Kull: Exile of Atlantis (40 page)

For he would not share his country

With a band of black ape-men.

The Tale of Am-ra

When the days are short and the nights are long in the country of the people of the caves, and the snow covers hill and valley and one may cross the River of Pleasant Water on the ice, then the people of the caves gather about the fire of old Gaur, to listen to his legends and folk-lore and his tales of his youth. Wise and shrewd was old Gaur. Cunning in hunting-craft. His cave was hung with hides of elk and bear and tiger and lion, cunningly and skillfully tanned and dressed. On the walls there hung and against the walls there leaned, antlers of elk and moose, horns of buffalo and musk-ox and tusks of rhinoceros and mammoth and walrus, the ivory beautifully polished, much of it of it carved, depicting love and war and the chase, for Gaur was skilled in the mystery of picture making and cunning with the tools of the art. Skilled in war also, was Gaur. The walls of his cave were hung with weapons, skillfully wrought, trophies of the wars of Gaurs youth when he went forth to fight the black men and the tribes of the sea and the hairy ape-men and the Sons of the Eagle. Skilled in many things was Gaur.

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A land of wild, fantastic beauty; of mighty trees and great rivers, of tangled, breathless jungle and boundless, unlimited prairies, of towering, awesome crags, and dank, gloomy, fever-ridden swamps, of reeking, far stretching savannas, and of great lakes. A land of pleasant summer and cruel, merciless winter. A land of beauty and terror. A land of wild beasts and wilder men. Mighty beasts roamed the mountains and the plains and jungle. Through the nights walked Na-go-sa-na, the tawny one, the Fear That Walks By Night, and Sa-go-na, the cruel sabertooth. Often upon the plains and among the brakes of the savannas, might be seen the gigantic form of Ga-so-go, the mammoth, the Hill That Walks. Among the savannas and in the jungle, Gola-ha, the Beast That Carries A Horn On His Nose, fought for supremacy with the A-go-nun, the Red One, the cone horned monster of another age. In the swamps and the deep jungle lived the Crawling Ones. The bearers of the Burning Death. And in the swamps and amid the deepest savanna reigned the E-ha-g-don, the frightful monsters of an earlier epoch–the dinosaurs. Such was the land in which dwelt my people, the Ta-an.

Through the plain and savanna and into an estuary, flowed a great river, The River of Blue Water. On one side of the river, the south side, rose moderately high cliffs. These cliffs rose abruptly, some yards back from the steep bank of the river. The top was rounded, sloping back steeply into the plain and ending in a drop of some score feet. In the cliff fronting the river were three tiers of caves, one tier above the other; and in these caves lived the tribe. The Ta-an numbered some one hundred and fifty strong. Most of these, of course, were women and children but there were at least seventy-five A-ga-nai, fighting men.

Ai, what a life that was! A life of battle; a life through which Fear stalked rampant from birth to death. For man was weak and helpless in those days, and Fear walked always by his side, and at night It lay down by his side. Even in sleep it did not depart from him but accompanied him in his troubled rest and haunted his dreams, so that in the midst of night he would start suddenly awake gripping his rude weapons and the cold sweat starting from his brow. For even as man’s waking thoughts were of Fear, so his dreams were of Fear. Through life man went in those early days, peering, creeping, cautiously, ready, always, to flee or fight like a cornered rat. His days, he passed in fear and watchfulness and his nights in troubled sleep and frightful dreams–dreams through which Fear stalked grisly and horrible. Thus through life he went and at last in a moment of carelessness–a sudden movement in the long grass or the bushes or the branches overhead, a great body launching through the air, an instant of awful agony and ghastly fear, and then the sound of bones crunching between mighty jaws. Or else, the rush of a heavy form across the ground, the quick lightning-like striking of a snake, the crash of a falling tree, the snapping that proceeds the parting of a rotten limb, these things heralded Death. Violent, sudden death.

In summer, pleasant was the land of the Ta-ans, except for the Fear. The much fruit was on the trees and the wild blueberries flourished at the edge of the swamps. The streams and rivers abounded in So-ga, the fish and the tribesmen caught them with slivers of bone tied to the end of a long fiber or a strip of rawhide. Ba-a the deer and O-ha the Swift One, blackened the plain with their numbers and among the forest wandered in great droves, Go-un the Grunter. The killers were gorged on the flesh of the grass-eaters and their attacks on man were less frequent. Man, too, feasted on the hoofed ones for so numerous were they, and so fat on the long, rank grass and the other rich vegetation, that they were careless of danger and unwary and the hunting was good. The tribesmen slew and slew, and what they did not eat on the spot, they cut in long strips to dry before the cave fires for winter. The trees and the undergrowth of jungle and forest were green and pleasant. The hills and crags were covered with a green covering of vegetation which softened their harsh and rugged outline.

[…]

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[…]
determined.

So I set out up the hill-trail as if on a hunt and was pleased to note that she was following me. When I came to a rather wild, craggy place among the hill, I walked around a great boulder and then turned back on the trail and waited, with a certain glee. Ah-lala came face to face with me before she knew I was about. I caught her by the wrists and dragged her along the trail for some distance before she came to herself, so astonished she was, and then she fought like a little demon.

Smiling, I over-powered her with ease, and presently she ceased to struggle and stood, glaring at me furiously.

“Beast!” she quoth, “Let me go!”

“Zukor Na, little wildcat.” I taunted her.

She stamped her little foot passionately, “Dont you call me that!” she blazed.

I laughed and glanced about, not finding what I wanted.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, somewhat frightently.

“What I should have done long ago.” I answered, “Spank you.”

“You shant!” she screamed, “You shant spank me.”

“Will you promise to leave me alone?” I asked her, hoping she would.

“No!” she answered sulkily, like an indulged child.

So in spite of her struggles and protests I tucked her under one arm and strode up the trail, despising myself but still determined.

When I came to where some bushes grew beside the trail, I stopped and set the girl down. Holding both her wrists with one hand, I broke off several long twigs. I felt that what I was doing was degrading and debasing myself and that I would never have the same self-respect, but I felt forced to go on with what I had started. Woman-whipping was not a custom among the tribes of the Magnard although it was common enough. It had always been repellant to me but none of the tribe thought it improper to spank a child who deserved it, no matter what age or sex. I considered Ah-lala as no more than a naughty child and certainly I had had enough provocation.

She watched me without struggling until I bunched the twigs in my hand and drew her in front of me. Then she fought with a desperation that startled me. When I had quelled her rebellion she panted, “You beast! To whip a woman!”

I laughed, “Who mentioned whipping a woman? Anyone may switch a naughty child.”

The rage that blazed from her small face was so furious and concentrated that I involuntarily drew back a step. Her eyes fairly blazed, her pretty lip drew back from her small teeth in a surprizing manner. For a moment she glared at me in fury and then turned away as much as my grip on her arm would allow, refusing to looking. I was becoming more bewildered every instant at the surprizing girl. I drew her toward me and was further suprized to see her eyeing me with a reproachful gaze. I found it difficult to meet that level gaze, although I knew and she knew that she deserved a whipping if a girl every did. But her clear eyes made me feel as if I were about to murder an innocent baby.

I expected her to begin to fight again, but she had changed her whole manner.

To my wonder she assumed a humble air that discomforted me more than any of her other moods.

“Please dont whip me, Am-ra.” she begged, timidly trying to free her hands and then desisting, “Dont, please. Dont shame me so, I beg you.”

I wavered.

“Am-ra,” she said, wearily, it seemed, “if you whip me I’ll hate you always.”

Of all the ridiculous pleas! Yet somehow it shamed me more than anything else she said.

Then, angry with myself and angry at her for confusing me so, I jerked her around with no very gentle hand and raised the switches. All such furore over the switching of a young girl scarcely out of the spanking age. Remember, before you condemn me, that in that age all was primitive and direct. We were lusty animals and what would horrify people of a civilized age were but commonplaces in that age.

Yet as I looked upon the girl I held so helpless in my grasp, I knew I could not bring the switch across that slim, shrinking form. With a snarl of disgust at my own weakness, I threw the switches away.

“I wont whip you, child.” I said kindly, and Ah-lala opened her eyes which she had tightly closed when I started to whip her.

She tugged to free herself, “Then please let me go.” she begged.

“Wait.” said I, “First tell me why you have tormented me so much. Surely I never offended you.”

“You did, too.” she answered, indinantly.

“Then how, in the name of the White Wolf?” I asked bewilderedly.

She hung her head and would not answer for awhile, then she suddenly burst in speech so rapid and heated that I had some difficulty in grasping what she was saying.

“You never paid any attention to me.” she stormed, “You went on your way and didnt seem to know I was in the world! You took up all your time with

[…]

The Shadow Kingdom
(Draft)

The flare of the trumpets grew louder, like a deep golden thunder, and silver hoofs chimed rhythmically. The throng shouted, women flung roses from the roofs, as the first of the mighty array swung into view in the broad white street that curved round the golden spired Tower of Splendor.

First came the trumpeters, slim youths, clad in scarlet, riding with a flourish of long, golden trumpets; next the bowmen, tall men from the mountains; behind them the heavily armed footmen, their broad shields clashing in unison, their long spears swaying in perfect rythm to their stride. Behind them came the mightiest soldiery in all the world, The Red Slayers, horsemen, splendidly mounted, armed in red from helmet to spur. Proudly they sat their steeds, looking niether to right nor to left, but exultantly aware of the shouting for all that. They seemed like bronze statues, men of metal, and there was not a waver in the forest of spears that reared above them.

Behind these, came the motley ranks of the mercenaries, fierce, wild looking warriors, men of Mu and of Kaa-u and of the hills of the east and the isles of the west. They bore spears and swords and a compact group that marched somewhat apart from the rest, were the bowmen of Lemuria. Then came the nations light foot soldiery, and more trumpeters brought up the rear.

A brave sight, and a sight which aroused a fierce thrill in the soul of Kull, king of Valusia. Not on the Topaz Throne at the front of the regal Tower of Splendor sat Kull, but in the saddle, mounted on a great stallion, a true warrior king. His mighty arm swung up in reply to the salutes as the hosts passed. His fierce eyes passed the gorgeous trumpeters with a casual glance, rested longer on the following soldiery; they lit with a ferocious light as the Red Slayers halted in front of him with a clang of arms and a rearing of steeds, and tendered him the Crown Salute; they narrowed slightly as the mercenaries strode by.

They saluted no one, the mercenaries. They walked with shoulders flung back eyeing Kull boldly and straightly, albeit with a certain appreciation due a fighting man, fierce eyes, unblinking, staring from beneath shaggy manes.

And Kull returned a like stare. He granted much to brave men, and there were no braver in all the world, not even among the wild tribesmen who now disowned him. But Kull was too much the savage to have any great love for those. There were too many feuds. Many were age old enemies of Kull’s tribe and though the name of Kull was now a word accursed among the mountains and valleys of his people, and though Kull had put them from his mind, et still the old hates, the ancient passions lingered. For Kull was no Valusian but an Atlantean.

The armies swung out of sight down the broad white street that led to the barracks and Kull reined his stallion about and started toward the palace at an easy gait, discussing the review with the commanders that rode with him, using not many words, but saying much.

“That is a mighty army.” said he, “But an army is like a sword and must not be allowed to rust.”

So down the street they rode, and Kull gave no heed to any of the whispers that reached his hearing from the throngs that still swarmed the streets.