The Uprights Page 2

*****

  Tahk was born just one winter before Ohp, although from appearances it could have been more. The younger male is badly scarred about the face and neck, but he retains the rounder, softer features of his earlier days. In contrast, his half-brother has an angular – almost gaunt – profile. More prominent brow. Larger nose. Protruding chin. Quick, lean eyes. Strong shoulders and back. However, it isn’t bone and muscle which keeps him dominant to the other. It’s his ability to understand all those things on the ground and in the sky that mystify the rest of the family and then explain them all so clearly. It’s to do with what he sees. It’s to do with what he says.

  *****

  “Come up here. Join the others.”

  In spite of the order, Ohp only shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

  “These beasts will make us strong again. I want you to see.”

  Still Ohp barely looks up.

  “Come here. I tell you, come here.”

  At last, the other does as he is told.

  “I know what you think, Ohp. But those beasts prove I’ve been right to come to the valley.”

  Ohp climbs hesitantly and it isn’t just because he’s wary of the creature with many legs. At least he knows where it’s lurking and can find another way up. It’s because of something else altogether. There might be beasts in the valley, as Tahk says, but they’re a long way off. And they will do their best to avoid being caught. They always do.

  “Can you see now?”

  “Yes. B-but … “

  “Ohp!”

  “Seeing them is … easy. Killing them is … difficult.”

  Tahk’s feelings about his brother change again and he scowls with irritation. He has had to suffer Ohp’s lack of enthusiasm ever since they set off. No, for much longer than that. Ever since that terrible battle with the lions when one of his sons was killed and Ohp was badly injured. Now he can no longer control his temper. Only, before he can say anything, the other speaks up.

  “How do we … kill them, Tahk?”

  “Don’t you know how to hunt?”

  “Of course … I do. B-but each time is … different.”

  “I’ll tell you. We slide down into the valley. Then we crouch in the long grass. Move slowly towards the beasts. Make no noise. When we are near, we rush at them. Hit them with our stones. Smash their heads with our clubs.”

  Ohp listens quietly, but refuses to be intimidated.

  “The b-beasts will hear us … long b-before … we reach them. Smell us. Then they run away. They are … very quick.”

  Tahk’s authority is being questioned and he doesn’t like it. But that isn’t all. The pain in his toe is getting worse.

  “I know that. I’m not like you. Your head is the head of a beast. You understand nothing. Remember nothing.”

  “B-but, Tahk.”

  “If we can stop the beasts seeing and smelling us, we will have our meat. I know how to make it be like that.”

  “It’s not … that, Tahk.”

  “Stop. You have said too much. You must show me respect, now. Go down. Bow. Do it now or I will hit you again.”

  “It’s something … else.”

  “Enough. Submit. Submit.”

  “Tahk.”

  “Stop. Stop.”

  At last, Ohp lowers his head and bends at the waist. And as he does these things, Tahk raises his voice. Not much. Not to a shout. Or even to a level that’s much louder than his usual speech. But sufficient for all to hear. Not just the things he has to say to the one in front of him, but to show them all he doesn’t have a stutter like his rival.

  “What’s it going to be? Give way or fight?”

  But before Ohp can answer, Tahk closes with him, pressing himself against the other’s face. Mouth. Nose. Of course, his animal-skin keeps flesh from flesh, but he wants his half-brother to smell the odour of his body. His maleness. The power of his club and stones. That which has attracted the largest harem in the family. That which keeps him leader.

  Ohp pulls away in disgust.

  “I’m wrong, Tahk. You … have the strength of a lion. I am nothing … b-but a snake.”

  It seems that, once again, Ohp isn’t ready for a battle. Yet how can it be otherwise, when they are in sight of their prey and the other hunters can already taste the flesh of the beasts? But nor is he finished. He is doubled-up and in discomfort and only too aware of a new gap in his teeth, but he can still talk.

  “How do … we catch the b-beasts?”

  Ohp doesn’t like giving way, especially when he is in the right.

  Tahk glances at the stooped back and the dropped head. He could go lower and be more convincing, but it’s a lot better than what has gone on before. The non-stop questions. The undermining comments. It’s not even as if Ohp is stronger than him. Able to speak as well. And then what does he understand of the sun; the wind and the rain; the short dry summers and the long cold winters? Nothing. So why does he challenge him for the leadership all the time? No. He is wrong. The other never challenges. Not properly. Not like a hunter who has confidence in himself. Not like he did when he became leader.

  He even begins to feel sorry for his half-brother.

  “You can stand now, Ohp.”

  “Yes, Tahk.”

  “You’re frightened of me. Aren’t you?”

  “No. Yes. No.”

  “You know you will never defeat me, don’t you?

  “Yes. No.”

  “Don’t you want to eat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we must hunt. Can you remember how we did it last time?”

  Ohp shakes his head as a sign that he doesn’t. Or perhaps that what’s important is not how they hunt, but where they hunt. No. It’s not exactly that either. The distracted look in his eyes conveys something else. Something else entirely.

  “Were the b-beasts trapped in front of the river?”

  “Yes.”

  If Ohp knows something that Tahk doesn’t, he isn’t saying.

  “Did we kill … more than we could carry?”

  “Yes.”

  Again that faraway look. The half-knowing expression.

  “I shouldn’t have to remind you, Ohp. You have hunted many times.”

  “Can we do the same … today? Will … the b-beasts run towards the … river? Will it b-be too … deep for them to cross?”

  Ohp pauses, as if he is thinking of other things. Of other times. Then he turns away from Tahk and gazes down into the valley. From the beginning, he suspected something was wrong. Now he is sure.

  “Tahk. The river. Where’s the … river?”

  The question, apparently so innocent and reasonable, makes the older hunter catch his breath and for a while he cannot say or do anything. Then he too looks down, although not at the swathes of yellows and browns and purples stretching indistinctly into the distance. Nor the more solid beasts in the foreground. And certainly not the blue-blur of the far hills. Instead, for the first time since he became aware of the pain, he makes a deliberate effort to examine himself. He lifts a leg and prods a toe. He has been bitten. He can no longer pretend he hasn’t. Attacked by an animal he could have so easily destroyed. Even more annoyingly, the creature is still clinging to him, unperturbed, tightening its grip, no doubt still pumping its deadly poison into him. He should have been more careful. Gone another way. But it’s worse than that. It’s still alive. He can feel it digging into his skin. Probing his flesh. How dare it to do that? Hasn’t it finished with him yet? Done its worse? Well if that’s what it wants, he will crush it now, where he stands, bellowing defiance even if it means sending the beasts below off in all directions. Grinding his foot on the rough rock so savagely that he draws blood. Lots of blood.

  Tahk examines the stain, watching his bodily fluids seeping into the dust and the spindly legs being scattered in the wind, its life – perhaps his life – being carried away. Then he remembers who he is. What he is doing. He lifts his head. Creases his eyes. Searches for the river. He is still leader and he isn’t dead yet.

  But Ohp is right. Where is the river? Surely he followed the usual route from the caves and is even now standing on the rocky promontory he always favours. Everything has been done properly and yet there is no river. And without a river to block the escape of the fleeing animals they are going to remain hungry, for an upright with only two legs can never run as fast as a beast with four.

  Ohp smiles because he understands his brother’s latest silence is a sign of weakness and not, as it was before, of strength.

  “Can’t you hear … me, Tahk? Can’t you see the … river either?”

  Tahk can hear of course and understands what Ohp is trying to do, but since he doesn’t know what to say, he keeps quiet. Besides he is wondering. Thinking.

  “Tahk, without a river we can … never catch the b-beasts. Why don’t … we go b-back to the … settlement?”

  The leader still doesn’t answer, or for that matter, move. Instead, his eyes sweep the valley again and again, trying to work things out.

  “Why don’t you … speak to us, Tahk? Give us new … orders?”

  Tahk’s absence makes the others restless, especially the increasingly confident Ohp.

  “Do you want me to … take over, Tahk?”

  The other pretends he doesn’t hear.

  “Tahk. Tahk.”

  There is still silence.

  “Can I take the p-pack b-back to the cave?”

  At last the leader holds up a hand.

  “Stop. You have said enough.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s too hot. Too dry. The river is asleep.”

  Ohp and the others look at him quizzically.

  “The clouds and the rain are asleep too. Have been asleep for a long time. T
hat’s why the grass is so yellow. Why there are not so many beasts.”

  The hunters gather around their leader. Not Ohp though. He isn’t interested in this explanation. Any explanation.

  “Let’s go b-back now.”

  But Tahk has decided what to do and it isn’t what Ohp wants. It rarely is.

  “No. We stay here. We find our meat. But not in front of the river. We cut up a beast. But not the one we have killed.”

  The leader often mystifies his hunters, but now they are uneasy as well as puzzled. Before, they were wondering what might be ahead of them. Now they know. At least they think they know.

  Tahk breathes in deeply. Flicks out his tongue. Flares his nostrils. Tries to know the truth of his pack. And in doing that he smells the sweat of marching. And – now – increasingly – the sweat of fear.

  “Look up. Do you see the sun?”

  They glance up, shielding their eyes from the glare.

  “When it gets dark, the sun goes to sleep. Then the sun’s female – the moon – wakes up and walks across the sky.”

  The hunters already know this, but none can explain it so clearly. And that alone makes it worth listening to.

  “Now look over there. What do you see?”

  The hunters turn around to study a part of the sky just above the rim of the valley.

  “Do you see the moon? Shyly hiding part of her body. Do you see her?”

  “Yes, Tahk. We see her.”

  “Why has she woken up before her time?”

  None answer, for not one of them knows.

  “She has come out to tell us something.”

  Then correcting himself, he adds: “Tell me something. She says we should leave the river. Instead, we should march towards her. And then, when she sends a messenger to us, we go down into the valley and find a beast. A beast that will offer us its flesh.”

  “A messenger, Tahk?”

  “Yes, a messenger. Many messengers.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Vultures.”

  “What will their message be?”

  “They will say: follow us. We will take you to a beast that has been felled by another.”

  “Another?”

  “Yes. A lion.”

  A lion! More likely, many lions! So now they know the plan for sure. And their fate. Tahk is intent on taking a beast from the jaws of the lions. And that is the most dangerous thing a hunter ever has to do.

  Dhi looks at his father with a mixture of respect and amusement. Respect, because the leader is once again showing he’s as brave as the ones he plans to confront. Nor is he unfamiliar with Tahk’s views about meat. Don’t they all enjoy chewing flesh, slurping blood, breaking open bones, swallowing marrow and brain? But he’s also amused with the way his father is covering up. Of course, he isn’t expecting an admission of failure. That isn’t the leader’s way, but why talk about the sun and the moon like that? What help can they possibly be in finding a beast?

  Then the vultures. Surely they are just animals like all the others? Or are they special as Tahk says? Can they really bring messages? Of course they can fly and the uprights, whatever else they can do, cannot do that. And once they are high in the sky, who can say whether they talk to the moon?

  As they follow Tahk towards the white crescent, their tiredness seems to lift. They may have already marched a long way with nothing to eat except the dried roots they brought with them and teased their thirsts with the meagre contents of their bags. But soon they will eat and drink their fill. And all they have to do is to keep watch for vultures. What could be easier?

  *****

  “There. Over there,” cries Ohp.

  “Look … where … my finger p-points. Can you see?”

  Murmurs of relief ripple around the pack. Maybe their long journey has now come to an end. Maybe tonight they will go to sleep full. Maybe all sorts of pleasant things, but their excitement is cut short by Tahk.

  “It’s too late. It’s too far.”

  Ohp is bitterly disappointed at the rebuff and turns away in disgust.

  “The messengers will come again. Tomorrow. Then we follow them. First we rest. Sleep.”

  Some scour the area for a few drops of water, some for things to eat. They won’t get much, but they can be still, and attend to bodies weakened and damaged by their travels. Their feet in particular need attention, so apart from a few berries, the scouting party brings back a bundle of wilted leaves – not to eat – but to rub into sores and wounds. Do such remedies really work? Tahk certainly hopes so, for he can think of little else except his toe. The pain. And those images of lions ripping him open.

  The hunters ready themselves in other ways too. Weapons, that have so far been nothing but a nuisance, now have to be examined with the greatest of care. Will their clubs shatter the skull of a beast or fall to pieces in their hands? If there is doubt, they have to be replaced. Will they run out of stones? Better make sure their bags are full.

  So in their own way and in their own time, they prepare for the day ahead. They want to live, but know they may die. And either way, they have to be ready.

  But they haven’t finished. In order to give themselves confidence nothing will go wrong, they go over everything again. And with sufficient checking, their self-belief gets stronger. Turns to hope. Of victory, preferably. Of survival, at least. For some, such a possibility seems real. But only for a while, for then it slips away and is replaced by fear. They know their enemy only too well.

  So why, Ohp keeps asking himself, do they have to take such risks when there is a much better alternative? He isn’t ready for sleep.

  “Tahk. Can I … talk to you?”

  “If you must.”

  “Why do you want to … fight lions?”

  “I don’t, but they catch beasts for us.”

  “Why don’t we go … to the forest instead? It’s b-better.”

  “No, Ohp. There’re more beasts in the valley. They’re everywhere. Even when it’s dry.”

  “Also lions.”

  “Yes. But in the forest, the beasts are much smaller. They hide in the trees.”

  “P-perhaps. B-but it’s much … safer.”

  “Ohp. The forest is our past. It’s where our fathers’ fathers hunted. The valley is for us now. No, not just for us. It’s for our infants. And the infants of our infants.”

  “I still think it’s b-best to … hunt in the forest.”

  “That’s enough. Be quiet.”

  “Tahk.”

  There is to be no answer. Instead, the leader turns away from his brother. Shuts his eyes. Tries to think of the coming battle. Tries to imagine what can go wrong.

  *****

  Tahk posts only one guard for the night. He is sure the lions will never think of climbing their hill and catching the uprights when they are asleep and defenceless even though tomorrow, the hunters will go down into the valley and take the fight to them. What does their enemy know of trickery? Of being cunning as well as strong?

  Bang bang bang bang.

  Very quietly, a hunter strikes his club on the ground.