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TRANSCRIBERS NOTE: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories October,November and December 1948. Extensive research did not uncover anyevidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
The RETURN of THARN
By HOWARD BROWNE
Maddened and in pain from the flames, the lion sprangover the burning stockade]
When Tharn set out to rescue his beloved Dylara, he did not dream the whole Cro-Magnon world opposed him
Trakor, youthful member of the tribe of Gerdak, moved at a swinging trotalong a winding game trail that led to the caves of his people. Throughoccasional rifts in the matted mazes of branches, leafs, creepers andvines of the semi-tropical forest and jungle, rays of the late afternoonsun dappled the dusty elephant path under his naked feet.
His slim young body, clothed only by the pelt of Jalok, the panther,twisted about his loins, was bathed in perspiration, for both heat andhumidity were intense here in the heart of primeval jungle. From timeto time he transferred the flint-tipped spear to his left hand while herubbed dry the sweating palm of his right against his loin cloth; for aslippery spear shaft could mean the difference between life and death ina battle with some savage denizen of this untamed world.
Trakor was beginning to worry. There was less than an hour of daylightremaining and he was still a long way from home. The thought of spendingeven a small portion of a night alone in a territory that abounded inlions, panthers, leopards and the other fearsome creatures of forest andplain, sent shivers of dread coursing along his spine.
And there was no one but himself to blame for this predicament! A boy ofseventeen had no business attempting a task that would have given anolder, more experienced warrior pause. Only a fool, he told himselfbitterly, would have gone forth alone to hunt without having firstgained experience by many trips in the company of seasoned hunters, thuslearning the habits of the wild creatures.
It was all Lanoa's fault! In the soft fragrance of midnight hair curlingabout the tanned oval of her lovely face, in the smoothly roundedperfection of her slender body, in the golden depths of her clear,glowing eyes, were the seeds of madness that had sent him forth on afool's errand! Before coming under her spell he was content to spend hisdays learning from old Wokard the art of painting scenes of tribal lifeand the hunt on the walls of the caves of his people.
Not until he watched Lanoa's other suitors displaying the trophies ofthe hunt did young Trakor make his decision to lay aside his paints andventure out in search of game. For it was easy to see how greatly Lanoawas impressed by the boastful tales of the other young men.
But where they hunted in groups, for safety's sake, Trakor would go outalone after Neela, the zebra, or Bana, the deer. And when Lanoa saw himreturn to the caves of Gerdak with the carcass of Neela across hisshoulders, his heavy spear trailing from a casual hand, then would sherealize that of all the young men of the tribe it was Trakor who wasbest suited to be her mate!
Thus the stuff of dreams ... and how different the reality! Since earlymorning of this day he had wandered through the forest and across widestretches of prairie, seeking any of the various species of succulentgrass-eaters that served as the principal fare of the Cro-Magnons. Andwhile he had caught sight of grazing herds on several occasions, hisutter lack of experience in the art of stalking prevented him fromcoming anywhere near enough for a successful spear cast.
Now he was slinking back home empty handed to face the gibes of those hehad thought to impress, while the light of day gradually waned and thedark shadows of the jungle grew heavier across his path.
But the boy's wounded pride began to trouble him less as the certaintythat he must spend a night in the open became increasingly evident. Theeveryday noises of the jungle, so nerve-wracking to those unable tointerpret them, yet unnoticed by the jungle-wise, kept him in a constantstate of apprehension while his fertile imagination pictured lurkingshapes crouched behind the wall of tangled underbrush lining either sideof the trail.
* * * * *
Without warning, the narrow path debouched into a fair-sized clearing,through the center of which moved the sluggish waters of a shallowstream, its low banks covered with reeds.
Compared with the dull half-light of jungle depths, the glade seemedbright as midday, although the sun had already dipped behind thetowering rampart of trees to the west. Trakor's heart swelled withrenewed confidence and his step was almost jaunty as he moved throughthe knee-deep grasses and rustling reeds to the river bank.
Now he knew exactly where he was. Another hour at a half-trot wouldbring him to the caves of Gerdak. The jungle wasn't such a fearsomeplace after all! He had spent an entire day in the open and not oncecome across anything more dangerous than monkeys and birds. Tomorrow hewould go out again to hunt, nor would he return empty-handed a secondtime.
Dropping to his hands and knees at the river's edge, he drank deeply ofthe brackish waters. Rising, he took up his spear, waded the ankle-deepstream and trotted lightly onward, his goal the break in the oppositewall of trees which marked the continuation of the same trail he hadbeen following.
Thus did young Trakor betray his abysmal ignorance of the jungle and itsinhabitants. No experienced wayfarer of the wild places would haveapproached that opening without the utmost caution; for it is often justsuch a setting the great cats choose as a place to lie in wait for game.
The slender youth was within a few feet of the bole of a mammoth treethat marked the trail's entrance, when a sudden rustling amid a clump ofgrasses to one side of the path brought him to a startled halt.
Before Trakor could recover from his initial shock, those tremblinggrasses parted, and with majestic deliberation, Sadu, the lion, steppedinto the trail less than twenty paces from the paralyzed youngster.
Huge, impressive, his sleek, tawny coat and bristling mane shimmering inthe fading sunlight, his tufted, sinuous tail moving in jerkyundulations, stood the jungle king, his round yellow eyes fastenedhypnotically on his intended prey.
Trakor knew that only seconds remained for him in this life, that withinfleeting moments he must go down to a horrible death beneath rendingfangs.
And with that knowledge came a fatalistic courage--a courage he had notdreamed he possessed. With icy calmness he closed the fingers of hisright hand tightly about the shaft of his spear and brought it up levelwith his shoulder, point foremost, ready for a cast when the great beastshould charge.
Slowly Sadu crouched for the spring, his giant head flattened almost tothe ground, massive hindquarters drawn beneath him like powerfulsprings, his long tail extended and quivering.
Voicing a thunderous roar, Sadu sprang.
* * * * *
Racing across the plains and through the jungles of a savage world,moving with unflagging swiftness by night and by day, came Tharn, mightywarrior of an era already old twenty thousand years before the foundingof Rome--an era which witnessed the arrival to recognizable prehistoryof the first _true man_.
Somewhere to the south of this Cro-Magnon fighting man, separated byendless vistas of primeval forest, grass-filled plains and toweringmountain ranges, were the girl he loved and the men who had taken her.
Still fresh in Tharn's memory were the events of the past few weeks: thebattles in Sephar's arena; the bloody revolt engineered by Tharn and hisfriends; the arrival of his father and fifty warriors of his tribe; theascension of his close friend, Katon, to the kingship of Sephar; thefinding of his own mother, long given up for dead after disappearingfrom the tribal caves ten summers before; the
stunning shock uponlearning that Jotan had taken Dylara with him when he and his party offellow Ammadians began their journey back to far-off Ammad, mothercountry of a civilization and culture far in advance of the Cro-Magnoncave dwellers.[1]
[1] "Warrior of the Dawn", December, 1942-January, 1943, _AmazingStories_.--Ed.
The thrust of a knife from the cowardly and treacherous hand of Sephar'shigh priest had come near to costing Tharn his life on the eve of hisdeparture in quest of Dylara. As it was, an entire moon passed beforethe caveman was able to leave his bed.
Pryak, the high priest, had died horribly in payment of his treachery;but Tharn suffered a thousand deaths from enforced idleness while thegirl he loved was being carried farther and farther from the one personwho possessed the ability to effect her rescue.
And then, over a moon ago, Tharn bade farewell to his mother and to thefather whose name he bore, and plunged into the heart of the unfamiliarterritory south of Sephar, taking up the trail of those Ammadians whoheld Dylara.
* * * * *
Near sunset of this particular day, Tharn awoke from a nap, as it washis practice during the baking heat of mid-afternoons. By thusconserving his strength during the more trying portion of the days, hewas able to spend many hours after nightfall, when the air was cooler,in pursuit of his quarry.
Rising to his feet on a softly swaying branch a full hundred feet abovethe jungle floor, Tharn flexed the mighty muscles of arms and legs, hisnaked chest swelling as he drew in great draughts of humid atmosphere.The slender fingers of his strong, sun-bronzed hand pushed back theshock of thick black hair crowning his finely shaped head and strikinglyhandsome features, while the flashing, intelligent gray eyes rovedquickly over the mazes of foliage surrounding him.
Nor was it his eyes alone that probed those curtains of growing things;ears and a nose keen as those of any jungle dweller were no less active.
He was on the point of descending to the game trail below when Siha, thewind, brought to his sensitive nostrils the scent of man commingled withthe acrid smell of Sadu, the lion.
For the space of a dozen heartbeats he stood there, high above thehard-packed earth, while his keen mind rapidly analyzed the message hisnose had picked up. From the strength of those scents he knew both manand beast were not far away, while the direction of the breeze told himtheir position.
Since the day Tharn, the son of Tharn, set out in search of the girl heloved, he had encountered men on several occasions and always thosemeetings were unpleasant. The Cro-Magnon tribes inhabiting the mountainranges between Sephar and the land of Ammad were distinguished by theirability as fighters and an unflagging suspicion of strangers. Were itnot for Tharn's tremendous strength and incredible agility, he wouldhave died long ere this.
Consequently his first reaction was to let Sadu and the unknown mansettle their impending quarrel without his own intervention. But a basicpart of Tharn's character was his ready willingness to come to the aidof the underdog, to champion the cause of the weak and oppressed. It wasa trait which had brought him to the brink of disaster more than once;but Tharn, were he to have given the matter any thought at all, wouldnot have had it otherwise.
Thus it was that the caveman altered his course to the east and he setoff through the trees, swinging among the branches with the ease andcelerity of little Nobar, the monkey. Now and then, with the agility oflong practice, he sent his lithe body hurtling across some gap betweentrees, to grasp with unerring accuracy the limb his quick eye hadselected. Yet notwithstanding his seemingly reckless pace his passagewas almost soundless; and though the tangled verdure appeared as a solidwall, only rarely did his flying figure scrape against the riot ofvegetation hemming him in.
A few minutes later the giant Cro-Magnard swung into the branches of atree at the edge of a large circular clearing. Even as he reached thebroad surface of a bough extending over the floor of the open ground, hecaught sight of his old enemy, Sadu, the lion, crouching in the trailalmost directly beneath him. Simultaneously he saw Sadu's intended prey:a slender Cro-Magnon youth, some four years younger than Tharn himself,who was standing stiffly erect, facing the lion, a flint-tipped spearpoised in his right hand.
Tharn felt himself thrill to the boy's unflinching courage even as herecognized its futility, since no human could thus withstand theiron-thewed engine of destruction that was Sadu, the lion.
Tharn was given no opportunity to make use of his arrows or grass rope;for even as he observed the two figures below, the lion's tail shotstiffly erect, a shattering roar split apart the jungle stillness andSadu charged.
As a swimmer dives from a springboard, so did Tharn launch himself intospace, his right hand snatching the flint knife from the folds of hisloincloth as he left the branch.
* * * * *
Never before had the cave lord thus attacked the king of beasts; butnever before had he sought to wrest Sadu's prey, unharmed, from theanimal's fangs and claws. As it was, he landed full upon the lion'sback, crushing the beast to earth only inches short of its goal.
Voicing a startled shriek, Sadu rebounded from the forest floor like atawny ball and turned to rend his foolhardy attacker.
Tharn, however, was not on the ground. His mind, trained from birth tofunction with lightning-like rapidity, had chosen the only way toprevent his unplanned act from resulting in certain death for himself.And so it was, as his diving body crushed Sadu to the ground, he passedhis strong left arm about its neck, locked his powerful legs about itsloins, and plunged his flint knife into its side, seeking the savageheart.
Roaring, snarling and spitting in a frenzy of rage, Sadu reared high andtoppled back upon the human leech. But Tharn's legs locked only thetighter while the heavy knife, backed by biceps like banded layers ofsteel, sank home again and again.
Had the battle endured seconds longer the outcome might very well havebeen reversed. But before then Tharn's weapon tore twice into thatuntamed heart, and Sadu, with a final fearsome shriek, collapsed to moveno more.
As Tharn rose to his feet, his calm gray eyes met the awed,half-mesmerized gaze of the boy whose life he had saved. At sight of theincredulous expression on the young face, the cave lord's firm lipscurved in a winning smile that lighted up his strong, noble features.
As for Trakor, he could not have moved or spoken had his life dependedon it. There was no doubt in his mind but that he was in the presence ofone of the gods old Wokard often described. Who else but a god couldslay Sadu with only a knife; who else but a god could possess such acombination of inhuman strength and unbelievable agility? The noblepoise of that handsome head above broad shoulders, the soft sinuouscurves of that straight and perfect figure, the unclouded bronze skin,the calm dignity of bearing and manner--all those things were attributesof the benign gods who watched over and protected the people of Gerdak'stribe.
Tharn's smile broadened as he guessed something of what was runningthrough the boy's mind.
"Do you," he asked, "hunt often for Sadu with only a spear?"
Trakor shivered. "I would not hunt him with a forest of spears! When hecame out of the grasses my blood turned to water and my toes crawledunder my heels. Now I know what it is to be afraid!"
"You should have taken to the trees while I fought with Sadu," Tharnsaid. "Had he killed me, he would have slain you as well."
"Even Sadu cannot kill a god," the boy said simply.
Tharn blinked. "A god? I am no god. I am Tharn, a man of the caves, likeyou."
Trakor, while tremendously flattered at being compared with thestranger, was far from convinced that Tharn was telling the truth.
"A caveman could not slay Sadu thus," he declared, pushing a bare toegingerly against the dead beast's back. "No, you are a god, for godshave been described to me many times by old Wokard, who knows all aboutsuch things."
The giant Cro-Magnard shrugged, smiling, and sought to change thesubject. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Trakor, of the
tribe of Gerdak."
"The caves of your people are nearby?"
"An hour's march in that direction," Trakor said, pointing.
Tharn's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "So far? Do you often go alone thisdeep into the jungle?"
Whereupon Trakor found himself telling the forest god the whole story:how the raven-haired Lanoa had shown, by her admiration for the younghunters of the tribe, that she would never become the mate of a man whodid not excel in the hunt; how he was determined to prove to her and tothe others of Gerdak's tribe that he too was a great hunter.
Tharn listened with grave attention, and while there were times when hewas tempted to smile at some unconscious revelation of the boy'scharacter, he resisted the impulse. It required courage to venture aloneinto the forest armed only with a spear. The soul of an artist, asrevealed by Trakor's love of painting, had clashed with the hot blood ofyouth and a desire to appear to advantage in the eyes of a lovely woman.Older and more conservative men than Tharn would have named Trakor's actsheer lunacy; but Tharn was neither old nor conservative. Under thecircumstances he would have done exactly the same thing.
* * * * *
When Trakor was finished, Tharn said, "There will be other days forhunting. Unless you are willing to travel the jungle at night, you hadbest start for the caves of Gerdak."
Trakor sought to hide his apprehension as he looked about thedusk-filled glade and back to the dark hole which marked the game trailentrance.
"You are right," he said, turning to the cave lord. "I am grateful toyou for saving me from Sadu, mighty Tharn. Who knows but that someday Imay be of help to you."
"Who knows?" Tharn repeated gravely.
He remained standing there as Trakor turned and walked briskly towardthe wall of foliage to the south. The boy's shoulders were squared andhis brown-thatched head erect as he moved away, and Tharn felt a warmglow of admiration at the fierce pride that would not let its owner askfor further protection. For he knew that secretly Trakor dreaded thethought of traversing the final stretch of night-shrouded jungle.
Purposely he waited until the youth was nearly out of sight, to learnif, at the last moment, Trakor's step might falter or his head turn forone last appealing glance. But the boy forged steadily ahead....
"Wait, Trakor," Tharn called.
The youth turned quickly and watched as Tharn gathered up his bow,quiver of arrows and grass rope from where they had fallen when heleaped to do battle with Sadu. With his weapons restored to their usualplaces, the caveman rejoined Trakor at the forest's edge.
"Since my way lies in the same direction," Tharn said, "I will go withyou for a time."
"Good," Trakor said laconically. He might have said more, but he doubtedthe steadiness of his own voice, so great his relief.
Side by side they moved briskly along the winding trail, while the gloomof early night grew amidst the semi-tropical depths of forest and itsinextricably tangled maze of branches, vines and creepers.
In some way these two members of the first race of _true men_ to trodthe globe were much alike; in others, as different as day from night. Inage Tharn was no more than four years beyond his companion; in heightperhaps an inch taller. Both were darkly tanned and each was clothedonly by a loin-cloth of panther skin.
But there the similarity ended. Where Trakor was slender and withmuscles not yet fully developed, Tharn's bronzed body was sheathed insupple sinews that rippled like steel cables beneath smooth skin. Therewas an undefinable surety, a boundless confidence, reflected in thegraceful majesty of his expression and bearing. Unconsciously Trakorsought to carry himself in a like manner, for he was deep in the throesof hero worship.
"Tell me, Tharn," Trakor said diffidently, at last, "are you not truly agod?"
"It might be," Tharn said lightly. "Since I have never met a god, Iwould not know."
Trakor thought over the answer for a while. It did not seem that a realgod such as old Wokard described would speak so of himself. Could it bethat his new found friend, for all his superhuman abilities, wasactually an ordinary man, just as he had claimed from the first?
Well, man he might be, but never an ordinary one!
"I am glad you are a man, Tharn," he said finally. "I do not think Iwould like to know a god."
"Nor would I," Tharn agreed soberly.
* * * * *
They moved rapidly ahead for a time, neither speaking. Suddenly thethunderous challenge of a lion rose from the depths of jungle not far totheir right. Trakor shivered slightly and shot a quick glance at hiscompanion. It was too dark for him to make out Tharn's expression but heseemed entirely unmoved by the sound of Sadu's voice.
A moment later Trakor heard the rustle of something moving in theundergrowth beside the trail, and a prickly sensation crawled along hisspine. Sadu was hunting again! He would have liked to call Tharn'sattention to the faint sound but hesitated to do so lest he appearoverly nervous. Again came the slight rustle.
"It is Gubo, the hyena," Tharn said unexpectedly.
Trakor gasped. "How do you know that?" he demanded, both relieved andbewildered.
"He is upwind from us."
"Upwind? You mean you can scent him?"
"Yes."
The young man from the tribe of Gerdak nearly betrayed his skepticism.Never before had he heard of a man whose nose could receive andinterpret a scent spoor. It smacked of a kinship with the animalsthemselves.
"Are you sure?" he asked uneasily.
Tharn's quick ear caught the undercurrent of incredulity in the boy'svoice, and he smiled under the cover of darkness. It was not the firsttime his unique ability had been doubted. He drew Trakor to a halt.
"Watch," he said.
Lifting his head the cave lord gave voice to the hunting squall of aleopard. So perfect was his imitation of Tarlok's cry, so fearsome thesound, that Trakor shrank back in quick alarm.
As the harsh scream rose on the night air, there was a sudden flurry ofmotion among the tangled foliage to their right, a blurred figureskidded into the trail ahead of where they stood and disappeared arounda bend of the path. In the brief moment in which it was visible, Trakorrecognized the animal as Gubo.
Crestfallen, Trakor could think of nothing to say. Never again, heresolved, would he doubt any statement made by this god-like stranger.There were many questions he burned to ask, but an aura of reserveseemed to surround the man--an aura he hesitated to intrude upon. Atlast he could contain his curiosity no longer.
"Where lie the caves of your people, Tharn?"
"Nearly two moons' march to the north," the cave lord replied readilyenough.
"You came so great a distance alone?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Tharn did not at once reply. During the moon since he had set out fromSephar in search of Dylara this was his first opportunity for a friendlyword with a fellow man. On the several occasions that he encounteredhunting parties of Cro-Magnon warriors, he had been regarded aslegitimate prey to be hunted down and slain. Tharn expected no differentattitude; it was the way of his own people when they came acrossfighting-men of other tribes. Consequently he gave such groups a wideberth, fighting against them only when given no other choice.
Long periods of silence, however, were no hardship to Tharn. Sinceboyhood he was accustomed to spending most of his days and many nightsalone in the jungles and on the broad plains of this savage, untamedworld, finding his greatest pleasure in matching his courage, cunningand strength against the denizens of forest and prairie. And becausenone of the other young men of his father's tribe was so highlydeveloped mentally or physically, he made no intimates among them.
It was the kind of life which tends to develop a reticent nature in anyman; and while Tharn was in no way morose or antisocial he was given tosaying little beyond what must, of necessity, be put into words.
* * * * *
Under the warmth of Trakor's awed respect
and undisguised admiration,however, Tharn's customary reserve began to thaw and he spoke at greaterlength than he intended.
"Two moons ago," he began, while they moved steadily along the twistingelephant path, "the girl I wanted as my mate was taken by a group of menwho called themselves Ammadians. These men came from a great territorythat lies south of your own caves. Ages ago many hundreds of theAmmadians left their country and traveled into the north, stoppingfinally in a high valley only a few marches from where the caves of mypeople now are."
"Here they built many strange caves on level ground by piling heavyslabs of rock together, surrounding them all by a great wall of stone.They named this place Sephar and spoke of themselves as Sepharians."
"From time to time bands of Ammadians cross the plains and mountains andjungles between Ammad and Sephar. The leader of one of those bands, anAmmadian named Jotan, saw Dylara and wanted her for himself. Not longbefore this, Dylara had been taken from me by a hunting party ofSepharians, and she was held captive by Sephar's chief until he gave herto Jotan."
"Soon thereafter Jotan's party set out on the return journey to Ammad.Because of a wound, it was an entire moon before I was able to set outin pursuit of those who hold Dylara."
So engrossed was Trakor in the other's story that he quite forgot hisuneasiness regarding the night-cloaked jungle about him. His imaginationwas fired by Tharn's adventures, and his ready sympathy went out to thecave lord in his romantic quest.
"Then you must enter the land called Ammad and take Dylara from thosewho have her?" he asked.
Tharn nodded. "At first," he said, "I hoped to overtake Jotan and hismen before they could reach Ammad. But several times I lost their trailfor days on end. Once a raging fire swept over a great stretch ofgrasslands I was crossing and I was forced to spend many days circlingthe burned section before I was able to pick up the signs of theirpassage. Then, ten suns ago, I lost the trail completely; since then Ihave been guided only by the directions given me when I left Sephar."
For a little while Trakor did not speak. Then: "Are these men you callAmmadians not so large as the people of our tribes? Do they cover theirbodies with a strange kind of skin that comes from no animal? And dothey wear strange coverings on their feet? And do they carry a strangelength of branch with a tight length of gut tied to each end and manysmall spears such as you are carrying?"
Tharn, his pulses suddenly beginning to pound, seized the boy by onearm, bringing him to an involuntary halt. "Such are the Ammadians," hesaid tensely. "What do you know about them?"
"I have heard the warriors of my tribe speak of them," Trakor said."There have been times in the past when we fought them. But they arebrave and good fighters and we do not have the gut-strung branches whichthrow the small spears so straight and so far. So now we seek no quarrelwith them unless they come too near our caves."
"Why, it was no more than five suns ago that Roban, son of Gerdakhimself, watched a large party of them as they made their way up thegreat cliffs not far to the east of our caves. I heard him tell about itat the cooking fires that same night."
"Did he speak of women being among them?" Tharn demanded.
Trakor scratched his head. "I do not think so. As I remember it now, Idid not hear the whole story; for Lanoa walked away from the fires and Ifollowed her before Roban had finished."
Tharn's hand dropped from the boy's arm. "Come," he said, and once morethey set out along the path.