The Uprights, page 44
He briefly glances at the lake again, returns to his ledge and then starts to draw in the dust. And what he shows is a long shape, stretching out more sideways than it does from front to back. He moves away to admire his work. He has never done this before and rather likes the feeling of catching hold of things with his eyes, holding onto them with his head, and then letting go of them with a finger. The end of a stick. A toe. Perhaps it doesn’t matter how he does it after all. Yes, that’s about right. Now where is the island? Where does that go? He has another look, but then, rather than scratching a round line in the dust, he puts a pebble where he thinks it should be. That’s where Wuhn is resting. Recovering. Waiting for his instructions. And then, resisting thoughts that tell him he is acting like a young one, Dhi stoops so low his eyes are just a hand’s-breadth from the pebble. So near, he should be able to see a very tiny Wuhn as well. Make sure she is all right. Why not? If his eyes and head and toe can make the lake and the island and anything else he chooses, why not his female as well?
What about the sun? He knows he can’t draw the sun: it walks in the sky and that is much too high, but can he put in the hills it sleeps in? Why not? And the hill of their caves. Their clearing. Even where he is now. And as he knows there is no reason why he can’t do all that, he draws them in the dust, on the ground, by his feet. Then he looks down at what he has drawn. He looks down from above. From high up. As if he is the sun. He has made himself the sun. Is he the sun? Is an upright who draws his world, the same as the sun? Does he become the sun? Or can the sun become an upright?
He is pleased with everything he has drawn. Even so, there’s a problem: he cannot take it with him. But he can study what’s by his feet and put the shapes into his head. Into his head. But that is where the drawing came from in the first place. How very strange. Especially as it is so much clearer to him than it was before.
It’s time to move further down the steep side of the hill, but he still keeps himself hidden from any who might look in his direction. The sun isn’t yet overhead, and he won’t stand on the shore and call to Wuhn until he is sure all the hunters have left the area. He mustn’t fail Wuhn when she has done so much to save herself. If only he could talk to her quietly, without risking the sound of his voice will bring the hunters back. But how can he do that when she is so far away? And if he doesn’t tell her what to do, how will he rescue her? Even show he has found her.
While he thinks about this, he sees movement in the distance. Not directly beneath where the hunters tried to stop Wuhn escaping, but much further away. On a far shore. Near where he and Mahr saw the smoke – if it was smoke. It’s a group of uprights, and apart from one or two young ones, they all appear to be grown females. There’re definitely no males in the group. And they are coming out of the forest. To do what? It must be to fill their bowls with water. What else could it be? They are a long way away. Even so, he understands it’s still not safe to shout across the water to Wuhn. Or show himself. He has to wait until they have gone back into the trees.
So he has to remain hidden from view for longer. None of the hunters or their females knows he’s on the hill, or that he plans to rescue Wuhn – that is his only weapon. The only way he can succeed. But why can’t he see Wuhn now? She’s not so far away as the other females and he saw her clearly before. She can’t be hiding. There’s no need for her to do that. Every hunter saw her swim to the island and crawl onto dry land. But that was a while ago. Where has she gone since? Is she is searching for food among the trees? Sleeping in the undergrowth. Trying to convince her pursuers she has gone elsewhere. Or has she gone back into the water? Tried to swim to another part of the shore. Sunk under the water and died. He desperately wants to find out what has happened, but he knows there is nothing he can do until the sun drops behind the distant hills.
So reluctantly, he readies himself for another wait. Before now, he didn’t fully realise doing nothing can be as important as doing something. Nothing. Something. The ideas go round and round. There is no beginning. And no ending. The trunk of a tree. The outside of a lake. Day and night. Life and death.
He thinks he might have slept for two or three breaths, but when he awakes he sees the sun has walked right across the sky and has almost disappeared from sight. At first, Dhi curses himself for failing in his duty, but then he changes his mind. It’s good he didn’t leave his hiding place – it’s just possible some of the hunters have lingered in the forest, out-of-sight, by the water’s edge. Soon it will be time for them to sleep. Surely they will go back to their camp now, even if they haven’t done so before. Then it will be safe for him to scramble down the rest of the hill and call out to Wuhn.
But before he moves and for reasons he doesn’t understand, he looks along the shore again, to where he had earlier seen the females. There’s no sign of them now – not that he expected anything different – but it’s good to know they have left the lake and have gone to their settlement in the forest. And that can’t be far from where they filled their bowls – they wouldn’t want to carry heavy loads of water on their heads long distances. Surely, the hunters will be with them now. Females, hunters, young ones and infants: the whole clan is over there. In the trees. Far away. Now out of sight. Certainly, further than they will be able to hear.
It all seems to be working out as he might have hoped and yet something troubles him. And when he is in this state, he always stops what he is doing and sits down to think. That’s the type of thing that used to annoy Tahk so much – he recalls his father’s scornful reactions and smarts at the memory even now.
“Leaders are made by doing. Not by not doing, Dhi”
“Take your enemies by surprise.”
“Speed wins. Delay loses.”
He knows his father was right – after all, every leader in the clan respected him –but he couldn’t do anything different when Tahk was alive and can’t do anything different now. If he is bothered by something, he has to puzzle it out before doing anything else. Even if it means he won’t be able to talk to Wuhn before dark.
But what is troubling him? It’s to do with the uprights’ camp. He knows that. Not that he has seen it, or knows anything about it. But surely that is where they live. Where the females look after the infants. Where they eat and drink and mate.
Surely, it’s also where they sleep. That’s what all uprights do. It’s what his family does. No, it isn’t. At least, not when they’re hunting. Then, they don’t sleep in their cave. They sleep where they are. On hard rock. In cold valleys. Among restless, noisy trees.
He must think some more. When he saw Wuhn and the runaway by the water’s edge, the sky was just starting to lighten. Yet the hunters were already on the shoreline.
They must have followed them earlier and then tricked them into thinking they had gone back to their camp for the night – when they had done nothing of the sort. That’s what good leaders do. Trick those they want to catch into believing they are safe. Then rush at them when they are not expecting it.
That’s what the hunters did with Wuhn. That’s what the hunters might do with him.
They’re cunning – he has to admit that – and probably still in the forest opposite the island. Even so, they don’t know he’s hidden, halfway up the cliff. But what use is he to Wuhn if he stays where he is? No use at all. He can’t shout across the water without giving away his position. Maybe he can stand up. Show himself. Wave his arms in the air. The hunters won’t be looking. But nor will Wuhn. What can he do? He can’t think of anything. Well then, what would Tahk do? Tahk. Oh, he knows what Tahk would do and say. And it wouldn’t be to worry the hunters might be near.
“When did you last see any movement?” he would ask.
“When did you last hear any voices?” he would admonish.
“How many hunters does it take to catch one female?” he would deride.
Not that Tahk would deny there is a risk, but he would accept it without hesitation. Confront it with his characteristic courage. He would get his stones and club ready for action, go down to the shore and be ready to fight and die. More likely, fight and win. But then he isn’t his father. Nor does he have any weapons. Tahk would have been so angry about that.
Since he doesn’t know what else to do, Dhi rests on a rock and looks down at the lake. And upwards, at the sky. It’s getting darker now: soon it will be black. Black. No, it won’t be like that tonight. The moon is already shining brightly. Not bright enough for the hunters to find their way through a dense forest. But certainly bright enough for him to continue his descent of an exposed cliff-face. Stand on the shoreline and hope to be seen by Wuhn across the shimmering, beckoning water.
So that’s what he will do. He will be quiet. Keep to the shadows. Only stand in the open at the last possible moment. And if he has to call out to Wuhn, he will keep his voice down. The hunters won’t be expecting him to do this. They won’t be expecting anything.
It takes him longer than planned to get down to the shore. Even then, he only manages because he double checks every hold. More importantly, he doesn’t look at anything – doesn’t think of – anything other than where to put his fingers and toes. How can he when one slip might lead to his death? Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice the first of the clouds.
But there is something else he hasn’t allowed for. And that might have an even greater impact on his hoped-for success. The wind has become stronger.
His old plan is now no good. That he knows. It’s too dark and noisy to be seen and heard by Wuhn. And yet not by the hunters. He needs a new one. But will it come to him as he looks at the clouds? The moon. The lake. Yes, the lake. Immediately in front of him, the water is now whipped up into broken rows of small crests and waves. They tumble over themselves, repeatedly collapsing and reforming, often catching the light of the moon before eventually receding from sight. But as soon as one disappears, another arrives. Further ahead, is a brooding shadow that he knows is the island. To both sides, the pebbly shoreline grates its way noisily into the sweeping curve of darkness. Behind, the forest sways and bends and complains even more as the wind gets still stronger.
He continues to watch, sometimes with focus and sometimes in distraction, just one thing among many, leaves and small twigs being blown out of the forest and onto the surface of the lake. Where they join the waves in their watery procession to an unknown destination. And larger pieces of wood, half in and half out of the water, jumping up and down in their desperation not to be left behind in the exodus from the shore. Watch with interest – so far with no understanding – but also listen. Above, to the trees. And behind, the call of birds, as they flap from branch to branch in a vain effort to find somewhere still to sleep.
The call of birds. It’s only to be expected at this time of night. In such a wind. Yet something is wrong. The call is too low down, too deep in tone, too much like uprights trying to sound like birds. Using the call of birds – and not their own voices – to talk to each other. To hide the fact they are there. Yes, that’s what he can hear. So it is as he feared. The hunters are still there.
Is the call of the birds a signal the hunters have spotted Wuhn? How can it be, when he still hasn’t seen her and he is that much closer? The call must be to show they have seen him. In spite of all his precautions. In spite of them knowing nothing of him they know he’s on the promontory. If that is the case, they are bound to come out of the trees and overpower him. Then what? Take him back to their camp, as he saw them do to the runaway? Kill him there and then. Judging by the increasing loudness and frenzy of the calls, the hunters are getting ready to do something. He must move before it’s too late: even Tahk wouldn’t just stand there and wait for a battle he cannot win.
His plan was greatly damaged before: now it is totally destroyed. It’s no longer a matter of saving Wuhn – he must first save himself. And that means he has to retreat to the safety of the cliff. Now the poor light and noise of the wind comes to his aid. At least they would, if he was able to get back to the track leading to the hill. But he has wandered too far from it. Allowed himself to believe he would be able to talk to Wuhn across the water. Thought more of what he will tell her to do, than, if he is discovered, what he might do himself. Somehow, he has allowed himself to end up in the same position as Wuhn and the runaway.
One thing is for certain: he can’t run into the lake. Not only can’t he swim, but what is even worse, he is frightened of water. At least, any water that is too deep for standing. He certainly fears it more than snakes, darkness, heights and all the things that take the strength from the muscles of some uprights. And yet are of no consequence to others. But nor can he go backwards, because then he will walk into the clubs of the hunters.
Where can he go? Not forward or backwards. Only to one side or the other. And that is no choice, because if he runs along the shoreline on the side of his cleaning hand, he will be going in the direction of the hunters’ camp and away from the clearing of his own clan. It has to be the other way, on the side of his throwing arm, along the shore that runs under the towering height of the cliff. Of course, he has no idea how far he can go before the shore and the cliff join up, as they surely will, or what hiding places there will be for him. But that is the way he will go. Before the moon turns the night into day.
As he runs, he looks towards the island again, just in case Wuhn is watching what is happening. To the other side, where the hunters will surely show themselves. And in front, where rocks as large as caves have tumbled down the cliff, making it impossible for him to climb upwards, and even worse, increasingly difficult for him to pick his way along the shore. So difficult, that long before he expected it, his progress is barred. So this then is where he has to hide.
But not behind the first massive boulder: to have any chance of outwitting those who will be pursuing him, he has to leave the shoreline well behind. Even if it means scrambling over stones and rubble, and jumping over gaps that could, if he misjudged the distance in the near-dark, so easily break a leg. The trouble is that if he does this, he will make a lot of noise – perhaps it can’t be avoided – and that will tell the hunters where he has gone. Just a breath. Isn’t there another chance? Not climb over the rocks, but walk around them. Even if it means getting wet. Confronting his fear. Do what he would rather not do, but do it in such a way, the lake will hide his trail. There will be no footprints, no dislodged debris and no sound. Before, the lake protected Wuhn. Now it’s going to protect him.
Water. He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t trust it. Knows it can kill. But so long as he doesn’t allow it to splash into his face, he will cope. The hunters will never expect him to do this.
He surprises himself with his progress. Not just his progress, but also his ability to combat his fear. Combat, but not overcome, in much the same way as he forces himself to challenge lions for the beast they have brought down. He is frightened of their teeth and claws, but that is less than another fear: the one resulting from being seen to fail in his duty to feed the family. So that now the water is up to his chin and would, no doubt, go into his mouth if he didn’t keep it shut, he is less frightened of a watery death than letting his female down. But something else is helping him. Something strange.
Compared with the rest of the lake, the water where he is, under the overhang of the cliff, is calm. So calm, that he is able to see and breathe without too much difficulty. So calm, that floating on the water in front of him and not blown out into the lake like so much else, are many uprooted trunks and broken branches. He can breathe, but he cannot walk any further. They are massive and heavy and in the way. The hunters might be behind. But the logs are in front. And he is caught between.
In order to steady himself, he grabs hold of a projecting bough. It dips under the water and that nearly makes him lose his footing. But it also comes towards him. He pulls it again. Now the great tangle of wood and leaf moves through the water and ends up resting against his chest. On land, he wouldn’t have been able to do that. Has the lake given him the strength of ten hunters? Or has the lake changed the trunks and their branches into mere twigs?
There is now no question of him turning back. Instead, he has another idea and that is to squeeze between what appears to be a floating forest and the unmoving rocks, and where there is no room, push it out of the way. Even though he never forgets his fear of water, he exalts in his new-found strength and the task is soon complete. He is through the obstruction and into clear water. Maybe the next stretch of the cliff will provide somewhere suitable for him to hide.
But Dhi wouldn’t be Dhi, if, in looking for a gap in the rocks, he doesn’t also glance in the other direction. Towards the trunks and branches bobbing up and down in the water, and now they are more in the open, being blown away from the shore. Yes, away from the shore. But also towards the island. Maybe Wuhn will soon be touching the very wood he has been handling. The thought gives him extra strength. Within a matter of breaths, he hauls himself out of the water and finds a dry, resting place. There is nothing more he can do until first light. He lies down to sleep.
*****
What wakes him up? The call of birds getting closer and in their collective excitement, sounding more like a pack of hyenas than any beast that might take to the air? The increasing howl of the wind. The anguished crying of a female on the island. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them, because when he sits up and listens carefully, all seems as it was before. Even so, he now knows something he didn’t know before. If he wants to survive – and more importantly – if he wants to help Wuhn, he has to move. The decision came to him in his sleep.
