Pale Warrior (Caveman Chronicles)

The Index -|-

Days and days went by, and Kpleeb became all too familiar with the hut. He paced and thought and he made small marks on one of the poles that held the hut roof in its upright position. This was a trick he had learned in the caves, but this time it was different. The hut was too hot during the day and too cold at night. He could not see the sun, and he had to use a hole in the corner for defecation. All this because Bre and Chief Kilow were convinced that Molk would kill Kpleeb if he was seen outside.

He tried to reason with Bre every day as she brought him food, but she would not take him outside or make any real decision without the Chief.

“Do you serve Chief Kilow?” Kpleeb asked her. He was not sure about the relationship between most of the members of the tribe.

“Kilow, Chief,” said Bre as she handed him a tuber.

“Yes, but…” Kpleeb paused to think as he took a bite. “But, do you work for her? Are you her servant? What is your role in the tribe?”

Bre looked at him for a long moment before answering. “I next chief.”

“Oh-” Kpleeb had not thought about apprenticeship or training. It only brought more questions to mind.

“Is Chief Kilow sick? Why do you need a chief?

“Kilow wise and strong. I must wise and strong. I learn.” Bre handed him another bland tuber. “Wet canyon tribe have chief?”

Kpleeb was sitting up, and his ankles were not bound. He crossed his legs and leaned back slightly. He was well aware of how a string of lies could unravel and the most inopportune moment. From his past, he only knew of the workings of the canyon river tribe, and there he had not been a leader.

What a question! I have to tell the truth about most things. But… Thoka and I left our tribes – were TAKEN from, really – maybe we are our own tribe now?

He thought about the months in the caves with Thoka. He remembered learning from her, being impressed by her focus and intelligence, and enjoying her beauty. In time, she had accepted him.

We are a family, not a tribe. The only tribe I can speak of is the one I grew up in.

Kpleeb was brought back to the present by Bre’s voice.

“What think?” said Bre.

“Urh, well… My tribe had an old chief when I was a cavechild. His name was Ipluu, and he died from the bite of a river snake when I was young. The only thing I remember about his was his long, white hair. He was a strong warrior, but he lived a full life. Fab Elder Shoofit was chosen to become chief when he died.”

Bre raised her hand. “Chief is, caveman?”

“Yes.”

“Urgh Fab Shoofit, why new chief?”

Kpleeb remembered the ceremony well, and so he told Bre the story.

“After the funeral pire and sumptuous dinner of fish baked in fermented yak’s milk and ground chin-weed, the tribe had gathered in a large circle. I was only a cavechild at the time, so I could not stand in front. I saw everything through the elbows of the cavemen and women who encircled the pire.”

“What is pire?” Bre asked.

“Urh, when the chief dies, they place his body on a pile of wood and burn it.”

Bre looked shocked.

Kpleeb continued. “Most of the cavemen held yak-skin tubes of fermented yak’s milk, and some were quite drunk. Everyone knew and liked old Ipluu. He had been chief for a long time. I could not count with numbers that large, but Fab Elder Shoofit would surely know. Chief Ipluu became chief when my Mam was a child. He must have been…” Kpleeb paused to calculate. “He was chief at least twenty years or urh… two-hundred-forty moon cycles. He must have been at least five-hundred moon-cycles old.”

Bre’s eyes squinted at him for a moment. “Young chief. Die young.” She shook her head in apparent disbelief.

Kpleeb continued. “Several cavemen were pushed forward into the center of the circle by others. A couple of those refused and returned to the circle of watchers, but some stayed in the center. Fab Elder Shoofit was only called Shoofit at the time, but he stayed. Each caveman in the center was given a yak-skin of Poodis’ high-test. Poodis was known for making the best fermented yak’s milk in the region, and some of it was strong enough to clean various wounds and burns with.”

“Anyway, the cavemen that would become chief had to be the strongest. They each drank the entire yak-skin, and Fab Elder Shoofit was the last one to fall down.”

“Urgh,” said Bre, “how drink become strength? No battle, or wise test?”

Kpleeb nodded. “Sure, I understand that. Everyone already knew these cavemen well. They were all fine warriors and were wise, at least mostly. The chief of the tribe must sit down with the other tribes and talk. They make war and peace between tribes, and those talks always involve drink. A strong chief must be able to parley for a long time and keep his wits about him. For a chief to pass out during a tribe parley would be nearly unthinkable, and the other chiefs there would certainly take advantage of his state.”

Bre was silent for a few moments while Kpleeb finished his food. “Fab Shoofit chief now. Where? You live how long?”

Kpleeb rolled his eyes. “I am young, only maybe two-hundred-fifty moon-cycles.”

Bre’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. “No!” she said forcefully. She rose to her knees and prodded at Kpleeb’s shoulder as if seeing it for the first time. “You older. Much older.”

Kpleeb shook his head. “No, I’m not. anyway, you already asked me where I came from. I – we came from a long distance.” Kpleeb pointed outside in a random direction since he did not know where the canyon was. “Long way. More important is that she will come here. When that happens, you will be safer if I am treated well. Maybe we can trade with you.”

Bre sat back down and stared at him with a new look in her eyes. After a moment of consideration, she appeared to accept his age, and she held her hands open. “What trade?”

“We have very much to trade. The most important is knowledge.” Kpleeb tapped on his forehead. “You have food and you know this region.”

“You stay in… region?” Bre said as if considering the word, though she did not question its meaning.

“Maybe,” said Kpleeb. He did not want to vacillate about their intentions or provide any reason for Kilow’s tribe to be concerned… but he would not leave unless it was with Thoka. They would decide together. “What other tribes are there nearby, and how far does your tribe’s territory extend?”

Bre smiled. “I not give knowledge for free. You trade.”

Kpleeb grinned at Bre. “Ehem… Ahh, yes. Well…”

Just then there was a loud hubbub from outside followed by a more distant cry. Bre rose to her feet quickly, and ran to the door of the hut. She stopped and pointed at him.

“YOU NO RUN!” she said forcefully before pulling back the hanging reeds and disappearing outside.

Kpleeb got to his feet and peered through the reeds at the door. The door to this hut faced the village center just like they all did. He could see cavepeople of all shapes and sizes running in different directions. Some were cavewomen herding cavechildren into or behind huts, and some were warriors with wooden clubs and spears heading the opposite direction. He stuck his head out to get a better idea of what was happening and saw a group of warriors in pitched battle past the edge of the village.

Molk was there with his cavemen. His tree-trunk arms were swinging in wide arcs, and where his club landed, bones broke. Kpleeb could hear the crushing and cries of pain even at this distance. The village warriors seemed to protect his back and sides from a distance while he worked.

The warriors who were attacking the village appeared to be short and very pale. Their attacks were darting and they wielded long spears of springy wood. Their spears had successfully skewered a number of village cavemen, and there were wounded laying in the brush in various spots. Kpleeb could see no pale cavemen that were down, and wondered how that could be possible given Molk’s devastating melee.

Just then, Kpleeb saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and he turned quickly to his left. A pale leg vanished behind the next hut. He turned and looked for other villagers that might raise an alarm. Seeing none, he sprinted toward the edge of the next hut. When he came around the corner, there was no one there, but he heard a rustling behind the adjacent hut. When he turned that corner, he froze.

Two young cavechildren were cowering on the ground with their arms wrapped around their heads. Low pitched groans and wails emanated from the smallish lumps of cavehumanity. Above them and two steps back stood a pale stranger holding a long spear. The pale warrior’s back was turned toward Kpleeb.

Kpleeb backed up quietly and grabbed a thick tree branch that was resting against the hut. He had seen one of the cavewomen beating woven reed mats with this kind of stick. With the stick in his hand, he tip-toed forward and struck the pale figure with a downward swing. The stick struck squarely on the shoulder and the form dropped. Kpleeb stepped forward and bent over the cavechildren.

“Are you okay?”

They looked up at him with teary eyes and nodded. Then they recoiled and cried out at the same time.

Kpleeb felt a warning and ducked. A spear whizzed by just where his head had been. The spear changed direction as a reaction to his movement and Kpleeb was slapped hard in the ear. He swung his arm and rotated violently. His fist came around and connected with the head of the pale warrior. The warrior grunted and fell again. This time, Kpleeb sank to his knees and began to pummel the strange face with his fists. The warrior fought back for a moment, but soon became unmoving.

Kpleeb was breathing heavily and his ears rang. He sat back and held up his bleeding hands for a moment before remembering the cavechildren who were now hovering hesitantly at the edge of the hut.

“It’s safe now,” said Kpleeb through his heavy breathing. He nudged the warrior with his foot. “He is out cold for now.”

“Kpleeb!” Bre came around the corner and knelt near him. Her finger touched his ear gingerly. “Ear broken!”

Kpleeb nodded. “I’ll be fine. Help me up.”

Bre helped Kpleeb to his feet just as Chief Kilow appeared from the opposite direction.

“Children, go,” said Kilow with a sharp gesture. She looked at the pale warrior and then at Kpleeb. “You go inside hut. Molk almost finish.” She took a few steps toward the hut that had become Kpleeb’s home and turned to gesture. “Come.”

Kpleeb followed Chief Kilow with Bre at his side. “I can walk just fine,” he mumbled. The side of his head stung, and he felt slightly dizzy, but he gritted his teeth and continued walking on his own until they came to the hut. He sat down on the mat.

“Thank you. Can I have some water?”

Bre nodded at him and left.

“What happen?” said Chief Kilow. Her stare demanded an answer.

“I saw a pale warrior running around the hut. I followed him and he was threatening the cavechildren. That’s all.”

Chief Kilow examined him silently for a few moments before nodding. “Good. Thank you.”

To Kpleeb, it seemed as if she had taken his simple statement at face value.

It is the truth, after all. What was I supposed to do, run away?

Bre arrived with a water skin and handed it to Kpleeb. “Kilow, we go. Molk come see Aytsik.” Bre looked back toward Kpleeb. “Stay. No run.”

Kpleeb nodded and watched Bre and Chief Kilow leave the hut. He took a drink and laid back to rest.

When will you come find me, Thoka?