The Raid of Kollanus -Chapter 08

Some few miles to the east of a ruined city once called Nod along what remained of a roadway which now was in the process of reclamation by an angry twist of ground crawling vines and coarse grasses, there came an unsure, almost timid parade of crossbreeds. They seemed to be following a natural route which sliced between twin masses of rocky land, which frowned down in defiance. What little talk went on was in whispers and was almost drowned in the heavy breathing of those unused to such strenuous activity. Once past the forbidding mounds, they somehow took a slight curving direction toward the north and with no way of knowing it, they were following a years old route once followed by Karrovo and his hundreds.

All through the day of their exile and the dark night with the screams of birds and the moaning of spirits they marched until the eastern heavens turned silver, then red. Somehow, with no direction, a few of the younger men began to move on ahead of the massed thousands where they expected to find a horizon full of some sort of terror. Perhaps they expected to see millions of great birds lurking there which would light upon them to pluck out their eyes. Perhaps they would look and see the horror known as the shining death as it shimmered and waivered along the sides of the roadway. Perhaps they would see the angry killing force of the Sons-of-God lurking at the edge of some rock mass. Toward the rear of the column, others looked over their shoulders, expecting the cloud of dust behind them which would be kicked up by evil pursuers.

Somehow the once hated Sons-of-God had quickly changed in the communal psyche and had, again with no discussion or planning, become the greatly feared Sons-of-God. such comments as ” when they fall upon us, what will they do?” “Do you think they will kill us mercifully? ” and “Make no mistake… they know exactly where we are.” were edging up, down and across the moving mass of humanity. The worst part of their lot was the feeling that they were moving along without the benefit of anyone to lead them. Their discomfort and agitation would without doubt have been greatly eased had they any idea that at the very moment, back within the great walls, in the security of Eden itself, guards were casting uneasy looks into the surrounding forest, fearing every furtive shadow, every gentle movement. The history of logical thought on Earth was not truly very old, but within the thinking creature, man, two of his greatest shortcomings, fear and its first cousin, hatred were already widespread and deep-seated. What’s more, the enrichment of the soil for growing those crops, arrogance and prejudice, proved to be present in great abundance. 

Late in the second afternoon, exhaustion began to overcome fear and the fleeing mass slowed. Then came a strong wind out of the west which carried with it, tiny granules of stone which cut and stung, and they were forced to stop to spend a night. Fortunately, they had arrived at a grove of trees and shrubs which lent, a meager measure of shelter. All through the wild night the twisting wind raged through the bushes. It moaned and it shrieked through the darkness and then an hour or two before dawn, it died. Only then did the terrified people know that the shining death had not come upon them and they were able to release the tenseness in their spines enough to permit sleep to come. Dawn had been well spent and the warmth of a bright day had come into being when the exiles at last awoke. Sand had covered their tracks and there was widespread disagreement about the time, the day, even which direction they should move in order to further distance themselves from Eden. It was while they awaited some sign from the sun to indicate which way they were to proceed that the welcome word was passed along that water was found in the center of their grove. There were, in fact, three smallish pools found bubbling up through the soil of their grove and a fourth, much larger than the others was also found. This large pool had also attracted a variety of small desert creatures to its banks. It also happened that many of the trees in the center of the grove bore an narrow line of trees, while a short distance to our left is an even broader river bed which contains no water. “We must move toward the river of water and follow its banks toward the north,” was the report of the spokesman. Refreshed and stocked with smallish stores of meat and fruit as well as skins holding water, they resumed moving, pressing eastward until they  reached the bank of what was later to be known as the mighty Tigris. 

Here they stopped, built a fortress wall taller than any man of sun-baked brick, erected tents of animal hide and vowed to build for themselves a new Eden. Unfortunately, after a week and a day, the bricks had crumbled and despite the abundant supply of water and game and fruits, they decided to move on in search of a better sight for their new Eden. Again search teams departed. 

There were several reports given and the most promising said, “Two large lakes less than ten days journey northward… and while neither of these is pleasant to drink from, both lakes have fish and one of these is fed by a stream of water so sweet that its water tastes like the fruit of the heaven-berry tree. There is on the shore of each lake people who seem only slightly more wealthy than are we… and we have reason to believe that we may be permitted to share the waters with them in peace. ” 

The journey to the great western lake actually required eighteen days because a period of rare, heavy rains arrived, overgorging all streams and this made necessary the construction of a number of rafts. Their route was destined to bring them into contact with a number of other tribes, but none of these was large enough to make trouble for this mighty throng of displaced persons. The Sons-of-Man were already taking on a little of the toughness characterizing all nomadic tribes, coincidentally also developing stills which make it possible to live off the land.

One of the tribes whose path they intersected was, of a slender swarthiness with eyes that were forced into a permanent squint by heavy, extra folds of skin and while they had about them the look of toughness reserved by nature exclusively for the warrior, they seemed especially pleasant and apparently smiled most of the time. Since they were both moving in the same general direction, they agreed to proceed together for a while. They were a happy group, perhaps two hundred strong and had with them a small herd of cattle. From the milk, they made a pleasantly mild cheese and while the Sons-of-Man were complete neophytes to cheese, they quickly developed a taste for it. Also, the small group sang and danced and played tiny clanging bells before the campfire. They stayed with the Sons-of-Man for five days and nights. On the sixth day the light which came from the eastern sky made known that the small tribe had gone without a trace. Unfortunately, also gone was the entire food larder of the former Edenites. The two cows left behind were old, gave almost no milk and by mid-day had been slain for their meat. A day before they arrived within sight of the great western lake, the nomads stopped, sharpened each And every weapon, bathed in an icy stream, ate ~he heavy meal of the day and then set about doing something they all knew had needed doing for some time. They decided that the time had come to choose an overall leader. There really was no great competition for the job. No one seemed to want it. Finally, a stocky crossbred man with almost no sign of a bony ridge above the eyes and a rather high, barely sloping forehead whose name vas Urar-Ovo decided to accept the responsibility. Actually, he had little understanding of what all was entailed here, but Urar-Ovo accepted the position of leadership because he was the great- nephew of another leader, a man of great renown who was still praised around the campfire as the great Karrovo. Urar-Ovo felt that if he too were to achieve greatness, the time was now. 

It had more to do with his abilities as a warrior than as a leader that placed Urar-Ovo in the first of the attacking platoons which descended upon the sleeping north shore village. Before the villagers were fully aware of what was happening the second platoon came in with a wild chorus of shrieks and according to some accounts villagers were doing their best to surrender, but the sons- of man seemed to be enjoying the taste of blood nearly decimating the peaceful villagers. The battle was over almost before it started. When the third platoon arrived, they halted in their tracks; shocked by the devastation. Those few village men who survived later were commissioned to become herdsmen and guides for their conquerors and in time seemed to be almost content. Somehow the two groups remained just that, two distinct and separate groups. According to Tappis-Chi, the toothless old woman who served as a kind of historian for the Sons-of-Man, the villagers and the nomadic tribe were quite dissimilar. “No,” she shook her balding, wrinkled head, “they are not like us… they are more like the ones who lived in the Land of Nod. They are of the old stock before the infusion of the Squarehead seed… which is what changed us to what we are.” 

It seemed difficult to imagine, but so much time had passed since the awful day the one hundred and forty four thousand had been driven out of the gates of Eden that now the ancient Tappis-Chi was the only one left who actually remembered Eden, Omag, and Nod. Apparently the genes in her person had different results than those of her fellows and she had inherited more of the Squarehead longevity than others. None doubted her claim to one hundred four years and in fact, almost a hundred had passed since the tribe was driven out of Eden. Now, in spite of privations, pitched battles, famines and diseases and everything else, the Sons-of-Man tribe had increased in number to more than two hundred thousand.

As for the leadership of Urar-Ovo, it lasted for just a brief time. About a year after the assault on the people ‘ along the north shore, he strode don into their rebuilt village one night. He was searching for young boys, for they were his passion, and was never seen again. Somehow, his name became associated with the lake itself. It was assumed that the lake had swallowed his body and kept it somewhere in its cold darkness. What came to be known as Lake Urar-Ovo was later shortened to Uraro and that name remains to this day. That is to say, the more mystical call it that. The official name is now Lake Van and it is much smaller and saltier than it was in those long ago times. 

Some eighty years after the nomadic conquest of the village, the near- perfect weather there began to change. Clear days there became few and far between. Fingers of ice began forming on the branches of trees, skies more gray than the rocks of the mountains dropped snow everywhere and ice-dams on the tributaries flowing into the lake refused to disappear until what ordinarily would be mid-summer. That year, what crops the earth allowed were not just meager, but twisted and gnarled, almost like the woman Tappis-Chi, who chose that year to be her last. That year, the surface of the lake became covered with floating bodies of fish and the stench which covered everything was almost unbearable. Most ominous of all were the tales told by travelers of a great, thick cake of ice which not just existed a days journey to the northeast, but was inching toward the lake itself. And as it moved, it crushed everything, rocks, trees, even hills. No longer was there any good reason to stay. The Sons-of-Man folded their tents, took their cattle;-and journey toward the place where the sun sets. Once again they were a nomadic people.

The new lake, just over a dozen days trek from the old one, was much smaller, much more beautiful and much less salty. On closer examination it was described as being completely free of salt. Land as far as a mile from the shore was exceedingly fertile and the tall trees were heavy with fruit. True, there was not a heaven-berry bush to be seen, but many other types abounded in the forest and while scouts reported that no fish or the species found in the old lake seemed present in the new one, there were others which boasted a more delicate flavor. 

Smoke puffing from dozens of campfires plus seven or eight hollowed logs containing the figures of men, quietly searching the gently throbbing waters in search of fish at a little distance from the shore showed what appeared to be a peaceful community of some size pursuing its simple way of daily living. Trying to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun on the lake, Kosos the Elder monotoned, “Be sure that if we can see them, they can see us.” Then not wishing to hear the comments of the braggers who took such pride in describing their overblown bellicosity, Kosos quickly continued, “Bu t for now, the hour grows late. Let us return to the forest cover for the night… let us rest and refresh through the night, then at dawn dispatch a delegation across the lake. At the great lake many of us resented the bath of blood our warriors precipitated. This time we must approach in a spirit of peace.” 

The wild screams of a young woman as she raced through the sleeping camp clutching at the arrow which had entered her back, was the first manifestation of the surprise attack. Then from all sides came a rain of death and this was followed by shouting, axe-wielding lake warriors. It was obvious, even to them, however, that they had attacked a much, much larger force than they were prepared for. Within minutes, the attackers were overwhelmed, disarmed and set upon. Pounded, pummeled, kicked, gouged, cut, the lake warriors were only beginning to pay for the lack of judgement shown by their chiefs. Those still able to see and hear were quick to realize that the many fires which began to stoke so high as soon as they were trussed in rawhide straps were not meant for just the cooking of food. And yet in the depths of their despair came hope in the form of their chief, Eckassa and his sister, wife and female counterpart all in one, Elta. Directly descended from the ruling family of the sprawling lake community, each was over seven feet tall and draped across each pair of shoulders was a full-length cloak of the coal black fur of the cave bear. On the male chief’s left foot there were seven toes, which it turns out was mentioned in his name. “Eckassa”, it so happens is the ancient Smarran- Hit word for “extra”, or spare. 

While Elta stood like a statue, partially hidden in folds of a full length, finely made veil of white, Eckassa winced with each cry of pain from one of his men outside of the tent into which he had come to plead for mercy on his people. His wincing had grown into a violent twitch with each cry and by the time he was allowed to speak, the mighty Eckassa had become a quivering, weeping mass. Still, his voice, using a tongue quite like that spoken by the people of the great lake of salt, was steady and deep. “Perhaps if yours were the first people to invade our home, we should have greeted you with gifts and smiles, but many have come here in recent years… and what they have brought us is anger and disease and pain and trickery. When we saw you and yours, we decided to chase you away, but alas your numbers end resolve were so great that I fear it is we who must go… if indeed you will be kind enough to permit us to go.”

Kosos watched, listened and tried to gauge the man who stood before him in a position of awkward pleading, then looked to see ho his fellow elders were responding. Finally, with everyone looking to him, Kosos spoke. “Your eloquence and your persuasive powers, sir, are to be commended, but I must speak of the grievous hurt you have wrought upon a people who came to you in peace. Many dozens of us have felt the sharpness of your blades and the cruelty of your axes, and from what we have seen many families who were drawn by the beauty and serenity of your lake have suffered losses. Surely you cannot expect to be summarily pardoned for this unwarranted treachery.” With each word, Eckassa’s huge face seemed to sag and it may have been this pitiful look which softened Kosos’ heart as he continued, “But take heart, Chief… as I indicated, your position is one we understand, and we are a people who deal fairly. Your people are to pay for this attack with their labors… not with lives of slavery , but with two years dedicated to my people. Your servitude is to be a totally uncomplaining one, and if any among you attempts escape, he will be caught and slain. If he is not caught, then ten of your people will be slain in his place. ” At the conclusion of these words, Eckassa fell to the ground and kissed the feet of each of the elders. Then rising, he thanked Kosos profusely and sensing it to be the time to again speak, he said, “For your generosity I not just thank you, but offer you my greatest treasure …. my sister and wife, Chief Elta.” With a swing of his great arm, he flipped the loose veil from his wife’s body, revealing her in complete nudity. The elders were amazed by what they saw. The cream colored giant female was beautiful in every way except for the fact that one of her averted eyes was much larger than the other. After several moments of awkwardness, Kosos picked up the white veil, gave it back to Eckassa and said, “This lady … lovely though she is.. is not ours to take. She is yours. She is your partner and we would not have it any other way. Keep her and hold her in respect… and we rejoice in your good fortune.” Eckassa nodded and agreed in relief.

There was a solid harmony between the groups. If the imposition of a state of servitude was abolished less than half a year after it had been established and now there was even a modicum of seed blending. Actually there was a considerable amount of racial difference between them ; the nomads being larger and much hairier than the lake people who were sinewy, short and slant eyed. In addition, the lake people were smooth of skin and had traditional stories about an ancient homeland far past the rising sun to which they intended to return one day. Only the rulers such as Eckassa and lta looked unlike the others. Tall And dark, they felt it improper to relate physically to those who followed them.

In all there were less than twenty of these giant leaders. It was Eckassa, accompanied by one of his more trusted “Under- people “, an especially broad shouldered man whose name, Litus, meant great archer. When at last Eckassa felt the time proper for him to speak, he rose to his full seven feet, bowed to the elders and said, “Ever since the day of our unfortunate attacK, your people and mine have lived in a state of mutual trust and happiness, but lately there have been signs of problems arising. Surely you have observed that fewer fishes are swimming into our nets.” Here Kosos decided to insert a bit of lightness into what seemed to be a developing discussion of seriousness and with a hint of a smile said, “Perhaps, after all these years, the fishes are learning how to avoid being captured. ” Eckassa who was never known for his humor, paused, cast his somber eyes on the very wrinkled, almost chinless face of Kosos and responded, “There is indeed a possibility that your jest contains a degree of truth… however, lake swimmers and divers also report that the numbers of fishes are growing smaller. My advisors suggest that too many people are living on the seashores now… and that it would be best if one group leaves the lake to the other. I will say this… your group alone is too large to gain sustenance from so small a body of water… but if you choose to stay, then we who have lived here all our lives will go elsewhere. Me will, at any rate, abide by your decision.” He then closed his eyes and hung his head as though in prayer. 

Finally Eckassa spoke again. “There is yet another problem. Our scouts report that a great mass of frozen water is now approaching from the northwest. Perhaps you have noted a great number of wild beasts running through our community toward the west. These are fleeing the ice mass which crunches several paces each day in this direction. It destroys all its catch.” The nomadic elders were fully aware of the crushing ice problem and began nodding in unison with Eckassa’s description. Before dismissing Eckassa and Litus, Kosos thanked them for coming and said, “Your message is an important one. The elders and I will discuss your words fully. ” 

Nights were growing longer and water began turning to ice in the pots left in the open. hen the first sight of the icy mass appeared in a small valley just a few miles north of the lake, the decision to leave became final. However, there arose a disagreement about where best to go and a smallish portion chose to follow Kosos, the elder, toward the west where he envisioned a land of plenty. The majority opted to move toward the south, where legend said was their true ancestral home.

With the departure of the last of the nomads, Eckassa and Elta stood on an elevated ledge watching. As the last of them disappeared over a hill, the pious and proper Eckassa spat upon the ground and muttered, “At last this curse has left us. I have hated them from the first sight until the last… and we must ensure that they don’t ever return.” Then turning to his trusted Litus, said, “My good and trusted friend… take with you forty archers and follow them as far as the headwaters of Firat. At that point, if any stragglers seem inclined to want to return, kill them… the ugly man-beasts!”

Al though Kosos’ group was but a tenth the original tribe size, it was still much larger than any group whose path he crossed during the winter trek spanning the bitterness of Asia Minor. In fact, despite the considerable numbers of nomadic peoples the crossbreeds met, there happened only one time that Kosos even felt inclined to alert his soldiers. That was when the strangers were observed to be tall, blue eyed, and fair haired. They were dressed in garments fashioned of animal furs. On the surface, there seemed no reason for such concern. In all there could not have been more than five hundred of these hulking strangers and most of these appeared to be women. However, there seemed something in their bearing and in their general bone structure which struck a responsive chord deep within Kosos’ psyche, or perhaps it was from the days when ancient literature and lore was drummed in to him during educational times. “I must watch them closely, ” he confided to a fellow elder. “They have “he look and manner of ancient Squareheads.” It so happened that he was correct. These were, in fact, descendants of the criminal element placed on Earth in exile.

 Roaming free, these people in the five thousand years which had passed since first they came, had multiplied and had covered much of the world. However, this particular time, unlike many other times when their paths crossed, there was no problem. They met, exchanged food and drink in peace and quiet, then smilingly went their own ways. Inexplicably, Kosos was relieved. Seventeen days into their journey, the nomads approached foothills of a mountain range which stretched toward the south. It was rather surprising in that until then they had not seen ice fields in that direction.

Somehow, Kosos felt a bit disoriented by this and he made camp while a search party went on ahead. It turned out that the way toward the northwest was clear. There were no tall mountains, nor any deep rivers, so they moved in that direction. Finally on one of the first warming days, they met another tribe, large but not so large as the one Kosos led. These were tall, rugged people with skins of dark brown and despite their formidable appearance, they seemed bent on avoiding direct contact with the mass of Kosos’ people. However, what was permitted was a meeting between the scouts of both groups, and during the second night, they became bold enough to present their king, Hectdea-Hacto. On the third night, Kosos himself attended and after that both groups camped together on the chill highlands for eight days and nights. During this time, the tribes entertained each other with contrasting kinds of dancing and music and food and drink and there was much laughter with no trace of any animosity. This even extended into wrestling contests between the champions of the two groups, as well as races and archery contests.

While this was going on, Hectdea-Hacto and Kosos struggled with problems of language and eventually mastered enough of the others’ tongue to form a basis of understanding. By the time they parted, each felt the kinship and the friendship of the other. “Twenty days march,” Kosos told his advisors, “just twenty days… with no ice fields to bar our way, there is a place where two great seas approach each other but are separated by a slender slip of land. On the other side of this narrow neck is a land of plenty… a land of much food and much water… a promised land. We will go there…and when we reach this new Eden… I have decided on our arrival I am to change my name. My ally Hedueda-Hadao has suggested that my new name be a beautiful word in his language, which means “deliverance” and I have decided to take this name. He also says that the land barrier between the seas appears certain to collapse in the near future. He has lent us two men to guide us, but we must make haste.” Eighteen days later, the nomads arrived and were witness to the fact that the land between the lakes was indeed crumbling.

Bidding Godspeed to their guides, they managed to cross safely before the angry bodies of salt water charged into each other. To this day the waters are occasionally angry at the narrow place of convergence called the Bosphorus. A sardonic look crossing his aging face, Kosos said, “It is a shame that the Squareheads were not present and actually making the crossing at the time of the disappearance of that neck of land… we should Have been rid of them for all time. It so happens that Kosos’ new name, the Nuer tongue says meant “deliverance” has yet another translation. In his own ancient language it meant “he who was taken from the waters.” While the old name, Kosos has drifted into the dust of time, the one he assumed that day as he stepped onto European soil is still known everywhere. That name is Moses.

About the same time, hundreds of miles to the southeast, the “Sons-of-Man”… and that is what they had again begun to call themselves, after crossing rivers of water and rivers of sand in their trek to escape the horrendous ice fields, came at last to the lushness of the river Jordan. Here, at last, was plenty of water for swimming, for bathing, for fishing, for cooking and for drinking. Here at last their cattle began to produce more milk than they might ever need. Here at last were nuts and fruits, eggs and herbal medicines growing wild. Here at last were friendly, attractive natives. Here at last was a land they felt sure would not be terrorized by field of ice. Every delightful day the same questions were asked, “Is not this, without doubt our rightful home… is this not without doubt our long lost Garden of Eden?” 

It was not Eden. That was hundreds of miles to the east. And to make matters worse, their new neighbors were not the friends they seemed to be. This much was made all too clear one pleasant morning, when the Sons- of-Man awakened to find in their midst, great numbers of stomping, strutting, armed squareheaded men of the type which were described in their literature and occasionally haunted their night-time visions. Despite the immensity of the tribe, no resistance seemed possible. Once more they found themselves in the grasp of the hated, feared “Sons-of-God.” On that most horrid of mornings, the proud people who had traversed the ages and the lands in search of an ancestral home, found themselves herded together like cattle and forced in to a march southwestward into lives of bondage, in a place we know today as Egypt.