The Mantooth Part 51

'KALUS!'

>From a distance of three hundred yards he heard her. Instantly his senses were trained upon the spot and he was running, leaving the startled cub far behind. The broken, undulating ridges kept her from his sight, and tried to impede him. But he did not need to hear the sound twice to locate it, or force his hammering body to respond.

And by the time he reached the final crest, his anger had turned to a rage that bordered on madness that ANYONE, EVER, would DARE to attack his woman. All his pain and frustration now found release in thoughts, soon to be acts, of violence. The sight of them struggling, of William again throwing her down and glowering over her, knife in hand, undid the last thin strands of mercy and restraint. He all but flew down the hill, and from atop the same mound of slag, leapt out like a panther with a savage cry.

An instant later their bodies crashed together, as Sylviana crawled back against the shelter of broken stone, drawing her torn blouse shut against the maelstrom.

William was stunned, the knife sent flying from his hand. For all the hardships of his life, he had never before faced the merciless onslaught of an animal defending its own. Blows rained upon like a landslide, and he knew that his death was at hand. He backed away in desperation, crawling on his elbows, pushing with his legs.

But Kalus was already on his feet, the sword seething from its scabbard.

He lofted it high above his head, both hands hard on the hilt, as his eyes chose the place that he would strike, a thundering blow to cut his enemy in two.

But then time stood still.

Time stood still.

Kalus looked into the face of the man he was prepared to kill. A hideous change had come over it. His heart wrenched inside him, and the blow never fell. Sylviana gasped as well, and struggled for the breath to plead mercy. But there was no need, as both finally understood the words of the Spirit.

There before him, where a human form had been, lay the contorted figure of a demon, a face twisted and insane. A man possessed. But not by some Bible-black devil, or mythological spirit of Evil. By the more real, the more horrible.

The demon, the reality, of Fear.

Slowly Kalus lowered his sword, sick with pity and remorse, as Sylviana hid her face against the stone.

More slowly still, some semblance of its original shape returned to the red terror of William's face. And as terrible to him as his own countenance had been to Kalus, were the words that his enemy now spoke, who should have killed him.

'Forgive me,' said the man-child sorrowfully. 'I didn't understand.'

As if struck by a hammer, William fell back. Something inside him tried to laugh, but was drowned instead by anguished tears, and a groan of pain that twisted his soul like a rag. The terrible voice continued as the cub, knowing nothing yet of hatred and violence, but only an instinctive compa.s.sion, came closer and licked his face.

'I knew only that you had lost your woman. I did not know how deeply you loved her, or what it had done to you..... We will leave you now, because you need to be alone.'

Then Kalus drew a breath, remembering hard reality.

'It is only possible for a natural man to forgive, when his enemy can no longer hurt those entrusted to his care. I cannot let you close to my loved ones, and if you ever again try to hurt them, I will kill you without pity or remorse. But I see now your pain and sickness, and I will ask the others to help you if they can.'

And the fallen man hid his face in shame.

Sylviana, who had risen, moved now toward her beloved mate. She stood beside him, looking down, silently begging forgiveness. But his touch, the way his arms enfolder her, told her there was no need, said everything that must be said. Three words only remained, and she spoke them with all her heart.

'I love you.'

Chapter 48

Together the weary lovers walked across the wounded landscape to the sea. Reaching its margins, Kalus drew out the remaining peyote b.u.t.tons.

The two exchanged glances, and both understood.

'You have been both a teacher and a killer,' he said. 'But I have no further need of you, nor would I ask another to follow down your dark and treacherous path.' And he threw them into the sea. Then together they knelt in the cool and cleansing waters, and washed the sins from their hands.

Then returning to the narrow stretch of sand, the woman-child lay back.

She lay very still, and listened to the stories told by the waves, touching them all, and hiding from none. Until all that remained was the sun behind, the sea before, and the man she loved beside her. She stood up and embraced him, and her soul was restored to her.

And together they returned slowly to the colony, as Alaska strode beside them, thinking of Akar, and of the wild woods of youth. As Avatar ran free, and the unborn life inside Kataya continued to grow.

And so one chapter ended, even as another began, as it always has been, and always will be. The only question left before a man, as before Man himself:

Will he be a part of that tale?

The End