The Mantooth

  'There must be something more to life,' he said, on the thirteenthnight since their arrival. They sat before a driftwood fire in thesand, protected from the wind by the high north wall, a short distancefrom their cave. With the stars above and the soft murmur of the wavesbefore them, there was peace and sadness enough in his heart to speak ofit, and to admit the vague emptiness he found so hard and painful toexpress. For he knew that she felt an emptiness, too.

  'All the birth and dying,' he continued, 'The endless strugglejust to survive, and to create new beings to struggle and die when youare gone. It is very hard for me to say this, Sylviana, but there aretimes when I think Nature is very cruel, and I can see no wisdom inliving only by her laws.'

  'But aren't you the one who's always saying that the societiesof men must have failed because they had forgotten the simple goodnessof Nature, ?primal virtue' and all of that? That society hadoverridden the subtle ways of the Tao, creating its own, alternativeorder in which Man's will alone was powerful? That there were nonatural, softening influences to prevent man's ignorance andviolence?' Her words seemed mockery, but there was a reason for them.She was trying to draw him to the heart of the matter, which could bedifficult when he became thoughtful and began to withdraw.

  'You know I've said these things, and you know I still believethem. But why couldn't men do both: raise themselves above theendless struggle, and still have the thought and compassion to put awaywar and racial hatred, to feed and clothe and give medicine to those whoneed it? Why does it have to be one or the other?' There was noanswer to such a question. Impatiently, she stirred the fire with astick.

  'Aren't you really trying to tell me that you've decided tovisit the island at all costs, and that you're afraid of what youmight find there?'

  'Yes,' he replied dourly, confused.

  'Why are you so threatened by the Children? From everythingyou've told me, they sound even more primitive than thehill-people.' For a moment his eyes flashed, but he knew she meant noinsult.

  'Because I think there could be some other colony on the Island aswell.' Her eyes became suddenly large, and she turned toward himintently. He continued reluctantly.

  'I told you I've seen the smoke of campfires, and as many astwelve riders at once making toward the island at sunset. But I'vealso seen other lights, bright and unnatural, and broad beams that splitthe night..... I don't know what they mean.'

  As she heard this her heart beat suddenly faster. It was all toofantastic. Old voices and dreams that she had thought dead and in thepast, surged recklessly to life inside her.

  'We've got to go there! We've got to find out.'

  'Yes.' He paused, watching her intently in his turn. 'I'msorry I couldn't tell you all at once. It was a lot to thinkabout.'

  'I understand.' She got up and began to pace restlessly, breathingtoo deep, unable to control it. 'Oh, Kalus, I feel as if I'mgoing to burst.'

  'I'll be there with you.'

  'Yes. YES.' Like a child she ran and wrapped her arms about him.

  But later that night, unable to sleep and watching his familiar formbeside her in the darkness, she was dismayed by a strange voice thattold her she wished she was going alone. Even as he had said, she beganto wonder how deep, how true, how honest was their love? And for thefirst time in many months she felt the terrible uncertainty of thedreamer who has wrapped all hope and affection about the shoulders of asingle lover.

  IS THIS THE MAN I WANT TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH? And as muchas she wanted to say yes, she couldn't. Because she didn't know.

  *

  In the chill hour of dawn Kalus woke, and in turn looked upon thesleeping figure into whom he had poured his life's blood. To see herlying there beside him, breathing evenly, her face warm and softenedlike a child's, was all that he had ever asked, or ever could ask, ofthe Nameless. His love for her in that moment, when he knew, or feared,that her loyalty to him would soon be put to its severest test, wasalmost unbearable. Thoughts of a life without her he could not begin toface, and he, too, felt a moment of doubt.

  'Sometimes if you love someone, you have to let them go.' Shehadn't meant the words then, but what if now..... If their lovecould not stand, in the bright and hard light of day, then the effortsof a lifetime were in vain. For if she, who knew him to the depths ofhis being---his trials and broken dreams, his personal weakness andindomitable strength---if she found in him nothing to love and cherishand hold on to, then who in all the cold, lonely world ever would?

  If he had known the full quotation, or she the effect its partialphrasing would have on him, perhaps they could have talked it out, andboth found in these simple but profound words some solace:

  'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it isyours. If it does not, it never was.'

  And if, in that moment he had woken her, perhaps she would have seen inhis eyes a depth of love that put aside all questions, and in thereturning echo of her heart, sealed their bond forever. But he did notwake her, because he was afraid. And she never told him the full quote,because like so many of life's precious and irretrievable moments, itwas gone forever.

  He couldn't cage her, and he knew it. She couldn't love him fullywithout knowing. So be it.

  So it was.

  Chapter 34

  It had been decided that they should build a boat. The only questionsleft to them were what kind of vessel it should be, and whether to castoff directly from the cove, or to build the craft some distance upstreamalong the banks of the Broad River, and follow its currents through thedelta which then spilled to either side of the Island.

  Two considerations made Kalus choose the latter course. First there wasthe problem of acquiring the wood. There were no trees of substancewithin a mile of their rock-bound haven, and no way of transporting thefarther wood here. Second, neither he nor the girl had sufficientexperience in ship-building to put an adequate vessel to sea, andperform the long, slow tack against both wind and current, northward.And though building the craft upstream meant exposure to the returningland animals, this danger, at least, he understood and could in somemeasure anticipate. For he knew without being told that only a fooltakes to the sea unprepared.

  So for the first long days, until Kalus understood well enough tocontinue on his own, they made the journey together to the riversideclearing where he had cut a single trunk of elm. Eighteen feet long, itwould be halved and hollowed out, later to be lashed together into asturdy, double canoe. James Michener had described such a boat in histales of Hawaii, and Sylviana had never forgotten. Nor had she dreamedin those easy, carefree days at Ithaca College that she would one day bedrawing her very existence from the precious knowledge such men passedon.

  'Great fullness seems empty, yet it can never be exhausted.' SoLao Tsu had said, and more and more in these uncertain days he wasproving the most trustworthy guide. Her life had become like a preciousring dropped into a shallow stream: the thrashing of her hands onlymuddied the waters, and made it impossible to find. Let the stream flowand cleanse, let the sediments sink back. Then, and only then, couldshe see what lay at the bottom.

  But if Sylviana felt the need and desire to surrender, Kalus experienceda vastly different emotion: raw and intolerable frustration. He couldnot understand why Nature seemed to resist him at every turn, in anendeavor which he knew must be put forward and carried out. And theconditions in which he was expected to pull off this miracle wereappalling. He had neither saw nor plane nor adze, every day the threatfrom the returning animals grew, and yet somehow he must construct aboat in which to trust the very lives of those he loved.

  Each morning he would rise, his back aching from the previous day'slabor, and make the five mile journey across rock and open land to thesmall clearing, there to struggle and shape until the sun began to set.Then the journey back, to a place he could hardly think of as home, anda life which began to seem more and more alien, without the roots of hispast. The girl massaged him, encouraged him.
But since the night ofhis full disclosure a subtle wedge had been driven between them,intensified by Kalus' need to concentrate all his energies onpersonal safety and construction of the craft.

  It reminded her at times of the way he had spent himself in constructingthe barrier to the Mantis' cave, and its later effect on him. Butshe kept this to herself, knowing that previous labor had been essentialas well, and completed not a day too soon. Hidden fires drove him, andif they tended to turn him in upon himself there was little she could,or possibly should do to change it. He became once more an enigma toher, and at times it seemed they met at nightfall like loyal strangers,cast upon a desert island and enjoined, of necessity, to live and work,and carry out disparate dreams of love, together. It was a coldmetaphor, perhaps, but there was no denying it. He had been to her,literally, the last man on Earth. And she to him? The fact that hetruly loved her, and would have if given the choice of thousands, hecould not tell her, and she didn't ask. His love was primal,unquestioned. And though she too had felt these pure, gut-levelurgings, she was reluctant to be bound by them, when there were so manyother things to consider. And to look at it from every possible angledidn't help. The questions only brought more questions. Only time,and trial, would tell.

  In the end Kalus' will proved stronger than the knotted wood and lackof tools. The boat was finished and rigged, and the moment was at hand.They waited for a day when the winds were not contrary, then set outtogether for the clearing, the vessel, and the mystery that lay beyond.

  Chapter 35

  The double prow of the canoe floated gently in the swirling backwater ofthe launch, its stern still bound by gravity to the sloping earth of thebank behind. The supplies (what there were of them) had been loaded,and the make-shift sail unfurled from the high, horizontal yard. Therein the shelter of trees, and running parallel to the wind, it rockedgently against the mast as the newly tied ends waved fitfully, showingevery sign of readiness.

  But Kalus, looking out upon the wide, sweeping waters and thinking ofthe still greater pool beyond, could not bring himself to force thevessel farther. His emotions were running much too high, and the fearof the unknown wrapped about him so thickly that he could not shake offits clinging dread and despair. And despite the presence of the girland the cub, he felt as small and helpless and alone as he ever had.Courage alone would not forge this crossing. He needed guidance aswell.

  And in this he showed not cowardice, but wisdom. For we are all at themercy of winds and currents we cannot always see or understand, andthose who strut about pretending to be in firm control, are usually insuch control all the way past the maw of death, and into the belly ofunmaking.

  'Sylviana,' he said finally. 'It may be foolish..... I wouldlike to say a prayer first.'

  She was surprised by the request, but in no way opposed. She felt muchthe same uncertainty. So without kneeling or folding hands, whosegestures he had never learned, he bowed his head and spoke in deepestearnest.

  'Nameless God. Perhaps you cannot hear me, or perhaps you laugh at myweakness. I do not wish to ask you this. But I am just a small andsimple man; I cannot control all things. The waters into which I lowerthis boat seem cold to me, and I am afraid. Please, if you care and canhear me, bring us safely to the Island.'

  He paused, and for the first time in many days the woman was intentlyaware of his existence. His eyes closed hard and his hands foldedtogether unknowingly. This was coming from the heart.

  'I do not wish to die,' he continued. 'But if one of us mustdie. . then let it be me. For I could not live without my Sylviana.She is my life.' He choked back wretched tears until he felt a softpressure against him, and sweet arms enfolding his gnarled head andscarred shoulders.

  'Don't,' she said gently, reproaching herself for her coldness.'I'm here with you. I'm with you.'

  But to her surprise he did not return this overture. Instead he steppedback, shook his head severely, and said to her. 'I thank you,Sylviana. And I am sorry for this moment of weakness when I must bestrong. But whatever you feel for me, it must not be pity.'

  'I only thought---'

  'No. Not now. The passage we are about to make is perilous, and wemust put all our thought and effort into it. There will be time foremotions later. There is no other way. Are you prepared?'

  .. 'Yes.' He moved away from her and lifted the balking cub,placing her in the left-hand shell, where the woman would ride. 'Wemust be off.'

  Without further speech they pushed the craft the remaining distance,then clambered in to take up their positions near the back of theparallel hulls, there both to paddle and steer, using only the awkward,bladed shafts that he had made.

  *

  Almost at once Kalus perceived the most serious flaw of hisconstruction. The vessel was too heavy. As soon as they left thedreamy backwater he knew it. The catamaran-like craft responded to thecurrent, and as the sail slowly filled, to the wind as well. But itoften moved (or failed to move) with a will of its own. The strokes oftheir paddles, and even with the girl joining him for a time in theright-hand shell, were barely enough to move them a safe distance fromthe shore. A less auspicious beginning was hard to imagine.

  And the boat was horribly slow to tack, or even move to counter thewind. This concerned Kalus more than anything. For at the meeting ofthe Broad River and the River of the North---in the wide water-tract ofthe delta---the southward flow of the latter would try to carry themaway from their destination, and out into the open sea. He had cut thehulls as sharply as possible in lieu of a keel, and even leaned themslightly outward at the girl's suggestion. But rudderless, keelless,this was not enough. The best he could manage with the now deployedsteering oar was a straight line eastward, by precious yards slowlygaining the center of the stream. How he would hold it at the meetingof the two rivers and the open sea he could not imagine, though heexhausted his mind in trying. His fear and sense of helplessness grewwith each passing moment.

  Strange to say, Sylviana's impressions at this early stage of theirjourney were nearly the opposite. To her the waters had a soothing,almost hypnotic effect. Kalus had not told her the possiblecomplications of the voyage, being uncertain himself; and for reasonsall her own she felt a naive (and perhaps misguided) assurance that allwould be well. The river was broad and quiet and tranquil. The sunshone bright in an open sky lightly touched with cirrus, and a greatadventure was at hand. Everything was so wide open and free: alive,still young, and in the future. The world of her past seemed to slipbehind with the running coast, so easily, leaving hardly a trace ofmemory. But for the presence of Kalus and the pup, she would almosthave believed all the tribulations of the War and the Valley to havebeen nothing more than a bad dream, from which she was finally waking.

  But the sight of Kalus brought her back: the look of worriedconsternation, his desperate struggle as he wrestled with the steeringoar. She watched him for a time, unwilling, and it all came back.

  Only once, on the first day she hunted with him, had she witnessed thiskind of ruthless determination, and through it, felt the harshness ofthe world that had shaped such creatures: what he had called the hungry,haunted look of a predator. So severe were his efforts, so whollysingle-minded, that despite her resolve to face the crossing bravely,his unspoken fears began to rub off on her. And the rising walls toeither side of them, the quickening current they now entered, turned theworld ominous and forbidding once more. Almost she resented him for it,as if his actions had somehow changed the very nature of the stream.

  As for Kalus, he had said his prayer, and now set out with every weaponat his disposal to make it unnecessary. Self-reliance remained thegolden rule of his existence, and he knew that all their lives were inhis hands. The hands of the Nameless, if they existed at all, were athing beyond his (or any man's) control.

  But there was no more time for such thoughts. The Broad River was broadno longer, its shore no longer peaceful and forested. Great cliffs roseup on their right, th
e last reaches of the granite ridge. To the norththe gray rock was not as steep, but its effect on the river was thesame. All its wide and lazy waters now issued with great force througha deep, narrow channel scarcely sixty yards wide, falling nearly twicethat distance in less than a mile. The result was a horrific,white-water chute, now drawing them swiftly to itself. Kalus' harshvoice cut through the growing roar.

  'Tie down the cub,' he commanded, 'And then yourself. Takesolid hold of the paddle; we've got to keep the boat runningstraight. And for anything short of death, DON'T LET GO OF THE PADDLE.Now!'

  Half stunned, hardly knowing where she was, Sylviana obeyed him. Shemade the whimpering pup lie down, and bound her securely. Then withshaking hands she tied the waist-rope about herself. She straightenedand took hold of the shaft, both knuckles and face turning coldly white.She glimpsed at Kalus, who nodded gravely. This danger they bothunderstood.

  Several times through the roar and spray of their passage, the boattried to whip about and dash itself against the rocks, or turn sidewaysto be rolled and lost. But each time, one of the rowers would pullforward with desperate strength while the other steered or slapped backat the water till the blade finally dug in against the fume: straightahead, blocking out the screaming fear, determined.