The Mantooth Part 1

The Mantooth.

by Christopher Leadem.

Chapter 1

Kalus* was wakened that morning by the sound of stalking footsteps.

Reaching instinctively for his spear, he raised himself slowly and turned to face the sound.

*which means, 'The Carnivore.'

There before him, shrouded in the shadows of early morning, he perceived an ominous silhouette. It was Akar, the lone he-wolf that had followed his tribe for some time, living off the gnarled sc.r.a.ps of meat that the hill-people left behind after every kill. Kalus had often wondered what unaccountable circ.u.mstance caused it to leave the safety of the pack to strike out and fend for itself.

At first he was relieved. For this was only a scavenger, probably hoping to steal an unguarded morsel and slink away unseen.

But his instincts told him otherwise. There was something unnerving about the way the beast just stood there, as if unsure of its own intentions. Even in the dim light of the cave's entrance he could see that it had not eaten for many days. Arching ribs protruded sharply through an emaciated chest, and his eyes were wild with the blood-l.u.s.t of a carnivore.

Something stirred deep within the young tribesman as he realized the true hopelessness of its plight. Cut off from the pack it could not hunt successfully, and there now, it stalked a prey it had no chance of killing. For all around him his comrades lay sleeping, and if aroused, they would kill the intruder without hesitation.

Reaching into a crude deerskin pouch slung across his shoulder, he pulled forth a long strand of cooked meat. Holding it outward enticingly, he motioned toward the terrified hunter.

Slowly, haltingly, the shadow moved forward, too near death from starvation to be cautious. When it was close enough Kalus tossed the meat gently into the air, where it was snapped up quickly by the waiting jaws of the hunger-crazed wolf. Smiling inwardly, he reached into his pouch once more and prepared to repeat the procedure.

Suddenly from behind him came the sound of angry voices. Whirling about he saw that the tribesmen had woken, and seeing the wolf, had armed themselves to attack. The frightened creature turned, but found there was nowhere to run. Barabbas, leader of the hill-people, had blocked the entrance to the cave and stood there waiting, a long spear clasped in his hairy hand. Forming a circle around the intruder, the tribesmen began to converge. Helpless, the wolf rolled over in the dirt, as if to beg for mercy. But the tribesmen showed it none, continuing to advance.

But then a strange thing happened, something that had not been seen on Earth since the disappearance of modern man from the continent. Not understanding why, or even how he did it, Kalus stepped forward and uttered the first word spoken since the day of destruction when all human tongues had been silenced.

'No!' he cried angrily. And that was all he said.

A deep silence filled the chamber as his comrades cowered back in disbelief. The he-wolf slipped out silently---grateful, but puzzled as to why he had been spared.

Regaining their senses, the hill-people's astonishment was quickly turned to anger and resentment. For many months they had grown wary, and suspicious of the young, tawny-haired hunter. They could not understand how this youth could be born of their own flesh, and yet still be so completely unlike them. For the color of HIS hair was light, and his eyes were a deep blue. And what of his peculiar desire to be on his own? Unlike the others he did not seem to need the protection of the clan, nor sometimes even to want it.

It was Barabbas who confronted him first. Speaking through primitive sign language, he told Kalus he was angry that he fed and protected the intruder, and that if he wished to remain among them, he would have to come to accept the ways of his people. Shaking his spear menacingly, he added a final note of warning to his primitive demands.

To the end of his days Kalus would not understand what was about to happen next. But in that moment of high emotion, it was as if something in the true nature of his comrades had been revealed to him for the first time. The darkness and evil of their merciless aggression now repulsed and infuriated him, as if some grotesque and twisted visage.

Bitter, roused beyond words, he let out a cry and leapt wildly toward the brutal hill-man.

Surprised but not defenseless, Barabbas met the attack head on. Whirling his weapon with savage skill, he struck Kalus square in the face with the b.u.t.t of his spear. Stunned, Kalus fell to the ground, and before he could move, found the point of Barabbas' spear held threateningly only inches from his throat.

And so, as quickly as it started, the battle was ended. Though a stern and forceful leader, Barabbas was not without compa.s.sion. Combining sign language with angry, animal grunts and gestures, he told Kalus he must now leave the tribe and never return. For by questioning the authority of its leader he had committed the one act of disloyalty that could never be forgiven. The other males huddled silently behind him, adding their mute support.

It was only then that Kalus realized the full significance of what he had done. Though Neanderthal and ape-like, the hill-people were the only family he had ever known. Looking to the back of the cave he saw his mother whimpering softly in dismay, and the other women clutching tightly to their children, as if uncertain as to what it all meant.

Searching the faces of the men, he found sympathy but not forgiveness.

He had been banished, and knew he could never return.

Utterly confused and dejected, he turned and walked slowly through the opening and down the shallow, sandy incline which led to the gra.s.slands below. Looking back one final time, he felt a warm tear trickle bitterly down his reddened cheek. For he knew that his destiny had been changed forever, and that life could never again be the way it was before.

Chapter 2

Truly alone for the first time in his life, Kalus wandered aimlessly, trying to put back the pieces of all that had happened, and think of the things he must now do to survive. Though rarely forced to do it, he knew he was capable of hunting on his own.

But hunger was not the real danger. The valley in which he lived was full of game, but as a result, was also full of predators, many larger and more powerful than himself. He also knew that some were highly specialized killers, and ruthless in their struggle to survive. Most would kill him without hesitation if they thought he had encroached on their hard fought, territorial boundaries.

His mind filled with such thoughts, he was easily startled by the sound of padded footfalls behind him. Whirling about he saw that it was only Akar, and that this time there was no danger. His belly glutted with the fresh meat of a recent kill, he now followed the man-beast more out of curiosity than anything else. He was deeply puzzled by the presence of a lone cave-dweller, and even more so when he discovered it was the same creature who had saved his life only hours before.

For Akar, unlike his primitive ancestors, was a being capable of rational thought. And though resembling in appearance the gray wolves of northern Canada, that was where the similarity ended. Although unable to formulate intricate patterns of thought, the wolves of the Valley had long since existed in well-defined clans, not unlike the wolves of Kipling or Tolkien. The two studied each other a moment in silence.

Then suddenly both man and beast stiffened, simultaneously aware they were no longer alone. Kalus' sensitive hearing had detected the hissing breath of a nearby predator, while Akar's keen nose (he heard the breathing as well) now caught the thick and unmistakable scent of a Commodore. Not wishing to remain and discover its source, the wolf darted quickly away, leaving the man-child alone with his fears.

As the rasping hiss grew louder and nearer, Kalus headed instinctively for higher ground. Trapped among the shadows of a narrow canyon he was unable to see his pursuer, but knew from the sounds of shuffling stone that it was gaining on him rapidly. Moving to the craggy bluff upon his right he began to climb, hoping his enemy would be unable do the same.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. Emerging from the darkness the nightmare took a shape. Raising itself stiff and hunchbacked to the top of a ma.s.sive, sunlit boulder, it took flesh as an enormous reptilian carnivore, like a tiny lizard slowed, and swelled to immense proportions. Throwback to the rock-climbing monsters of an age long forgotten, it moved among the lesser stones with terrifying grace.

Desperate beyond words, Kalus began searching wildly for shelter.

His efforts were not in vain. Coming to a crumpled shelf jutting out of the rockface, he spied a small opening just ahead and to his right, and with the giant reptile just a few short yards behind, rushed headlong and breathless into the welcome shadows of a small cave.

But the danger was not yet pa.s.sed. Though unable to fit the whole of its body into the small enclosure, the lizard was not so easily defeated. Forcing its head into the mouth of the cave it shot forth a long, snake-like tongue, hoping to catch the man-beast as a frog might capture a fly. After several narrow misses, Kalus realized that his only hope was to delve deeper into the ever-increasing darkness of the cave. His eyes not yet accustomed to the failing light he moved cautiously, not wishing to exchange the present danger for that of a blind fall. Feeling his way slowly along the grainy, lichen-covered walls, he tried to be certain of each advancing step.

But in spite of all his caution he slipped, and found himself plummeting downward through illusory darkness, a silent scream ringing in his ears.

Seconds later he landed abruptly. His last thoughts before losing consciousness were that something must have broken his fall. For he had dropped a considerable distance through the blackness of an underground shaft, and knew that by all reason he should have been killed.

Hours pa.s.sed, as the Mantooth's subconscious struggled to keep him alive. A severe blow to the back of the head had brought him to the point of death, and only sheer desire and a tireless will to survive could save him now. Such was a daily occurrence in the Valley---nature's way of separating the weak from the strong.

But Kalus had always lived up to such trials in the past, and this was to be no exception. Fighting his way back to consciousness, he opened his eyes to find himself lying on his back in a bed of cool moss covered with furs, his wounds being treated by the soothing hands of a woman-child. Raising himself weakly, he turned as if in a dream to look upon the face of his redeemer.