Breed to Come (3 page)

Only such perils might not haunt the lairs. AndGammage, very old, saw Demons stalking him in theshadows of their own stronghold. Yes, that could bethe answer. But you could not argue with one whosaw those gone before. And Gammage, moved by suchshadows and master of the lair wonders—why, hecould even be a menace to his own People if he continued in his folly of spreading his discoveries amongstrangers! And even—as Fal-Kan had said—amonghis enemies! Someone ought to go to Gammage intruth, not just in the sayings of young warriors, anddiscover what he was doing now.

For the good of thePeople that should be done.

Going to Gammage—it had been four trials agothat the last one who said that had gone, never to return. Foskatt of Fava's cave. He had been bested inthe contests. Furtig tried to recall Foskatt and then 24wished he had not. For the image in his mind wastoo like the one he had seen of himself the last time hehad looked down at the other-Furtig in the smoothwater of the Pool of Trees.

Foskatt, too, had been thin, narrow of shoulder andloin. And his fur was the same deep gray, almost bluein the sun. He also had been fond of roving on his ownand had once shown Furtig something he had foundin a small lair, one of those apart from the great onesin which Gammage lived. It was a strange thing, likea square box of metal, and in its top was a square ofother material, very smooth. When Foskatt pressed aplace on the side of the box, there appeared a pictureon the top square. It was Demon-made, and when thecave Elders saw it they took it from Foskatt andsmashed it with rocks.

Foskatt had been very quiet after that. And whenhe was beaten at the Trials, he had gone to Gammage.What had he found in the lairs?

Furtig fingered his fighting claws and thoughtabout what might happen tomorrow; he must forget Gammage and consider rather his own future. Thecloser it came to the hour when he would have tofront an opponent chosen by lot, the less good thatseemed. Though he knew that once a challenge wasuttered, he would be caught up in a frenzy of battlehe would neither want to avoid nor be able to control.The very life force of their kind would spur him on.

Since it was not the custom that one tribe shouldstare at another in their home place, those of the caves went to their own shelters as the van of the visitors settled in the campgrounds, so Furtig was not alone for long. In the cave the life of his family bubbled about him.

"There is no proper way of influencing the drawingof lots." Fal-Kari and two of the lesser Elders drewFurtig aside to give him council, though he would farrather have them leave him alone. Or would he?

Which was worse, foreseeing in his own mind whatmight happen to him, or listening to advice delivered with an undercurrent of dubious belief in their champion? Fal-Kan sounded now as if he did wish there was some way to control the selection of warrioragainst warrior.

"True." Fujor licked absentmindedly at his hand,his tongue rasping ever against the place where onefinger was missing, as if by his gesture he could regrow the lacking member. Fujor was hairier of bodythan most of the cave and ran four-footed more often.

"There are three without claws," Fal-Kan continued. "Your weapons, warrior, will be an added inducement for any struggle with those. Some will fightsooner for good weapons than a mate."

Furtig wished he could pull those jingling treasuresfrom his belt and hide them. But custom forbade it.There was no escape from laying them on the challenge rock when he was summoned.

However, hedared speak up out of a kind of desperation. After all,Fal-Kan and Fujor had been successful in their ownTrials. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could give himsome manner of advice.

"Do you think, Elders, that I am already defeated,that you see the claws of my father on the hands of astranger? For if this is so, can you not then tell mehow the worst is to be avoided?"Fal-Kan eyed him critically. "It is the will of theAncestors who will win. But you are quick, Furtig.You know all we can teach you. We have done ourbest. See that you do also."

Furtig was silenced. There was no more to be gotten out of these two. They were both Elders (thoughFujor only by right of years, not by any wisdom). FeSan, the other Elder, was noted for never raising hisvoice in Fal-Kan's presence.

The other males were younglings, too young to domore than tread the teaching trails by day.

Latelythey had had more females than males within thecave of Gammage. And after every Trial the femaleswent to the victors' caves. The family was dwindling.Perhaps it would be with them as it had been with thecave of Rantia on the lower level, a clan finally reduced only to Elders and to Choosers too old to givebirth. Yet Gammage had founded a proud line!

Now Furtig ate sparingly of the meat in his bowl,scrambled onto his own ledge, and curled up to sleep.He wished that the morning was already passed andthe outcome of his uncertain championship decided.Through the dark he could hear the purring whispersof two of his sisters. Tomorrow would be a day ofpride for them, with no doubts to cloud their excitement. They would be among the Choosers, not amongthe fighters.

Furtig tried to picture Fas-Tan, but his thoughtskept sliding in more dismal directions—he pictured abelt with no claws and an inglorious return to hiscave. It was then he made up his mind. If he was aloser he was not going to take the solitary trail hisbrother had followed, or remain here to be an object of scom for the Elders. No, he was going to Gammage!

The morning cry woke Furtig from dreams he couldnot remember. Thus they had not been sent by anyAncestor to warn him. And Furtig, as he droppedfrom his sleep place, felt no greater strength. The thought of the coming day weighed heavily on him, somuch so that he had to struggle to preserve the proper impassive manner of a warrior on this day ofdays.

When they gathered on the pounded-earth flooringof the Trial place, Furtig had to join the line of Challengers as confidently as if he were San-Lo himself,there at the other end. San-Lo was easily counted thebest the caves could produce. His yellow fur with itsdarker brown striping was sleek and well ordered,seeming to catch the morning sun in a blaze, foretelling the glory which would soon rest on him in thesight of both caves and westerners.

Furtig had no illusions; of that company he wascertainly the least likely to succeed. There were ten ofthem this year, with a range of different fur coloringmaking a bright pattern. Two brothers of the graywith-black-striping, which was the commonest; anight black, a contrast to his two black-and-white brothers, a formidable trio who liked to hunt togetherand shared more companionship than others of their age group. Then came a stocky white with only earsand tail of gray; two more yellows, younger and lighter editions of San-Lo; a brown-striped with awhite belly; and last Furtig in solid gray.

Their opponents were more uniform, having originally come from only two families, according to tradition. They were either all black, or black-and-white invarious markings.

The Choosers were lying at languid ease on top ofthe sun-warmed rocks to the east of the combat field,while the Elders and the mated gathered north andsouth. Now and then one of the Choosers would wantonly utter a small yowling call, promising delights forhim she would accept. But Fas-Tan did not have toattract attention so. Her superb beauty already hadregistered with them all.

Ha-Ja, who was the Eldest of the Westerners, andKuygen, who held the same status at the caves, advanced to the center of the field. At a gesture eachbrought forward the first warrior in each line, holdinga bowl well above the eye level of the contestants.Those raised their hands and drew, keeping theirchoices as concealed as they could. So it went, two bytwo, until Furtig had his chance. He groped in thebowl, felt the two remaining slips of wood, and pulledbut one.

Once they had all drawn, each contestant smootheda small patch of earth and dropped his choose-stickon it. Ha-Ja called first:

"One notch end."

San-Lo showed his fangs and gave a low snarl of assent.

Kuygen gestured to the westerners. The duplicatelay at the feet of a powerfully built all-black, whosetail was already twitching. At least, by the look ofhim, San-Lo would be fairly matched.

Both advanced to the center rock, tossed theirhunting claws with a jangle of metal on the stone.

Atleast in this battle there would be no forfeiture of weapons.

Together Ha-Ja and Kuygen made signal. The warriors went to full ground-crouch, their tails alash, earsflattened, eyes slitted. And from their throats camethe howls of battle. They circled in one of the customary challenge moves, and then the black sprang.

Their entanglement was a flurry of such fast tearing, rolling, and kicking with the powerful hind feetthat the spectators, accustomed as they were to suchencounters, were hardly able to follow the action before the warriors parted. Tufts of fur blew from thebattle site, but they were yowling again, neither seeming the least affected by the fury of their first meeting.

Again that attack, vicious, sudden, complete. Theyrolled over and over on the ground and fur flew. Theemotion spread to the spectators. Waiting warriorsyowled, voicing their own battle cries, hardly able torestrain themselves from leaping at each other. Eventhe Elders added to the general din. Only the Choosers held to their studied languor, though their eyeswere very wide, and here and there a pink tongue tip showed.

San-Lo won. When they separated the second time, the black had lowered tail and backed from the field,raw and bleeding tears on his belly. The champion ofthe caves strutted to the rock to pick up his claws,dangling them in an arrogant jingle before he returned to his place in line.

The fights continued. Two of the cave warriors surrendered to the visitors. Then there were three straight wins for Furtig's clan. But his apprehensionwas growing. The matching of pieces was leaving another warrior on the western side as formidable in sizeas the one who had stood up to San-Lo. If the favor ofthe Ancestors was against Furtig—

And it was. His neighbor on the cave line bested—but just—his opponent. Furtig must face the powerful warrior. Also—no claws swung from the other'sbelt, so he had to face the thought of not only one defeat but two.

Dreading what was to come, yet knowing it must befaced, he went dutifully to the rock, tossed his clawsthere with a reluctance he hoped was not betrayed.

At least he could make the black know that he hadbeen in a fight! And he yowled his chall'enge withwhat strength he could muster. When they tangled,he fought with all the skill he had. Only that was notenough. Sheer determination not to give in sent himtwice more to tangle with those punishing clawed legs, fangs which had left wounds. It was a nightmareto which there was no end. He could only keep fighting—until—

Until there was blackness and he was lost in it,though there were unpleasant dreams. And when heawoke in the cave, lying on his own pallet, he firstthought it was all a dream. Then he raised his swimming head and looked upon the matted paste of healing leaves plastered on him.

Almost hoping, he fought pain to bring his hand tohis belt. But there were no claws there. He had plainly lost, and those weapons which had been Gammage's good gift to Furtig's father were gone with all his hopes of ever being more in the caves than Fu-Torof the missing hand.

They had patched him up with the best of theirtending. But there was no one in the cave. He cravedwater with a thirst which was now another pain, andfinally forced his aching and bruised body to obeyhim, crawling through the light of the night lamp tothe stone trough. There was little left, and when he tried to dip out a bowlful his hand shook so that hegot hardly any. But even as he had fought on when there was no hope of victory, he persisted.

Furtig did not return to his ledge. Now that he wasnot so single-minded in his quest for water, he couldplainly hear the sounds of the feasting below. TheChoosing must be over, the winners with the mateswho had selected them. Fas-Tan—he put her out ofhis mind. After all she had been only a dream hecould never hope to possess.

His clawless belt was the greater loss, and he couldhave wailed over that like a youngling who hadstrayed too far from his mother and feared whatmight crouch in the dark. That he could stay on in the caves now was impossible.

But to go to Gammage armed and confident wasone matter. To slink off as a reject from the Trials,with his weapon lost as spoils of victory— In somethings his pride was deep. Yet—to Gammage he mustgo. It was his right, as it had been his brother's, tochoose to leave. And one could always claim a secondTrial—though at present that was the last thing he wanted.

However, Furtig had no intention of leaving beforehe proclaimed his choice. Pride held him to that.Some losers might be poor spirited enough to slinkaway in the dark of night, giving no formal word totheir caves—but not Furtig! He crawled back to theledge, knowing that he must also wait until he was fitfor the trail again.

So he lay, aching and smarting, listening to thefeasting, wondering if his sisters had chosen to mate with victorious westerners or within the caves. And sohe fell asleep.

It was midday when he awoke, for the sun wasshining in a bright bar well into the cave mouth.

Theledges of the elders were empty, but he heard noisesin the parts within. As he turned his head one of theyounger females almost touched noses with him, shehad been sitting so close, her eyes regarding him unwinkingly.

"Furtig." She spoke his name softly, putting out ahand to touch a patch of the now dried leaf plaster onhis shoulder. "Does it hurt you much?"

He was aware of aches, but none so intense asearlier.

"Not too much, clan sister.""Mighty fighter, in the cave of Grimmage—"

He wrinkled a lip in a wry grimace. "Not so, youngling. Did I not lose to the warrior of the westerners?San-Lo is a mighty fighter, not Furtig."

She shook her head. Like him she was furred withrich gray, but hers was longer, silkier. He had thoughtFas-Tan was rare because of her coloring, but thisyoungling, Eu-La, would also be a beauty when herchoose-time came.

"San-Lo was chosen by Fas-Tan." She told himwhat he could easily have guessed. "Sister Naya hastaken Mur of Folock's cave. But Sister Yngar—she took the black warrior of the westerners—"