Defeat (Caveman Chronicles)

The Index -|-

Kpleeb rested in the hut and thought about his conversations with Chief Kilow and Bre.

Chief Kilow seemed grateful, and Bre appeared to accept the idea of trading food for knowledge. What can we teach her? Math maybe.

He remembered his math lessons in the caves. Thoka had always been so much smarter than him, especially at math. As he looked back now, he realized that despite the significance of his changes, Thoka had always outpaced him.

I could only count to eight! He grimaced with personal embarrassment and tried to re-center his thoughts.

Maybe I should speak to the smartest caveperson in this village in order to determine a baseline. It might help know what to teach them.

“Kpleeb!” The cry came from outside.

Kpleeb stood and went to the door of the hut. A hand swept the reeds away from the door, and he saw Bre’s face peering in.

“Aytsik gone,” Bre said as Kpleeb followed her outside and around the huts.

“What’s an Eyetseek?”

“Pale warrior.”

They approached the spot where Kpleeb had knocked out the pale warrior. Molk was there with Chief Kilow and a few of Molk’s warriors. The Aytsik was gone. Molk turned abruptly toward Kpleeb and raised a huge fist.

“Where Aytsik?!” he bellowed.

“Molk, calm,” said Chief Kilow. “Kpleeb smash Aytsik, then in hut with Kilow.”

“True,” said Bre. “Aytsik always gone.” She nodded assertively at Molk. “Kpleeb protect cavechildren. I see.”

Molk scoffed and looked at Kpleeb. “Puny caveman.” His biceps flexed in a momentary challenge of Kpleeb’s cavemanhood.

Kpleeb looked around. He could see the scuffs in the dirt where he had fought the pale warrior, but there was no blood or any other sign that there had been a body there. He looked in all directions to find an escape path. On one side were the huts that surrounded the village center, and on the other side was the jungle.

It would be easy to hide in there… But how did he awake and escape so quickly? Kpleeb felt pretty certain that the pale warrior had been unconscious when they had gone to the hut. He sighed audibly and shrugged.

“He must have awakened while we were talking.”

“Aytsik come back,” stated Molk. “Must eat, heal.” He wiped blood off a cut on his arm.

“I can help you,” said Kpleeb. “Let me fight with you.”

Chief Kilow nodded. “Women get water and food. Come sit, talk.” She waved at Molk who was still sputtering over Kpleeb’s offer to fight.

Kpleeb followed Chief Kilow as she led the way to a circle of thick logs set around fire pit. He had seen the cavepeople converse here many times, but had never been invited to participate. When Molk, Bre, Kilow, and a handful of other cavemen and cavewomen had seated themselves on the logs, shallow, clay bowls of water were handed out. That was followed up by tubers, and a spicy, fibrous vegetable that made Kpleeb drink more water.

“Molk,” said Chief Kilow, “need more warrior. Aytsik strong.”

Molk grumbled loudly around a mouthful. “Aytsik more strong today.”

It sounded like a statement of fact to Kpleeb. “Are the Aytsik not usually so strong?”

Molk stared at him with contempt. “Aytsik strong. Molk crush.” He bounced his peck muscles and slapped the warrior beside him on the back.

Chief Kilow nodded toward Kpleeb. “Kpleeb right. Aytsik strong today. Molk lose many warrior. Molk need favor of Qui.”

“Qui not help,” muttered Molk. He lifted a bowl and sloshed water into his wide mouth. “Warriors watch for Aytsik.”

Kpleeb ate and drank quietly, and for the moment, he felt like he was partially accepted. Molk seemingly only spoke when he wanted to brag or put someone else down. He watched as Molk ate and Bre and Chief Kilow conversed together quietly.

After a few moments, a warrior ran up. He was limping. “Molk, Aytsik attack now.” The young man pointed toward the canyon and paused to take a drink out of a waiting bowl.

Everyone seated jumped to their feet, and the warriors hefted their spears. Kpleeb looked at Bre and Chief Kilow, but Bre motioned downward with her palm, and so he remained silent. In a moment all of the warriors had run toward the fight.

“Kpleeb, fight with us. Come,” said Chief Kilow. She gestured with her hand, and he followed her. She reached a hut and grabbed three clubs as long as Kpleeb’s arm. Handing one of them to Kpleeb, she nodded curtly. “Need Qui. Big fight today.”

Bre took one of the clubs and nodded gravely at Kpleeb. “Protect cavechildren.”

“I will fight. You lead the way.” Kpleeb felt the weight of the club in his hand. It had a bulbous knot on the very end that would do some nasty damage if directed to the right spot of flesh. He turned and saw the battle drawing closer to the village as Molk and his warriors were slowly forced back. A pale figure came out of the trees behind the hut to his right.

Kpleeb ran after the figure and found that it was very quick. He saw it a dozen steps ahead of him bounding over branches, rocks, and other obstacles before it veered around the corner of a hut. Kpleeb knew that the village center was around that corner. That was where the cavechildren and women were gathered. He sprinted around the next corner and saw the group of women with clubs facing the pale figure.

The Aytsik slowed and stalked sideways around the shifting group of women and children.

Kpleeb quietly tried to remain behind the pale figure and out of its sight. As though to help him, several of the women began to howl at the warrior and bang their various clubs and sticks on the ground at their feet.

The Aytsik laughed and twitched its long, springy spear once, twice, and then the third time, the spear stuck in the leg of one of the cavewomen.

She cried out in pain, and the other cavewomen jumped forward in unison and began clubbing the Aytsik from every angle.

Kpleeb ran forward and swung his club where he could. Several of his strikes landed, and soon, the Aytsik turned and ran toward the trees. Kpleeb followed as fast as he could run, but the pale warrior parkoured over everything and soon disappeared into the jungle. Though he searched for a few minutes, he saw no sign that anyone had passed by. It seemed strange to him that someone who had been so severely beaten could move with that speed and agility.

Finally, he gave up and returned to the village. There he discovered that the fighting had breached the line of huts that created the inner boundary of the village. Molk and a handful of his warriors were fighting viciously between the cavechildren and a horde of Aytsik. Kpleeb ran to the frontlines and began to swing his club in a wide figure-eight. He began breathing hard almost immediately.

Molk grunted nearby and guffawed loudly when he saw Kpleeb. His club crushed a pale warrior’s ribcage, but as the figure faded back into the ranks, another one took its place. Molk kept swinging with gusto.

“Fight, weakling!” yelled Molk at Kpleeb. “No die!”

Kpleeb remained silent as he breathed heavily through clenched teeth. He swung time after time, and his arm muscles burned with the effort. Spears penetrated his personal space over and over. Some of them nicked and scratched him. Blood ran down his legs in thin lines. Soon he stepped back to avoid a sharp stick and stepped on a foot. He glanced behind him quickly and saw Bre there with a club, and behind her the cavechildren huddled.

“Look!” Bre yelled. She raised her arm and lashed out with her club. She swatted a spear out of the air next to Kpleeb’s head.

Kpleeb flinched involuntarily and turned back toward the fray. The situation had become worse that he imagined. They were down to very few cavepeople and a few cavechildren. Hope was almost completely gone, but the Aytsik kept coming. He could see no end to their pale figures. The looks on their faces were almost deadpan as they moved in and jabbed incessantly at the villagers.

A warrior next to Kpleeb cried out with a piercing scream and fell to the ground. Blood pulsed out of a wound in his neck and Kpleeb stared down at him in horror. He had never personally experienced a battle where there was real and lasting death so close. Bre stepped into the gap and swung her club down onto the head of an Aytsik warrior. The figure fell backward and was pulled away by grasping pale hands.

Molk grunted as he was speared in the arm. He grasped the spear and ripped it from his flesh and then proceeded to punch the spear’s original owner in the face with its butt several times. As before, the figure bloodied and fell back into waiting pale hands.

Kpleeb feared for his life.

His breath rose and fell with his chest and his arms. His club struck out in a steady rhythm. His feet became entirely bloody, and his hearing was muted with the sound of rushing blood and adrenaline.

A sound rose in the distance. It was a deep thrumming that was felt through the soles of the feet of those who fought in the village center. It was subtle at first, and Kpleeb did not notice.

The pale warriors noticed quickly, but their actions did not slow. It was just a momentary distraction if anything, they seemed to want to finish the task of conquering the village before moving on to other things.

There was a crash from beyond the village and the trees shook. Birds burst out of the trees in a sudden gale of winged panic. There was a crash as tree fell in the distance followed by a strange screech that pierced Kpleeb’s ears. The new sensations scared him and bile rose in his throat. His bloody hand slipped and the long club he wielded dropped to his feet.

A spear whipped forward and slapped the side of Kpleeb’s head. His vision swam and darkened.

He slumped and fell.