Robert Adams - The Death of a Legend

The Fowler became visibly—visibly to another Teenéhdjook—excited. “Your family, Old One? There are then more than the three males—you and two more—I can sense?” There are more,” admitted the Eldest grudgingly, “but they are far away and well hidden, and my sons and I will slay many men before they can get near to the females and the young. How many of those men are willing to die this day?” “No one of them, I would imagine,” the Fowler replied dryly. ‘True-men value their own lives as highly as we do ours. But there is no need for threats and still less for a battle; so far, my two sons and I are the only beings who even know the nearness of you and the other two males… except for the horses and oxen, of course, but they can sense that you are not hunting them.

“I respect your caution, Old One, the wisdom of distrusting that with which you are unfamiliar, and so I will not tell the duke—and then, him only—of you and yours and this conversation until the party reach the place of big trees, where we all are bound this day. Then I will come back along this trail with one of my sons and the duke, for we must converse more upon these matters. The Kingdom of New Kuhmbuhluhn lies in dire need of the strength of you and your family, and—” “I will meet with you and your son,” agreed the Eldest “But if you bring even the one true-man, none of you will ever see me or mine again.”

“Oh, all right,” said the Fowler a little peevishly. “My son and I will come back along this trail. When you are sure that we are indeed alone, with no true-men close behind, you can show yourself or bespeak me and we will come to you. Is that plan easeful to your mind, Old One?”

That first meeting had been just after dawn. It was almost noon before one of the sons of the Eldest beamed back that the stranger Teenéhdjook and his half-breed son were loping back along the trail, alone and followed by no creatures he could see or smell or sense the minds of. Nonetheless, the Eldest let the two proceed nearly a mile more before he stepped onto the trail before them, leaving a son and a grandson concealed in the fringes of the forest, each of them armed with several bone-tipped darts.

After that meeting, there were many others, some with the Fowler, alone, others with him and various of his brothers, sisters and their get, finally with a mixed group of the Teenéhdjook, Kleesahk and two of the big Ganik women who were either mates or mothers of the others of the party. This last group the Fowler persuaded the Eldest to conduct to his wellconcealed campsite. There were other group meetings after that one; Kuhmbuhluhner Teenéhdjook and Kleesahk went with the sons and grandsons of the Eldest to hunt, while the Ganik women foraged beside the females of the other species: then all sat or hunkered side by side to feast about the fires: then all slept through the frigid night, huddled together under the furs inside the snug shelters deep in the forest.

It was not until the first soft-green shoots were pushing up through the last remnants of the last snows of the dying winter that the Eldest finally consented to a meeting with true-man Kuhmbuhluhners. Two of these men came, accompanied by the Fowler, one of his brothers and two of his Kleesahk sons, all four now very familiar to the Eldest.

Cautious until the very end, the Eldest insisted that this momentous meeting take place many miles from the campsite, and although he appeared alone, he and those with whom he met were under constant observation by his sons and grandsons, all well armed with darts and ready slings.

The Eldest recognized one of the men who rode into the clearing as him who had led the tree-cutting party of which the Fowler had been a part on the late-autumn day they had first met and mindspoken. The short, broad Duke Fillip rode beside and a little behind his human companion—a man who looked and smelled much like him, though taller and even broader. Both men’s bared heads were crowned with shocks of hair only a few shades lighter than the dark-red hide of the duke’s big horse, both were of a weathered-ruddy complexion and both had bushy brows over blue-green eyes. The bigger man was, of course, Byruhn III, King of New Kuhmbuhluhn.

“Lord prince,” said old Elmuh, “the lord champion now has heard all up to the first meeting of my grandfather with his highness King Byruhn III. Shall I continue?”

“No, Elmuh, thank you. I shall take up the tale. Return to your meal,” the prince said and nodded graciously.

“Know you, Cousin Bili,” Byruhn began, “that before the arrival of the family of Elmuh’s grandsire, Teenéhdjook owned far fewer powers than now they do. Before even the Kuhmbuhluhners came down from the north, those early Teenéhdjook and Kieesahk—for they had been interbreeding with the big Ganiks for years—had aided the true-men to massacre and drive out the great warparty of Ahrmehnee and Moon Maidens who invaded from the east. But no sooner was that crisis done than the savage small Ganiks turned on their erstwhile allies so viciously and in such numbers that these less warlike ones found it necessary to find and fortify a glen much like this one. They were living there, under intermittent siege, when my great-grandfather and his folk arrived and, making common cause with them, used their superior arms and war skills and bigger horses to drive the small Ganiks back to whence they had come.

“King Mahrtuhn and his folk found the Teenéhdjook priceless in the work of building. Each of them had the strength of many full-grown men, of course, but more, they were more agile than most men and had no slightest fear of heights. Despite the seeming clumsiness of their huge hands and thick fingers, they were capable of doing very delicate work in wood or stone and many another medium, while their differently structured eyes could easily see smaller things or objects much farther away than could your average true-man.

“Also, this acute vision and their well-developed sense of smell made them superlative hunters, even better when once they were taught the use of the bow and the spear-throwing stick. And they knew every edible wild plant in these mountains and glens. They it was who kept my forebears and the other folk fed until land could be cleared and crops planted and reaped.

“But the Teenéhdjook were a dying breed until the arrival of Elmuh’s grandfather’s family, for those Teenéhdjook we found here had but two pureblood females still living, and one of them too old to breed. This was the original reason why the Teenéhdjook males had bred with the big Ganik women. But—as Elmuh earlier told you—such hybrids are almost always sterile, as mules are, and they uniformly lack the full size and strength of a full Teenéhdjook, nor do they ever live as long.

“King Mahrtuhn and his sons and retainers were quick to recognize and appreciate the value of these large, strong, vastly talented, but inherently gentle and retiring creatures. Very soon after the arrival of my forebears, all of these outsized beings were placed under royal protection, they were honored and privileged subjects, only required to perform such tasks or labors as it pleased them to do. They would have made fearsome fighters in the battle line, but as the most of them loathe warfare and will kill only for food or in final defense of themselves or their families, King Mahrtuhn exempted them from weapons training or war drills. The royal foresters it was who taught the big ones the use of bow and spear-thrower, and then only in the context of the hunting of game animals.

“Being what they are—in many ways, especially moral ones, they are far superior to most true-men—the Teenéhdjook and Kleesahk never tried to take unfair advantage of the great respect borne for them by King Mahrtuhn and the Kuhmbuhluhners; rather did they conceive a sincere love for these first humans of normal stature who had ever proffered them true friendship in a span of time known by the hills alone.