'm right.
Fer was peeved. I'll fix myself. What help would they be?
Come on Fer.
Just leave me alone!
she demanded.
The girls didn't mean to laugh.
She glared at Garth, her eyes glistening from beneath the coiled mask drooling from her face.
Suck hogs breath!
She snatched up her animal hides, flung them over her shoulder and strode off in a huff. The girls choked back their laughter.
Do you want to talk about it?
Garth called out.
No,
she said strongly.
Okay.
You're no better then your father!
she blurted. A broken down dreamer.
Garth said nothing. Fer felt he was on the defensive. She re-entered the cave. Haven't you told your nieces, our leader died a shell - less man.?
He was unmoving. Get out of here.
Fer stuck her second finger in the air and continued to walk. I'm not coming back!
I'm in luck.
That's a first.
Garth watched her walk. Why don't you put that finger somewhere?
Beandra quipped under her breath, Yeah in your nose.
Sharer and Beandra went to Garth. Don't worry,
Beandra defiantly swung back her dark hair. We're better off without her. She was a snake!
Worse,
agreed Sharer. She was a toad and a full blood Neanderthal!
That bad,
said Garth.
Beandra's brown eyes grew wide. She was.
Garth chuckled. She did look like a Neanderthal, ape-like, that dung coiled around her face.
Both the girls laughed then Beandra asked, Will our real mother ever come back?
He hugged both of the girls warmly. I don't think so.
Never?
implored Sharer.
He shook his head. Kara has gone forever.
He paused and said, We've got each other.
What did she mean about your father?
inquired Sharer.
Your great uncle died with some unfinished plans.
Oh… That won't happen to you.
Beandra whispered, I wish Hala a real mother was here…with us…now.
CHAPTER 3
Three days later Garth looked out across the valley from his vantage point beyond the cave. Like a massive egg, one monolithic rock nestled on the plateau to the east, interrupting a sweeping panorama. With this out of the way he would have a perfect and free view or any roaming animals below. He decided that today he was going to trash this annoying boulder into the valley.
He whittled a hardwood stake from a straight branch. This pike was as tall as two men were and had a mallet head honed to a point. This pike was going to serve as a crow bar to wedge beneath the boulder. With this tool, the rock would be tumbled into the valley. Garth drove the bar deep into a crevice below the rock. He heaved and pushed with all his strength.
Inside the cave, Sharer and Beandra were playing a game with small tors. These grey pebbles had white and black marbling. With five tors the games involved each player flicking with thumb and finger a marbled tor into a cavity the size a fist in the dirt floor. Both girls knelt on the ground about a metre from the hole.
I bet you three shells, I get the first marble in,
said Beandra.
Uh-huh.
She said to her sister, You haven't got any shells to bet with. Have you? You spent all your shells last week on honeycomb.
I have too! I've got extra shells under my bed.
Ah! Bulls can roar!
said Sharer. Those shells are Garth's. Anyway,
Sharer continued, you're just trying to make me bet. If you win, you will take my shells. If I do win - you won't pay - you're a cheat!
Not!
Beandra sneered. I'm just a better player.
Beandra rose from the floor and stormed off in a huff. I'm going to the stream.
Can I come?
Beandra shook a finger at her sister. Just don't call me a cheat.
Sharer and Beandra left the cave. They were clothed in deerskin furs. Garth was still trying to wedge the stake beneath the rock.
We're going to the stream,
Sharer called out.
Be careful,
Garth warned, turning around as they departed. Winter's coming. The stream is icy.
They wandered down the track leading to the valley.
Garth grasped the stake in both hands, applying all his weight. The rock did not budge. Underneath the rock the stake was pressed hard against dried leaves and twigs that had collected in the crevice. Unable to drive the stake further, Garth clasped it in his flat palms and made it spin. The bar dug further underneath the rock. Garth spun harder and the stake drilled quicker and deeper. For a time he continued this rigorous drilling then he caught the whiff of burning leaves. He paused, stopped drilling, looked around, saw nothing then resumed with determination, driving the spinning stake. Slowly, wriggling from under the rock rose a puff then a plume of smoke. He stopped again, knelt down, spellbound by the little spiralling snakes of smoke. The smell of burning grew and he watched astonished bright waxing flames of fire blossomed from the earth. Flames ran up the stake and smoke curled around the shaft He felt the heat flow up to his hands. Smoke swooned, flames danced, and fire had come to life! He had caused this to happen! The dry leaves asleep below the boulder were burning bright. He was excited. He had caused fire. He was thrilled. He whispered to himself, I must know how this happened. I need to understand.
Almost like the smoke itself, a vision from Garth's childhood drifted back. Then it engulfed him. The memory swept back. It filled him with fear. It penetrated his brain like a lizard slipping into his skull. He remembered. He remembered an old man showing him the rubbing sticks…the making of fire. He remembered how the old man looked. He was Neanderthal .The old man never spoke. They knew how to make fire. Was he my grandfather? Was he? Garth asked himself. I am not sure. Is that why my father died ashamed? Am I part Neanderthal? I do not look like one. Surely, I am not. My mother was fair and from the icy nort.
Garth shut it from his thoughts.
Elated with his knowledge of how to cause fire, Garth could not wait to tell his nieces. He made his way swiftly down into the valley, to the grassy clearing near the stream. The banks of the stream were deserted. He ran back up the slope to view the entire area. Sharer? Beandra?
There was no answer. Sharer! Beandra!
He stopped, hoping to hear a reply. Eventually it came, a muffled cry, from the stream.
Garth dashed down to the water's edge. He called again. Fear grew in him. Girls, where are you?
Over here,
they cried. Over here!
A thick sheet of ice covered the stream. Both children's feet were locked in solid ice. They could not move. Their teeth chattered, as they called to Garth, their fear uncontrollable. Garth, please help? Oh please help.
Second by second, their feet were sinking, encapsulated in ice. Garth bounded onto the ice sheet. Not to rupture the ice he went down on all fours. He clawed his way towards the girls. His knees now and then punctured gaps in the ice. As he reached the girls the ice crumbled, cracking slowly, it splintered before him. Sharer and Beandra spun away on an island of ice. It drifted, turned again then silently floated downstream. Garth stood isolated on the remaining ice. Don't worry!
He yelled, I'll get there.
Locked on the plinth of ice they slid along with the current. Thirty metres away raised the heavy white mist of the precipice of the waterfall, a fall of over sixty metres, and a cascade of glassy thunder. A crystal column of water disgorging itself over the top and pulverising the rock pools in the valley far below.
Garth pelted along the shoreline, chasing the fleeing ice chunk. The ice island changed direction in the water's eddies, now dancing towards the bank. Garth snatched at a broken branch and waved it towards Beandra. Her arm stretched out, her eyes bulging with terror as she groped for the branch. She lurched as far as possible. However, the branch drooped, limply sagging into the stream. Garth dived into the freezing water. Gasping, he swam furiously towards the ice chunk. The current was strong and savage. He grabbed, but only broke off fragments of ice. He lunged again. The ice-island spurted towards its doom.
The ice plinth swayed, spun and waltzed, tipping to one side, the hungry surge of the waterfall's precipice. The waterfall engulfed the ice chunk in a monstrous swallow. Garth listened to the descending cry of terror of his nieces. With all his might he leapt through the last eddies of water towards the tumbling edge and curling curtain of the waterfall. From way below the girl's screams echoed in his ears.
Punching out of the spray a massive wingspan of six metres sailed across the vertical face of the waterfall. A huge bird swooped past to snatch a fish from the cascading water. The pterodactyl, a post-Jurassic throwback, parachuted into the plunging water, its talons clawing to snare. The ice chunk collided with its back and the bird's flight faltered, as if its engines spluttered. Sharer and Beandra were secure; the ice locked onto the bird's feathers. The bird flapped its giant black wings and headed away with the cargo of two girls. Garth felt enormous relief: his nieces were safe. He continued his death roll tumble. The last thing he remembered was a massive flash of water as he plunged into a rock pool. The huge bird with two passengers flew out of the valley.
When Garth regained consciousness, he was lying on the shoreline. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over, happy but mystified by the large bird that had rescued his nieces from possible death.
Hobbling back up to his cave Garth came across Wallick and the elder of the valley, Gleb.
What happened to you?
Wallick asked with real concern. You look terrible.
My nieces fell over the waterfall and me
Unbelievable!
Wallick was astonished. Where are they?
They flew away on a giant black bird.
Gleb was totally astonished. His chest filled as he took in a huge breath. What!
He guessed Garth was delirious.
Gleb suggested softly, We'll take you home.
With Gleb and Wallick assisting Garth's headed home. Garth's bones began to ache less, and the gnawing, tingling coldness receded. They arrived at the cave and Garth hurried inside, hoping the children had returned. The cave was empty. The fire was no longer burning.
Your fire's gone out,
said Wallick, come to my place.
No,
said Garth, I'll be all right. I'll make another one.
Wallick and Gleb both gazed at him concerned. Garth suggesting that he could make fire was outrageous!
I'll be okay, truly. I'd rather go back to the stream. Maybe they'll turn up there.
Gleb spoke gently. You need a sleep friend. We will go and search the stream - and get food. You change into dry skins. Stay here and wait
Maybe you're right.
Gleb returned to his cave on the other side of the valley to collect a fire torch and hot food, whilst Wallick ran back down into the valley to search the stream.
Garth decided to make a fire outside, a beacon, for his nieces to find their way home. He hoped dearly they had not fallen from the bird. He imagined his nieces tumbling from the flying creature and splintered like a bundle of sticks throughout the valley.
Putting the thought aside, Garth retrieved his stake. With dried leaves and twigs, a hard bed stone for grinding, he made fire again. He added logs and branches to the small bristling fire.
On the bird, Sharer discovered that by changing her weight from side to side she could make the bird glide in a particular direction. They were flying the big bird home like a kite. The ice chunk had melted, leaving the two clinging to the big bird's feathered neck.
Flying the big bird was glorious; they soared and fell, mingling with air. Looking down at the stream way below and gliding above treetops was spellbinding. The speed was exhilarating, beyond anything, they knew.
Discovering little at the stream, Wallick was the first to hurry back to Garth's cave. His jaw almost hit the ground when he saw the burning fire outside. Incredible! How…did you do that?
Garth just gazed at him emptily. I fanned the old fire inside with a hide.
Garth said, It came back to life.
You were lucky.
Suddenly a shadow spread over both men as the monstrous bird glided to a perfect landing outside the cave. Garth was thrilled to hear the jubilant cries of his nieces. We're so, so glad to be home!
Sharer and Beandra slid down from the bird, rushing to their uncle. Garth ran to his nieces and hugged both of them, proclaiming joyfully, So am I.
He stared at the huge bird, its brows furry and ruffled with flashes of red and yellow. The body was a mass of bushy jet-black feathers. It squawked and pecked at the ground. Wallick stood there, mesmerised. I would have never believed it,
he moaned.
Later that night in the flickering shadows of the fire the bird appeared massive and haunting. Its bright eyes were shining embers peering above a shiny curved beak.
Sharer stated promptly, I know how to fly the bird.
So do I,
said Beandra.
Incredible,
said Wallick, shaking his head.
Wallick's right - it is a miracle!
Garth paused and suggested, Maybe we should thank the bird. Give it food and water.
Of course!
they agreed.
Sharer ran into the cave. Beandra remained beside the bird. Thank you bird for bringing us home. I hope you stay.
The huge bird stared at her with watchful eyes. This would not be the last time Beandra would talk to the bird.
Wallick watched the scene, totally flummoxed. The huge bird nestled by the miraculous fire with Beandra talking to it. Sharer was running around, excited, by having done the impossible: fly and return home safely on the wings of this huge gliding beast.
Wallick could only say, This is a great day for you, Garth.
I've been lucky. We've all been lucky.
Luck nothing,
exclaimed Wallick. You must have deserved it. You are on fire brother! I'll head off.
Thanks for your care Wallick.
Wallick grinned then headed down the mountainside. See you at the Club. Oh,
Wallick paused, remember, Gleb is bringing up food. Do you still want him to come up?
No need to. Tell him thanks.
Wallick's voice was now an echo in the valley. Done.
Garth stood by the burning fire, considering Wallick words: 'Luck nothing. You deserved it.'
At the rear of the cool cave, Sharer cupped her hands into the spring of bubbling water. Only a few caves in the valley had fresh water. Fed from the expansive soil plateau above, water trickled down between rock fissures to the pond. It was sweet and quenching. It was a mark of real wealth to own a cave that had a spring and faced the morning sun. Garth's cave had both. Sunlight entered his cave at daybreak so it was the warmest in winter. He also was first to see the morning grazing animals, first to hunt the best food. Beandra left the cave; her mind was on the big bird.
Beandra watched as the bird's beak prodded at the water in Sharer's palms. His yellow tongue folded out like a lizard, raking the water in briskly.
Garth, the bird is really thirsty!
yelled Beandra.
Then get a shell.
Beandra dashed inside the cave to a pile of different sized shells. There were many shapes: tuba type, cone-like ones, mussel type, big flat ones, small round ones. Shells were a means to serve drink, food and carry fire when required. They were essential tools of everyday living. Shells were regularly traded: two smaller shells bought a bigger shell and three shells bought an even larger one. Shells bought meat and hides. A home with many shells was a well-to-do home, affluent and powerful.
Beandra filled a large shell with water and returned to Sharer and the big bird. Together they lifted the shell up high and tilted it so that the water poured slowly down into the bird's beak.
Meanwhile, Garth had placed two small dead bush ducks in the hot coals of the fire. The feathers had burnt away and their flesh was beginning to roast. The cave began to fill with the inviting aroma of barbecued dinner.
Beandra asked Garth, Can I give our bird friend a mound of maize seed now?
Sure. He deserves it.
Later Garth and the girls sat on the cave floor by the warming fire and devoured the flame-grilled duck.
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