SPIRIT WALKER

Chapter 16: The Challenge (part 2 of 2)

The Mastodon Men were bloated. They had eaten well. One old cow got up, picked up a piece of bloody shale, and studied the mastodon. Tull did not see where the rock had come from, so he watched a moment and realized that each of the beasts had a sharp rock or pointed stick nearby, and each weapon was smeared with the Snail Follower's blood. Often, the Mastodon Men grasped these weapons even in their sleep. 

An infant mewed in its mother's arms, and she gently cupped it in a giant hand. Suddenly, from beneath the shade of an alder, a huge bull stepped out—a large man with testicles the size of cantaloupes. The Mastodon Man had deep crevices running from his nose to his mouth, so that his face seemed stuck in a perpetual scowl. His nostrils were not as widely set as those of his companions, and his nose was short and pugged.

This one! This was the Mastodon Man that had eaten Little Chaa. Tull recognized him by the silvered hair on his chest. The Mastodon Man was probably the leader of the band.

The beast walked forward on his knuckles slowly, scowled at the younger bull, and raised his hands. The young bull barked and spun away into the brush, where he pulled the limb from an alder and then began swatting the ground.

The old bull knuckle-walked to the young female. She stroked the long hair of his mane, but the old bull just laid a hand on her belly, as if to say, "Wait until I wake up a bit."

Four Mastodon Men had wakened now. With evening coming, the rest of them would rise soon. With such a large kill to eat, they would not need to hunt.

Tull cocked his spear arm, raised his shield, and stood up. The young bull barked a warning, and all of the Mastodon Men swirled into motion. The young female rolled off the log, put her knuckles to the dirt, and scrambled away, instinctively fleeing.

But the big bull charged forward over the log, then raised himself to full height waving his arms in the ceremonial fighting stance. All the females disappeared into the brush, while a dozen bulls loped forward and stood behind their leader.

Some of the older bulls carried great slabs of shale in their fists and raised the bloody stones in threat. The younger ones barked and shrieked and weaved from side to side as they beat their stones against the ground.

Tull knew that if the big bull charged, all of the beasts charge. Most of the monsters stood over eight feet, and he could not outrun them.

His stomach tightened and he struggled for breath. Cautious and deliberate, he walked forward. With each step he took, the bulls shuffled closer, creating a wall behind their leader. When he walked within thirty feet of the great bull, it stretched to its full height of ten feet, and raised it arms overhead.

A smothering blanket of kwea fell.

Tull was a child again, standing before his father while old Jenks held the rattling shackles he would place on Tull's legs.

A black fog of terror and despair seemed to swell around the leader. Even the sun seemed to darken, as if a giant hand held it in shadow. Tull was smothered by a perverse and powerful kwea.

Tull expelled the air from his lungs in a single wrenching gasp, and he held his eyes steady on the beast and whimpered once before he lowered them. Tull stood full in the shadow of the Mastodon Man's and felt his knees begin to buckle.

The kwea emanated in waves through his brain, crashing against him, and he felt that if he stood much longer in the beast's presence, his sanity would erode like sand under his feet when waves pound the seashore.

As he stood watching the Mastodon Man's shadow on the ground, the kwea seemed to ease, as if the waves were not driven by such a frenzied wind.

An old Pwi song rang through his head:

Dandelions at storm; dandelions at storm.

When the wind blows fierce, and wild, and warm, the white down flies.

Dandelions at storm.

The rhythm of the song coincided with waves of fear battering him.

Tull raised his spear, raised his shield overhead, and assumed the symbolic fighting stance. Then he dared to stare into the Mastodon Man's eye.

The powerful kwea of terror rose up like a great black wall. The god Adjonai, the keeper of terror, stood at the monster's back, and the sky became black. The Pwi said that Adjonai ruled Craal, but Tull felt the dark god's presence, full and strong.

Tull laughed like a madman who no longer cared whether he lived or died.

The Mastodon Man watched Tull and swayed side to side, grunting his rage and bewilderment at this tiny beast that seemed determined to fight for the right to lead the band. He lowered his hands and put knuckles to the ground, as if Tull were a child from the tribe who challenged only from ignorance.

The Mastodon Man swayed again, then shrieked, a howl of warning so magnificent in volume that the leaves of the vine maples seemed to tremble.

Run, a voice whispered in the back of Tull's head, run for the daylight. But Tull stood and laughed at the Mastodon Man, for he saw that its eyes were dull, like the eyes of Hardy Goodman, the eyes of a moron.

The leader rushed at Tull and lightly thumped him on the chest. The blow knocked Tull to the ground. Tull kept his eyes on the huge beast and let the dark kwea run through him.

Tull shouted curses at the god Adjonai, and he kept at it for a full five minutes, until the god seemed to turn his face away.

The Mastodon Man still stood over Tull, pacing back and forth, unsure what to do with this minuscule foe.

The sky around the Mastodon Man suddenly brightened, and the beast shrank and became nothing but an animal, a bewildered creature that watched Tull and did not feed on him only because its hunger was sated.

Tull felt his fear dwindle and subside, as if the crashing waves of fear were an ocean that miraculously calmed. The storm now raged only in memory.

The great bull leaned forward on his knuckles and sniffed at Tull's face like a curious dog.

Tull still clutched his spear. He could have stabbed the beast, even mortally wounded it. Part of him wanted to. Yet looking into the eyes of this dumb animal, he knew it didn't matter anymore. He'd spoken the truth to Phylomon: he had come only to look.

Tull growled at the Mastodon Man, and it leapt backward. The others shrieked and grunted, and one fellow threw a bloody stone. Tull ducked beneath it, knelt to a crouch and raised his spear and shield overhead. The Mastodon Men grew wary and looked around, then crept back a pace.

Tull slowly retreated. To turn his back or run would invite an attack, so Tull eased his arms lower and stepped backward a few paces, until he reached Ayuvah.

He would have continued on, but Ayuvah stopped him, pointed to the old bull and asked, "Is he the one who killed Little Chaa?"

Tull nodded.

Ayuvah raised his shield and spear overhead, in the symbolic fighting stance, and advanced on the Mastodon Men. The old bull became more confused than ever; he raised his own hands and roared.

When he was a dozen feet off, Ayuvah lunged in with his spear and slashed the beast across the belly. The Mastodon Man shrieked and lashed out with a bloody stone.

Ayuvah ducked beneath the blow; he plunged his spear into the monster's neck.

The Mastodon Man leapt, seeking to throw its weight atop Ayuvah, but Ayuvah dodged to the left and pulled his kutow.

The Mastodon Man landed on its belly, and Ayuvah swung his kutow into the monster's head, splitting the skull wide open.

The old bull stopped moving. Only the back of its legs twitched.

The whole tribe shrieked at Ayuvah, stomping the ground and tearing the trees and grass from the forest floor. Ayuvah raised his hands over his head, challenging the rest of the Mastodon Men. None came forward.

Ayuvah backed off slowly, then turned to Tull and they strode through the sunlight, over the thick wild grapes that cracked and tore like paper.