Clutching the small, swaying branch, the uk chattered angrily at the man who had invaded its territory. Safely near its sheltered home, a hole high in a fork of the gigantic tree, the uk bared its teeth in a ferocious grimace, seemingly prepared to leap forth to do battle, but never quite leaving the safety of its perch, as it regarded the man who reclined lazily in a nearby perch, his body comfortably secure in a hollow formed by the forking of several large branches.
Luxuriously the man stretched his supple frame, watching the uk with amused green eyes, as strands of his blond hair drifted softly in the breeze, shining in the filtered sunlight which penetrated the treetops.
Tarak had chosen for his sleeping place a natural fork high in one of the great trees of the valley. An natural platform had been created there by the simultaneous forking of several branches. Such platforms were common in the treetops, and Tarak had discovered them to be ideal platforms in which to spend his nights, safe from most of the carnivores which hunted below, in the blackness of the forest night.
Some carnivores hunted in the trees, but the largest, and therefore most dangerous, were wedded to the earth by virtue of their great size.
Tarak has spent long periods of time in trees during his boyhood and later years, and was quite at home above the ground, although the giants in which he now perched were far different from the small trees Gonor had introduced into the arena, none of which had exceeded forty feet in height.
The fork in which he now reclined was more than three hundred and fifty feet above the floor of the forest, and the tree stretched at least another hundred feet above him. Tarak had discovered that he could travel through the trees quite rapidly, because of the dense profusion of interwoven branches and vines, which were so thick in places that they formed a series of pathways, at various levels above the ground, and he tended to utilize these pathways, rather than traveling along the ground, for they were generally free of predators, and provided him with an exhilarating sensation of freedom and challenge.
Life had been one tremendous, joyous adventure for the blond giant since his escape from Gonor's cliff fortress. His pursuers had made only a futile, half-hearted attempt to chase him, for he was of little further use or value to them, and they had in addition realized that he was a formidable opponent, as evidenced by the slain wrok and dyrrn, which lay near the base of the cliff.
Small groups of wroks had periodically hunted within the forest, but Tarak's senses, trained and developed through a lifetime of battling for survival, inevitably provided ample warning, and he had always avoided being seen by the creatures.
He watched the wroks, and noted that they too moved through the trees. Though they moved slowly, they traveled with confidence and ease, aided by their long arms and grasping feet. Tarak surmised that wroks might be formidable foes in this habitat, perhaps more so than on the ground, so he practiced moving through this aerial world, living, moving, and hunting far above the floor of the forest.
His own confidence increased as his skills sharpened, and he felt he would be at no disadvantage should he encounter one or more of the beasts in the trees. He also knew that if his chances in battle appear unfavorable, his superior speed would enable him to easily elude the slower wroks.
Such confidence and skill would never have been possible to a more civilized man, now matter how athletic. Tarak's aptitude for such physical acts was enormous, and his balance, strength, reflexes, and speed were superb, largely because of the unique maturation process to which he had been exposed. He had acquired talents and skills, and perfected them, throughout his life, in situations which had been designed specifically to accomplish this result. Good fortune and a combination of mind and body which had enabled him to adapt to that life had molded him into a being of unique and incomparable prowess.
He had no means to measure his abilities against those of other men, even had he wished to do so. His confidence was internal, measured against years of bitter survival against enormous odds.
Death had been a constant, continual companion. Tarak had killed thousands of creatures, and had been injured and near death on dozens of occasions. Fear of death, or of injury, was a weakness which did not much occupy his thoughts. He had a supreme sense of his own capabilities, and a realistic appreciation of his limitations. He knew he would die when he was forced to battle an enemy deadlier than himself, and could not escape. Such a death had been the fate of each creature he had fought in the arena, and many times he had only barely survived, himself. He was familiar with many of the beasts which roamed this world, for some he had fought, and others he had learned of through Amina's teachings, and the books she had stolen for him to read.
Many creatures existed which were much more powerful than himself, and many others traveled in packs, whose combined ferocity was unstoppable. He knew that to battle such creatures was to die, and he would try to avoid such encounters, as he had thus far avoided them. Eventually he would find himself in a situation from which he would not survive, but the thought did not concern him any more than it concerned the other savage denizens of Aantor. He would try always to survive, and spend his time enjoying life, rather than contemplating its ultimate demise.
Three months had elapsed since his escape, and he had roamed the valley, traveling its pathways on the ground and in the trees. Swimming the river and tributary streams, and exploring the varied terrain with unquenchable curiosity, he had become aware of each facet of life within the valley, and the valley became as familiar to him as if he had always resided within its forests.
He learned the animals, the fish, the myriad vegetative growth, and the variety of terrain which the valley exhibited in its various locations. The weather greatly intrigued him, and the patterns of life which changed with the rise of the sun, and the fall of the night.
Tarak loved this valley for its beauty, and for the vast space it represented. He could run for miles without turning aside upon a new course, and he experienced endless delight in leaping through the branches of the tremendous trees, or swaying high upon an upper limb, and surveying the quiet beauty of his new home. The valley was so bountiful that an enormous variety of food was available, and he found that his years of survival had prepared him admirably for the tasks necessary for the procurement of food.
Especially he was fascinated with the weapons he had taken from the wroks. Often he had improvised clubs and wooden spears from branches during his long years in the arena, but never had he been permitted possession or use of a man-made weapon. Now he possessed a long sword, two knives, a heavy bow and a quiver of arrows, as well as a length of rope and the harness from which the weapons were hung.
He had sensed the lethal possibilities of the knife immediately, and had already killed three wroks and a dyrrn with the weapon, whose blade increased immeasurably the power of he who wielded it. Relatively light and easily carried, the knife was one weapon he would henceforth carry always, and he practiced with it endlessly, throwing it again and again until he had achieved superb and deadly accuracy.
The efficacy of the sword eluded him, for while it was obviously a formidable weapon, it was too large to permit complete freedom of movement when carried, and was too long and heavy to throw with any degree of control. As a defensive weapon it seemed useful, for wielded by a powerful man it would strike a lethal blow to even large beasts, but only a fool would stand and fight if attacked by such beasts, and Tarak doubted if he would find much use for the weapon.
He kept it anyway, but generally cached it high in the trees, preserved for future use should he require it.
The bow was a weapon which, like the knife, lent immeasurable strength to its user, and in many ways its value exceeded even that of the knife. Here was a weapon which could be used with devastating results, on even the most savage of beasts, without subjecting its owner to any appreciable danger. Tarak knew that while he possessed it he would never have to labor for food, and would be able to withstand an assault of several assailants. He practiced with it daily, and learned to fashion arrows to replace those which were damaged or lost.
Within a pouch fastened to the wrok's harness he discovered a score of metal tips for the arrows, and an abrasive stone which after some experimentation he deduced was useful for sharpening the arrow tips and other weapons. He wore only the belt portion of the wrok's harness, with the pouch and knife sheath attached. The rest of the harness he cached with the sword.
Like the sword, the bow was unwieldy. It restricted movement when strapped across his back, and tended to become tangled in passing branches, and except when practicing he rarely carried it.
The bow forced another realization into his consciousness, for its potential as an offensive weapon made Tarak realize how defenseless he himself would be against such a weapon, in the hands of an enemy who could shoot it accurately.
Caught in the open, without shelter, he would be completely vulnerable to such a foe, and neither his speed nor his strength would enable him to evade a speeding shaft loosed by a practiced marksman at close range. He thus gained a new appreciation of the application of man's intelligence, and of its ability to harness forces capable of dealing death to even the most savage beasts.
Tarak had learned to fight as a beast, and his appreciation of fighting skills, his and those of the creatures he had killed, had never been subject to such variables. Savagery, speed, strength, and unfailing drives to kill and to survive were the factors which determined life and death in encounters between wild beasts.
A small, cowardly antagonist, slow and weak, but armed with a bow and arrows, however, might lie in the shadows and strike him from a distance, killing him without any chance to defend himself.
With his growing understanding of this weapon came an increased understanding of man, and his relationship to the world. His dominance rested upon the strength of his mind, and traditional powers were supplanted by this unique factor. Tarak understood more than ever how superior was his species in this world, and how vulnerable might any man be, no matter how strong or savage, when confronted by others of his kind.
This weapon, the bow which could kill from a distance, brought this principle into focus for a man who had survived only by savage, primal battle. It provided him with an increased appreciation of his own abilities, yet at the same time an increased awareness of his limitations.
He did not kill wantonly, and the weapons did not alter his basic pattern of survival. He loved the challenge of pitting his skill against the other forms of life in the valley, matching his speed, strength and cunning against theirs. He used the knife often, since with it he could kill quickly, and could dress his kill with speed and efficiency. He hunted birds with the bow, for he had learned of their flavor, and could catch most of them in no other manner.
Always he killed only for food, for since he could easily escape the beasts who hunted him, he had no need to fight. His world was generally peaceful, and beasts which had attacked him in the arena now ignored his presence. They killed for food, and in self-defense, and again Tarak realized the cruel perversions Gonor had wrought in these noble creatures through brutal treatment and starvation.
Many Aantorian beasts were possessed of surly dispositions, but rarely did they plan and execute an attack simply to cause suffering, and Tarak reflected upon the differences between these beasts and some of the more intelligent but potentially far more savage species of which he was a member.
He learned a great deal about the valley's flora and fauna, and examining them from a perspective gained through countless battles, his knowledge of the creatures which dwelled in his world in some respects surpassed even that of Gonor. He was continually fascinated by new experiences, and his keen mind and fertile imagination were stimulated to new speculations and increased examinations of this world.
How strange that men would shut themselves up in cliffside fortresses, or in cities such as Amina had described, when the world of the open sky and the endless trees was so beautiful.
As he lay upon his lofty perch, high in his wondrous world, he raised one eyelid and directed his gaze upon the chattering uk. So long ago one of its cousins had leaped for his throat deep within the bowels of the fortress in the cliff.
Then Tarak had been a small child, and the uk had been goaded into desperate savagery through starvation and abuse, so that its prey had become a small boy rather than its customary diet of smaller animals, birds, and insects. Tarak smiled, for the uk which now chattered so malevolently did not seem quite so brave.
"Do not fear, small killer," he said, stretching his muscles in the dappled sunlight. "Tarak will leave your home in peace." He leaped nimbly to his feet, and began to climb swiftly toward the treetops, there to look out upon the forest in the morning light.
From his lofty perch he could see the entire valley, for this tree was one of the highest. He scanned the treetops and the cloudless sky, admiring the beauty and clarity of the valley which had been his home these recent months. As he swayed in the morning breeze, however, he thought of the world which Amena had described; of the cities, and the large populations of people who lived in them.
Gonor's library had contained little relating to that civilized world, but Amena had never tired of describing her former world to the child, as if, perhaps, she could relive her life through her stories.
Tarak had been greatly impressed with her tales, and was filled with desires to see such places, and to meet other men. Amena had explained that most men, while not without faults, were not like Gonor and Brona; that most men valued life and freedom, for themselves and for others.
Tarak longed to meet these men, to converse with them, and to see their cities. For some time he had been considering leaving the valley, although he had no idea which direction to travel, should he leave.
Amena had told him that the mountains stretched for many miles in every direction around the valley, but that it was possible to traverse them, for she had heard Gonor speak of his initial journey into the valley so many years ago.
Tarak hated to leave his new home, which had given him so much during his first months of freedom, but he longed for adventure, and had been attempting to discern the easiest pathway by which to exit the valley. Ultimately he had decided upon a westward path, with the sun at his back for the greater part of the day, so he would have only to follow his shadow to keep a straight course, and would not have the sun in his eyes until late in the afternoon.
He did not know that this direction would lead him deeper into the mountains, instead of toward the lands of men, although he had acknowledged the possibility.
It did not overly concern him. To travel was adventure enough, and he would meet what he would meet, as a free man. These were his only thoughts. Tomorrow he would select a path, and he would follow it to wherever it led, and to whatever fate awaited. He was willing to accept the consequences of his actions in this as he had accepted them for his entire young life.
Gathering his weapons, he descended to the ground and made his way to the western end of the valley, where he had discovered a slope which seemed to promise relatively easy climbing. He felt alive and tense with anticipation as he thought of the journey which lay ahead, and he wondered what he would find.
Alone, armed with only the weapons he had stolen from his former captors, he nonetheless felt supremely confident of his ability to survive in the unknown territory which lay ahead.
He had mastered the use of the weapons, with the exception of the sword, which he carried primarily for its defensive possibilities, fastened to the belt which he had fashioned from the wrok's harness, along with one of the two knives.
The bow and quiver of arrows were strapped to his broad back with the wrok's rope, and in his hand he carried a spear which he had made by lashing the second wrok knife to a straight limb he had cut from a sapling. His other arm was free.
Tarak had been alone his entire life, except for the companionship of Amena. Always he had fought alone, and so now his solitary state did not bother him, as if might have another. Always he had survived, and now he faced the mountains which loomed so large and dark without fear.
The western slope which he had chosen was a simple climb for one of Tarak's skills, and he scaled it swiftly, reaching the summit well before dark. At its peak he turned and looked for long moments down at his beloved valley, resting his gaze upon places which he had particularly enjoyed, and finally shifting his attention to the far barren cliff which housed his enemies, and which had been his prison for so many years.
For long moments he looked. Then abruptly he shrugged his great shoulders, and turned to pursue his westward course toward the silent hills ahead.
To Chapter Eight