Harry Harrison - Eden 02 - Winter in Eden

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Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
WINTER IN EDEN
Harry Harrison
Published 1986. ISBN 0-553-26628-4
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
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Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
8 And the LORD God planted a
garden
eastward in Eden;
and there he put the man
whom he had formed.
16 And Cain went out from the
presence
of the LORD, and dwelt
in the land of Nod,
on the east of Eden.
GENESIS
The great reptiles were the most successful life forms ever to populate this world. For 140 million years 
they ruled the Earth, filled the sky, swarmed in the seas. At this time the mammals, the ancestors of 
mankind, were only tiny, shrew-like animals that were preyed upon by the larger, faster, more intelligent 
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saurians.

Then, 65 million years ago, this all changed. A meteor six miles in diameter struck the Earth and caused

disastrous atmospheric upheavals. Within a brief span of time over seventy-five percent of all the species

then existent were wiped out. The age of the dinosaurs was over; the evolution of the mammals that they

had suppressed for 100 million years began.

But what if that meteor had not fallen?

What would our world be like today?

PROLOGUE: KERRICK

Life is no longer easy. Too much has changed, too many are dead, the winters are too long. It was not

always this way. I remember clearly the encampment where I grew up, remember the three families there,

the long days, friends, good food. During the warm seasons we stayed on the shore of a great lake filled

with fish. My first memories are of that lake, looking across its still water at the high mountains beyond,

seeing their peaks grow white with the first snows of winter. When the snow whitened our tents and the

grass around as well, that would be the time when the hunters went to the mountains. I was in a hurry to

grow up, eager to hunt the deer, and the greatdeer, at their side.

That simple world of simple pleasures is gone forever. Everything has changed—and not for the better.

At times I wake at night and wish that what happened had never happened. But these are foolish thoughts

and the world is as it is, changed now in every way. What I thought was the entirety of existence has

proved to be only a tiny corner of reality. My lake and my mountains are only the smallest part of this

great continent that borders an immense ocean to the east.

I also know about the others, the creatures we call murgu, and I learned to hate them even before I saw

them. As our flesh is warm, theirs is chill. We have hair upon our heads and a hunter will grow a proud

beard, while the animals that we hunt have warm flesh and fur or hair. But this is not true of the murgu.

They are cold and smooth and scaled, have claws and teeth to rend and tear, are large and terrible, to be

feared. And hated. I knew that they lived in the warm waters of the ocean to the south and on the warm

lands to the south. They cannot abide the cold so they did not trouble us.

All that has changed so terribly that nothing will be the same ever again. That is because there are murgu

called Yilanè who are intelligent just as we Tanu are intelligent. It is my unhappy knowledge that our

world is only a tiny part of the Yilanè world. We live in the north of a great continent. And to the south of

us, over all the land, there swarm only Yilanè.

And there is even worse. Across the ocean there are even larger continents—and there there are no

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hunters at all. None. But Yilanè, only Yilanè. The entire world is theirs except for our small part.

Now I will tell you the worst thing about the Yilanè. They hate us as we hate them. This would not matter

if they were only great, insensate beasts. We would stay in the cold north and avoid them in this manner.

But there are those among them who may be as intelligent as hunters, as fierce as hunters. And their

number cannot be counted but it is enough to say that they fill all of the lands of this great world.

I know these things because I was captured by the Yilanè, grew up among them, learned from them. The

first horror I felt when my father and all the others were killed has been dimmed by the years. When I

learned to speak as the Yilanè do I became as one of them, forgot that I was a hunter, even learned to call

my people ustuzou, creatures of filth. Since all order and rule among the Yilanè come down from the top

I thought very well of myself. Since I was close to Vaintè, the eistaa of the city, its ruler, I was looked

upon as a ruler myself.

The living city of Alpèasak was newly grown on these shores, settled by Yilanè from across the ocean

who had been driven from their own distant city by the winters that grow colder every year. The same

cold that drove my father and the other Tanu south in the search for food sent the Yilanè questing across

the sea. They grew their city on our shores and when they found the Tanu there before them they killed

them. Just as the Tanu killed Yilanè on sight.

For many years I had no knowledge of this. I grew up among the Yilanè and thought as they did. When

they made war I looked upon the enemy as filthy ustuzou, not Tanu, my brothers. This changed only

when I met the prisoner, Herilak. A sammadar, a leader of the Tanu, who understood me far better than I

understood myself. When I spoke to him as enemy, alien, he spoke to me as flesh of his flesh. As the

language of my childhood returned so did my memories of that warm earlier life. Memories of my

mother, family, friends. There are no families among the Yilanè, no suckling babies among egg-laying

lizards, no possible friendships where these cold females rule, where the males are locked from sight of

all for a lifetime.

Herilak showed me that I was Tanu, not Yilanè, so I freed him and we fled. At first I regretted it—but

there was no going back. For I had attacked and almost killed Vaintè, she who rules. I joined the

sammads, the family groups of the Tanu, joined them in flight from the attacks of those who had once

been my companions. But I had other companions now, and friendship of a kind I could never know

among the Yilanè. I had Armun, she who came to me and showed me what I had never even known,

awoke the feelings I could never have known while I was living among that alien race. Armun who bore

our son.

But we still lead our lives under the constant threat of death. Vaintè and her warriors followed the

sammads without mercy. We fought—and sometimes won, even capturing some of their living weapons,

the death-sticks that killed creatures of any size. With these we could penetrate far to the south, eating

well of the teeming murgu, killing the vicious ones when they attacked. Only to flee again when Vaintè

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Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison

and her endless supply of fighters from across the sea found us and attacked. This time the survivors went

where we could not be followed, across the frozen mountain ranges to the land beyond. Yilanè cannot

live in the snows; we thought we would be safe.

And we were, for a long time we were. Beyond the mountains we found Tanu who did not live by hunting

alone, but grew crops in their hidden valley and could make pots, weave cloth and do many other

wondrous things. They are the Sasku and they are our friends, for they worship the god of the mastodon.

We brought our mastodons to them and we have been as one people ever since. Life was good in the

Sasku valley.

Until Vaintè found us once again.

When this happened I realized that we could run no more. Like cornered animals we must turn and fight.

At first none would listen to me for they did not know the enemy as I did. But they came to understand

that the Yilanè had no knowledge of fire. They would learn of it when we brought the torch to their city.

And this is what we did. Burnt their city of Alpèasak and sent the few survivors fleeing back to their own

world and their own cities across the sea. This was good for one of those who lived was Enge who had

been my teacher and my friend. She did not believe in killing as all the others did, and led her small band

called the Daughters of Life, believers in the sanctity of life. Would that they had been the only survivors.

But Vaintè lived as well. This creature of hatred survived the destruction of her city, fled on the uruketo,

the great living vessel the Yilanè used, sailed out to sea.

This is what has happened in the past. Now I stand on the shore with the ashes of the city blowing about

me and try to think of what will happen now, what must be done in the years to come.

CHAPTER ONE

Tharman i ermani lasfa katiskapri ap naudinz modia—em bleit hepellin er atta, so faldar elka ensi

hammar.

Marbak proverb

The tharms in the stars may gaze down on a hunter with pleasure—but that is a cold appreciation that

cannot light a fire.

The storm was ending, blowing out to sea. Sheets of rain swept over the distant uruketo hiding it from

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sight. It appeared again suddenly as the rain moved past it, farther away now, a dark shape against the

whitefoamed waves. Low evening sun pierced the broken clouds and washed the uruketo with russet

light, picking out the high outline of the fin. Then it was gone, invisible now in the growing darkness.

Herilak stood in the surf and shook his spear after it, shouting aloud with bitterness.

"They should have died too, all of them, none should escape."

"The killing has stopped," Kerrick said wearily. "It is over, done, finished. We have won. We have slain

the murgu, burned their city." He pointed to the smoking trees behind them. "You have had your

vengeance. For every one of your sammad that they killed you have burned a hault of murgu. You have

done that. For every hunter, woman, child dead, you have killed murgu to the count of a man. That is

enough. Now we must forget dying and think about living."

"You talked with one of them, let it escape. My spear hand trembled—that was not a good thing for you

to do."

Kerrick was aware of the other's anger and his own rose to meet it—but he kept it under control. They

were all tired, close to exhaustion after the events of the day. And he must remember that Herilak had

obeyed his order not to slay Enge when he talked with her.

"To you all murgu are the same, all to be killed. But that one, she was my teacher—and she is different

from the others. She speaks only of peace. If the murgu listen to her, believe her, there could be an end to

this war…"

"They will return, return for vengeance."

The tall hunter was still possessed by anger, shaking his blood-drenched spear at the vanished,

vanquished enemy, his eyes, burnt by the drifting smoke, were as red as his spearpoint. Both hunters were

filthy with soot, their blond beards and long hair thick with pieces of ash. Kerrick knew that it was

Herilak's hatred speaking, his need to kill murgu and to go on killing, time without end. But Kerrick knew

as well, with a sick feeling that gripped his insides, that Herilak was also speaking the truth. The murgu,

the Yilanè, the enemy, they would be back. Vaintè would see to that. She still lived, and while she lived

there was no safety, no peace. When he realized this the strength went out of him and he swayed, leaning

on his spear for support, shaking his head as though to clear away the vision of despair from before his

eyes. He must forget Vaintè and forget the murgu, forget all about them. Now was a time for living; the

dying was over. A shout cut through the blackness of his thoughts and he turned to see the Sasku hunter,

Keridamas, calling to him from the blackened ruins of Alpèasak.

"There are murgu, still alive, trapped."

Herilak wheeled about with a cry and Kerrick laid a restraining hand on his arm.

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"Don't," he said quietly. "Put your spear down. Let me see to this. The killing must end somewhere."

"No, never, not with these creatures. But I stay my spear because you are still margalus, our war

counsellor who leads us in battle against the murgu, and I still obey your command."

Kerrick turned about wearily and Herilak followed as he plodded his way through the heavy sand toward

the burnt city. He was bone-weary and wanted only to rest, but could not. Were there Yilanè still alive? It

did not seem possible. Fargi and Yilanè both had died when their city died—it was the same as being cast

out, discarded. When this happened the Yilanè then suffered an irreversible change—he had seen it

himself—that always ended in death. But, yes, there were exceptions, it was possible that some could still

live. They could be the Daughters of Life: they did not die like the others. He would have to see for

himself.

"We found them coming from one of the half-burnt groves of trees," Keridamas said. "Killed one but the

others scrambled back inside. It was Simmacho who thought you might like to see them, kill them

yourself, margalus."

"Yes!" Herilak said, turning about, an expression of intense hatred stripping his lips from his teeth.

Kerrick shook his head with a great weariness.

"Let us see who they are before we slaughter them. Or still better let us take them alive. I will talk to them

for there are things that I must know."

They picked their way through the blackened killing ground, between the still-smouldering trees and past

the piled corpses. Their path took them through the ambesed and Kerrick stopped, horrified at the

tumbled mounds of Yilanè bodies. They looked uninjured, unburnt—yet all were dead. And all were

stretched out and facing toward the far wall of the ambesed. Kerrick looked in that direction too, to the

seat of power where Vaintè had sat, now barren and empty. The fargi and Yilanè must have rushed here,

trampling each other, seeking the protection of the Eistaa. But she was gone, the seat of power was

empty, the city dying. So they had died as well. Keridamas led the way, stepping over the tumbled bodies,

and Kerrick followed, numbed with shock. All these dead. Something would have to be done about them

before they began to rot. Too many to bury. He would think of something.

"There, up ahead," Keridamas said, pointing with his spear. Simmacho was poking at a splintered and

scorched doorway, trying to peer inside in the growing darkness. When he saw Kerrick he pointed at the

Yilanè corpse before him on the ground and turned it over with his foot. Kerrick glanced at it—then bent

over to look more closely in the dying light. No wonder this place looked familiar. It was the hanalè.

"This one is a male," he said. "The others inside must be males as well." Simmacho poked the corpse in

amazement. Like most of the Tanu he could not quite believe that the vicious murgu they had been

fighting, killing, were all female.

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Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison

"This one ran," he said.

"The males don't fight—or do anything else. They are all locked away in this place."

Simmacho was still puzzled. "Why did it not die like the others?"

Why indeed? Kerrick thought. "The females died because their city died, it would be the same for them as

being rejected. Something happens to them when they are driven from the city. I'm not quite sure what.

But it is deadly enough, you can see proof on all sides. It appears as though the males, being kept apart

and protected, always rejected by the city in a way, do not die with the others."

"They will die on our spears," Herilak said. "And quickly before they escape in the darkness."

"It is not their way to move about at night, you know that. Nor is there another door leading out of this

place. Let us now stop the killing and all the talk of killing and rest here until morning. Eat and drink and

sleep."

None argued with this. Kerrick found water-fruit on an unburnt tree and showed them how to drink from

them. Their food was gone but fatigue was greater than hunger and they were asleep almost at once.

Not so Kerrick. He was as tired as the others but the whirl of his thoughts kept him awake. Above him the

last clouds blew away and the stars came out. Then he slept, unknowing, and when he looked again dawn

was clearing the sky.

There was movement behind him and in the growing light he saw Herilak, knife in hand, walking silently

toward the entrance to the hanalè.

"Herilak," he called out as he rose stiffly to his feet. The big hunter spun about, his face grim with anger,

hesitated—then pushed the knife into its sling, turned and stalked away. There was nothing that Kerrick

could say that would ease the pain that tore at him. Instead of diminishing Herilak's anger and hatred the

killings seemed only to have intensified his emotions. Perhaps this would pass soon. Perhaps. Kerrick's

thoughts were troubled as he slaked his thirst from one of the water-fruit. There was much still to be

done. But first he had to find out if there really were any Yilanè still alive in the hanalè. He looked down

wearily at his spear. Was it still needed? There might be females alive inside who did not know of the

city's destruction. He took up the weapon and held it before him as he pushed through the burned and

warped door.

There was blackened ruin here. Fire had swept along the hall and through the transparent panels

overhead. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke—and of burnt flesh. Spear ready he walked the

length of the hall, the only part of the hanalè he had ever seen, and on to the turning at the end. A

scorched doorway led to a large chamber—where the smell of charred flesh was overpowering. More

than enough light filtered down through the burnt ceiling above to reveal the dreadful contents of the

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room.

Almost at his feet, burned and dead with her mouth gaping wide, was Ikemend, the keeper of the hanalè.

Behind her were the huddled shapes of her charges. The room was packed with them, now burnt and as

dead as their keeper. Kerrick turned away, shuddering, and made his way deeper into the structure.

It was a maze of connecting rooms and passages, for the most part charred and destroyed. Yet further on

the wood was greener, this section recently grown, and scarcely touched by the fire. At the last turning he

entered a chamber with ornate hangings on the walls, soft cushions on the floor. Huddled against the far

wall, their eyes bulging and their jaws dropped in juvenile fear, were two young males. They moaned

when they saw him.

"It is death," they said and closed their eyes.

"No!" Kerrick called out loudly. "Correction of statement. Foolishness of males—attention to a superior

speaking."

Their eyes flew open with astonishment at this.

"Speak," he ordered. "Are there others?"

"The creature that talks points the sharp tooth that kills," one of them moaned.

Kerrick dropped his spear onto the matting and moved away from it. "The killing is over. Are you two

alone?"

"Alone!" they wailed in unison and their hands flashed the colors of juvenile terror and pain. Kerrick

fought to keep his temper with the stupid creatures.

"Listen to me and be silent," he ordered. "I am Kerrick strong-and-important who sits at the Eistaa's side.

You have heard of me." They signed agreement: perhaps knowledge of his flight had not penetrated their

isolation. Or, more simply, they had forgotten. "Now you will answer my questions. How many of you

are here?"

"We hid," the younger one said, "it was a game that we were playing. The others had to find us. I was

over there, Elinman hid with me, and Nadaske behind the door. But the others never came. Something

happened. It was very warm and nice, and then bad smells came in clouds that hurt our eyes and throats.

We called for Ikemend to help us, but she never came. We were afraid to go out. I was too frightened,

they named me Imehei because I am like that, but Elinman is very bold. He led the way and we followed.

What we saw I cannot tell you, it was too dreadful. We wanted to leave the hanalè even though that is

forbidden and Elinman did and screamed and we ran back inside. What will become of us?" What would

indeed happen to them? Certain death if the hunters came upon them. They would see only murgu with

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claws and teeth, the enemy. But Kerrick saw them for what they were; sheltered, stupid creatures, barely

able to care for themselves. He couldn't allow them to be killed, was weary of killing at last.

"Stay here," he ordered.

"We are afraid and hungry," Imehei wailed. Soft-to-touch, that was what his name was. True enough.

And the other, Nadaske, looks-out-from-the-enclosure. They were like children, worse than children, for

they would never grow up.

"Silence—I command it. You have water here and are plump enough to go hungry for a bit. You will not

leave this room. Meat will be brought to you. Do you understand?" They were calm now, signalled ready

obedience, secure in being commanded and watched over. Males! He took up his spear and left them

there. Went back through the immensity of the structure and when he emerged Herilak was waiting for

him. Behind him were the rest of the hunters, while Sanone and his Sasku were grouped to one side.

"We are leaving," Herilak said. He had his anger under control now—but it had been replaced with a cold

resolve. "What we came to do—has been done. The murgu and their nest have been destroyed. There is

nothing more for us here. We return to the sammads."

"You must stay. There is still work to be done…"

"Not for Tanu. You were our margalus, Kerrick, and you led us well against the murgu and we honor you

for that and we obeyed you. But now that the murgu are dead you no longer command us. We are

leaving."

"Have you been selected to speak for all of them, strong Herilak?" Kerrick said angrily. "I do not

remember this selection." He turned to the hunters. "Does Herilak speak for you—or have you minds of

your own?"

Some turned away from his anger, but the sammadar Sorli stepped forward. "We have thoughts of our

own, and we have talked. Herilak tells the truth. There is nothing for us here. What is done is done and

we must return to our sammads before the winter. You must come as well, Kerrick, your sammad is to the

north, not here."

Armun. At the thought of her this city of death was nothing. She was his sammad, she and the baby, and

he almost gave way, joined them in the march north. But behind Sorli was Sanone and his Sasku and they

had not moved. Kerrick turned toward them, spoke.

"And what do the Sasku say of this?"

"We have spoken as well and have not yet finished with the speaking. We have just come to this new

place, there is much here to be seen and spoken of—and we do not share the same need for the frozen

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WinterinEden-HarryHarrisonWINTERINEDENHarryHarrisonPublished1986.ISBN0-553-26628-4CONTENTSPrologueChapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23Chap...

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Harry Harrison - Eden 02 - Winter in Eden

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