Part 5 (1/2)
”Can't you see it? Just beside the Light-Stealer, very faint...”
For the first time I realized that there was a second point of light close to the red star that Kraal called the Light-Stealer. A dim pinpoint barely on the edge of visibility.
”What do those names mean?” I asked.
He gave me a surprised look. ”You don't know about the Light-Stealer and his Punisher?”
”I come from far away,” I said. ”Much farther than Noch and his band.”
Kraal's expression turned thoughtful. He explained the legend of the Light-Stealer. The G.o.ds-which include the Sun-G.o.d, mightiest of them all-had no care for human beings. They saw humans struggling to exist, weaker than the wolves and bears, cold and hungry always, and turned their backs to us. The Light-Stealer, a lesser G.o.d, took pity on humankind and decided to give us the gift of fire.
My breath caught in my throat. The Prometheus legend. It was I who gave the earliest humans the gift of fire, deep in the eternal cold and snow of the Ice Age. Kraal told the story strangely, but his tale caught the cruel indifference of the so-called G.o.ds almost perfectly.
The Light-Stealer knew that the only way to bring fire to the human race was to steal it from the Sun. So every year the dull red star robs the Sun of some of its light. Instead of remaining in the night sky, as all the other stars do, it gradually encroaches on the daytime domain of the Sun, getting closer and closer each day. Finally it reaches the Sun and steals some of its fire. Then it runs away to return to the night, where it gives light to men in the dark hours, light that is brighter than the moon's.
The legend of Prometheus thrown against the background of the stars. What Kraal was telling me could make sense only if the Sun were accompanied by another star, a dim brownish red dwarf that orbited far out in the deeper distances of the solar system. Yet the Sun was a single star, accompanied by a retinue of planets, not by a companion star. Through all of my journeys across the s.p.a.cetime continuum the Sun had always been a solitary star.
Until now.
”And what of the Punisher?” I heard myself ask.
”The Sun and the other G.o.ds become angry when the Stealer robs fire from the Sun,” Kraal went on. ”The Punisher tears at the Light-Giver, rips into its guts again and again, all year long, forever.”
The companion star has a planet of its own orbiting around it, I translated mentally. From the Earth they can see it bobbing back and forth, disappearing behind the star and reappearing on its other side. A Punisher ripping into the Light-Stealer's innards, like the vulture that eats out Prometheus' liver once the G.o.ds have chained him to the rock.
”That is how fire was given to us, Orion,” said Kraal. ”It happened a long time ago, long before my grandfather's grandfather hunted around this lake. The stars show us what happened, to remind us of our debt to the G.o.ds.”
”But from what you say,” I replied, ”the G.o.ds are not friendly to us.”
”All the more reason to respect and fear them, Orion.” With that he walked away from me, back toward the camp, with the air of a man who had made an unarguable point.
By now the Sun was fully risen over the lake's farther sh.o.r.e and the men were up, stretching and muttering, relieving themselves against a couple of trees. They shared the food they had remaining, Kraal's men and my own, and washed it down with water from the lake, which Chron and one-armed Pirk brought up to our makes.h.i.+ft camp in animal bladders.
”Now for our fight,” said Kraal, picking his long spear up from the ground. His men arrayed themselves behind him, each of them gripping spears, while my band came together behind me. The dogs lay sleepily on their bellies, tongues lolling. But their eyes took in every move.
”You are twelve, we are only nine,” I said.
He shrugged. ”You should have brought more men.”
”We don't have any more.”
Kraal made a gesture with his free hand that said, That's your problem, not mine. That's your problem, not mine.
”Instead of all of us fighting,” I suggested, ”why not an individual combat: one against one.”
Kraal's brow furrowed. ”What good would that do?”
”If your side wins, my men will go back to their home and never come here again.”
”And if my side loses?”
”We can both hunt in this area, in peace. There's plenty of game for us both.”
”No, Orion. It will be better to kill you all and be finished with it. Then we can take your women, too. And any other tribes who come by here will know that this is our our territory, and they must not hunt here.” territory, and they must not hunt here.”
”How will they know that?”
He seemed genuinely surprised by such a stupid question. ”Why, we will mount your heads on poles, of course.”
”Suppose,” I countered, ”we kill all of you? What then?”
”Nine of you? Two of them lads and one of the men with a bad arm?” Kraal laughed.
”One of us has killed a dragon,” I said, making my voice hard.
”So you claim.”
”He did! He did!” my men shouted.
I silenced them with a wave of my hand, not wanting a fight to break out over my claims of prowess. An idea was forming itself in my brain. I asked Chron to bring me my bow and arrows.
”Do you know what this is?” I held them up before Kraal.
”Certainly. Not much good against a spear, though. The bow is a weapon of ambush, not face-to-face fighting.”
Handing the bow and arrows to him, I said, ”Before we start the fighting, why don't you shoot me with this.”
Kraal looked surprised, then suspicious. ”What do you mean?”
Walking toward a stately old elm, I explained, ”Fire an arrow at me. I'll stand here.”
”I don't understand.”
”You don't believe I killed a dragon. Well, there are no dragons about this morning for me to show you how I did it, so I'll have to give you a different kind of proof. Shoot me!”
Puzzled, wary, Kraal nocked an arrow and pulled the bowstring back. My men edged away from me; Kraal's seemed to lean in closer, eager to see the show. I noticed that Kraal pulled the string only back to his chest instead of his cheek.
I willed my body to go into hyperdrive, and saw the world around me slow down. The pupils of Kraal's eyes contracted slightly as he aimed. A bird flapped languidly from one bough to another, its red-feathered wings beating the air with dreamlike strokes.
Standing ten paces before me, Kraal let the arrow fly. I saw it wobbling toward me; it was a crude piece of work. I easily reached out with one hand and knocked it aside.
The men gasped.
”Now,” I said, ”watch this.”
Striding up to one of Kraal's men, I instructed him to hold his spear in both hands, level with the ground. He looked at his leader first, and when Kraal nodded, he reluctantly did as I asked. Swinging my arm overhand and yelling ferociously, I snapped the rough spear in two with the edge of my hand.