Almuric - Robert E. Howard (trending books to read TXT) 📗
- Author: Robert E. Howard
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when I dared to meet one on even terms, I will never forget the sight
of him frothing and roaring as he charged out of a clump of bushes,
and the awful glare in his manlike eyes. My resolution wavered, but it
was too late to retreat, and I met him squarely, skewering him through
the heart as he closed in with his long clutching arms.
But there were other beasts which frequented the valley, and which I
did not attempt to meet on any terms: the hyenas, the sabertooth
leopards, longer and heavier than an Earthly tiger and more ferocious;
giant mooselike creatures, carnivorous, with alligator-like tusks; the
monstrous bears; gigantic boars, with bristly hair which looked
impervious to a swordcut. There were other monsters, which appeared
only at night, and the details of which I was not able to make out.
These mysterious beasts moved mostly in silence, though some emitted
high-pitched weird wails, or low Earth-shaking rumbles. As the unknown
is most menacing, I had a feeling that these nighted monsters were
even more terrible than the familiar horrors which harried my day-life.
I remember one occasion on which I awoke suddenly and found myself
lying tensely on my ledge, my ears strained to a night suddenly and
breathlessly silent. The moon had set and the valley was veiled in
darkness. Not a chattering baboon, not a yelping hyena disturbed the
sinister stillness. Something was moving through the valley; I heard
the faint rhythmic swishing of the grass that marked the passing of
some huge body, but in the darkness I made out only a dim gigantic
shape, which somehow seemed infinitely longer than it was broad—out
of natural proportion, somehow. It passed away up the valley, and with
its going, it was as if the night audibly expelled a gusty sigh of
relief. The nocturnal noises started up again, and I lay back to sleep
once more with a vague feeling that some grisly horror had passed me
in the night.
I have said that I strove with the baboons over the possession of
the life-giving nuts. What of my own appetite and those of the beasts,
there came a time when I was forced to leave my valley and seek far
afield in search of nutriment. My explorations had become broader and
broader, until I had exhausted the resources of the country close
about. So I set forth at random through the hills in a southerly and
easterly direction. Of my wanderings I will deal briefly. For many
weeks I roamed through the hills, starving, feasting, threatened by
savage beasts sleeping in trees or perilously on tall rocks when night
fell. I fled, I fought, I slew, I suffered wounds. Oh, I can tell you
my life was neither dull nor uneventful.
I was living the life of the most primitive savage; I had neither
companionship, books, clothing, nor any of the things which go to make
up civilization. According to the cultured viewpoint, I should have
been most miserable. I was not. I revelled in my existence. My being
grew and expanded. I tell you, the natural life of mankind is a grim
battle for existence against the forces of nature, and any other form
of life is artificial and without realistic meaning.
My life was not empty; it was crowded with adventures calling on
every ounce of intelligence and physical power. When I swung down from
my chosen eyrie at dawn, I knew that I would see the sun set only
through my personal craft and strength and speed. I came to read the
meaning of every waving grass tuft, each masking bush, each towering
boulder. On every hand lurked Death in a thousand forms. My vigilance
could not be relaxed, even in sleep. When I closed my eyes at night it
was with no assurance that I would open them at dawn. I was fully
alive. That phrase has more meaning than appears on the surface. The
average civilized man is never fully alive; he is burdened with masses
of atrophied tissue and useless matter. Life flickers feebly in him;
his senses are dull and torpid. In developing his intellect he has
sacrificed far more than he realizes.
I realized that I, too, had been partly dead on my native planet.
But now I was alive in every sense of the word; I tingled and burned
and stung with life to the finger tips and the ends of my toes. Every
sinew, vein, and springy bone was vibrant with the dynamic flood of
singing, pulsing, humming life. My time was too much occupied with
food-getting and preserving my skin to allow the developing of the
morbid and intricate complexes and inhibitions which torment the
civilized individual. To those highly complex persons who would
complain that the psychology of such a life is over-simple, I can but
reply that in my life at that time, violent and continual action and
the necessity of action crowded out most of the gropings and
soul-searchings common to those whose safety and daily meals are assured
them by the toil of others. My life was primitively simple; I dwelt
altogether in the present. My life on Earth already seemed like a
dream, dim and far away.
All my life I had held down my instincts, had chained and enthralled
my over-abundant vitalities. Now I was free to hurl all my mental and
physical powers into the untamed struggle for existence, and I knew
such zest and freedom as I had never dreamed of.
In all my wanderings—and since leaving the valley I had covered an
enormous distance—I had seen no sign of humanity, or anything
remotely resembling humanity.
It was the day I glimpsed a vista of rolling grassland beyond the
peaks, that I suddenly encountered a human being. The meeting was
unexpected. As I strode along an upland plateau, thickly grown with
bushes and littered with boulders, I came abruptly on a scene striking
in its primordial significance.
Ahead of me the Earth sloped down to form a shallow bowl, the floor
of which was thickly grown with tall grass, indicating the presence of
a spring. In the midst of this bowl a figure similar to the one I had
encountered on my arrival on Almuric was waging an unequal battle with
a sabertooth leopard. I stared in amazement, for I had not supposed
that any human could stand before the great cat and live.
Always the glittering wheel of a sword shimmered between the monster
and its prey, and blood on the spotted hide showed that the blade had
been fleshed more than once. But it could not last; at any instant I
expected to see the swordsman go down beneath the giant body.
Even with the thought, I was running fleetly down the shallow slope.
I owed nothing to the unknown man, but his valiant battle stirred
newly plumbed depths in my soul. I did not shout but rushed in
silently and murderously, my poniard gleaming in my hand. Even as I
reached them, the great cat sprang, the sword went spinning from the
wielder’s hand, and he went down beneath the hurtling bulk. And almost
simultaneously I disembowled the sabertooth with one tremendous
ripping stroke.
With a scream it lurched off its victim, slashing murderously as I
leaped back, and then it began rolling and tumbling over the grass,
roaring hideously and ripping up the Earth with its frantic talons, in
a ghastly welter of blood and streaming entrails.
It was a sight to sicken the hardiest, and I was glad when the
mangled beast stiffened convulsively and lay still.
I turned to the man, but with little hope of finding life in him. I
had seen the terrible saberlike fangs of the giant carnivore tear into
his throat as he went down.
He was lying in a wide pool of blood, his throat horribly mangled. I
could see the pulsing of the great jugular vein which had been laid
bare, though not severed. One of the huge taloned paws had raked down
his side from arm-pit to hip, and his thigh had been laid open in a
frightful manner; I could see the naked bone, and from the ruptured
veins blood was gushing. Yet to my amazement the man was not only
living, but conscious. Yet even as I looked, his eyes glazed and the
light faded in them.
I tore a strip from his loincloth and made a tourniquet about his
thigh which somewhat slackened the flow of blood; then I looked down
at him helplessly. He was apparently dying, though I knew something of
the stamina and vitality of the wild and its people. And such
evidently this man was; he was as savage and hairy in appearance,
though not quite so bulky, as the man I had fought during my first day
on Almuric.
As I stood there helplessly, something whistled venomously past my
ear and thudded into the slope behind me. I saw a long arrow quivering
there, and a fierce shout reached my ears. Glaring about, I saw half a
dozen hairy men running fleetly toward me, fitting shafts to their
bows as they came.
With an instinctive snarl I bounded up the short slope, the whistle
of the missiles about my head lending wings to my heels. I did not
stop, once I had gained the cover of the bushes surrounding the bowl,
but went straight on, wrathful and disgusted. Evidently men as well as
beasts were hostile on Almuric, and I would do well to avoid them in
the future.
Then I found my anger submerged in a fantastic problem. I had
understood some of the shouts of the men as they rushed toward me. The
words had been in English, just as the antagonist of my first
encounter had spoken and understood that language. In vain I cudgeled
my mind for a solution. I had found that while animate and inanimate
objects on Almuric often closely copied things on Earth, yet there was
almost a striking difference somewhere, in substance, quality, shape
or mode of action. It was preposterous that certain conditions on the
separate planets could run such a perfect parallel as to produce an
identical language. Yet I could not doubt the evidence of my ears.
With a curse I abandoned the problem as too fantastic to waste time
on.
Perhaps it was this incident, perhaps the glimpse of the distant
savannas, which filled me with a restlessness and distaste for the
barren hill country where I had fared so hardily. The sight of men,
strange and alien as they were, stirred in my breast a desire for
human companionship, and this frustrated longing became in turn a
sudden feeling of repulsion for my surroundings. I did not hope to
meet friendly humans on the plains; but I determined to try my chances
upon them, nevertheless, though what perils I might meet there I could
not know. Before I left the hills some whim caused me to scrape from
my face my heavy growth and trim my shaggy hair with my poniard, which
had lost none of its razor edge. Why I did this I cannot say, unless
it was the natural instinct of a man setting forth into new country to
look his “best.”
The next morning I descended into the grassy plains, which swept
eastward and southward as far as sight could reach. I continued
eastward and covered many miles that day, without any unusual
incident. I encountered several small winding rivers, along whose
margins the grass stood taller than my head. Among this grass I heard
the snorting and thrashing of heavy animals of some sort, and gave
them a wide berth—for which caution I was later thankful.
The rivers were thronged in
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