“Speak,” Skarl said. “Tell us your lies. Go on. Let us see how fanciful of a tale you can spin. It might prove entertaining.”

  I did the best I could. I told them exactly what had happened to me in Antarctica with the Krekelens, psi-masters and how I’d lost Livi.

  “You had a woman?” said one of the younger guys by the name of Zog. He had a bone talisman—a little hammer—hanging from his throat by a leather cord. “You had a woman and you let her go? You let her do that to you? Why would you not stay with your woman? Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a woman.”

  I gave Zog a strange look. The guy was lovelorn, a horny Neanderthal lusting for a woman.

  That was the first time Skarl eyed me in a wondering manner. He also scratched the scraggly red beard of his.

  “Continue with your tale,” Skarl said.

  I told them more about Antarctica, the THOR missiles, the subterranean place and the obelisk I used to reach Garm. I told them how I’d arrived at Garm in the ziggurat with the stone statues surrounding it.

  “If all this is true,” Skarl said, “don’t you think it odd Krull should have met you so soon upon your arrival? You spoke of booms and lightning. We did hear and see them several days ago. We didn’t know what it meant. You claim the ziggurat caused that?”

  “Yes, exactly,” I said.

  “Know then that the First Folk would certainly have understood the signs.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said. That made sense.

  Skarl nodded sagely. “It is clear then. They were using Krull. Maybe they used him to learn about you. Maybe they were using him to learn about the fabled Yellow Knives.”

  “Fabled?” I asked.

  Skarl nodded.

  I frowned. Here I’d been thinking Krull had been a good guy. But if he really worked or helped maintain the transfer machine—only the most trusted Neanderthals would be allowed to work or even be near it. Is that why the flying saucer had beamed Krull up? Had the saucer team brought their spy in from the cold? Had the First Folk wondered who was using a ziggurat and Krull had been the way to find out? That seemed like such a stupid way to do it, though. Why not capture and interrogate me?”

  Hmm, Philip had been a smart boy. Sometimes, clever people have elaborate plans that are far too clever when it would be simpler just to do the easy thing. Sometimes, smart boys refuse to do it the easy way so they can try a super complicated, crazy plan. It was like those old Batman TV episodes I’d watched as a kid. The super villains had these elaborate, stupid ways to kill Batman, tying him up with a bomb set to go off at the stroke of midnight. That allowed Batman the opportunity to escape. The right thing would have been putting a bullet in Batman’s brain if you hated him that much.

  Clearly, I didn’t know the full story of Garm. If I could get these guys to talk, I’d learn a whole new angle.

  Thus, I continued my tale and told them everything I could, every detail. Somewhere in the middle of my story, Skarl nodded at one of the others.

  That one worked on the knots on my wrists and undid them.

  My shoulders—I almost yelled in pain, but I realized with these tough dudes that I’d better not do that. I massaged my shoulders and rubbed my wrists.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate that. Some grub would help, too.”

  Skarl nodded.

  Zog threw me a hunk of beef or meat of some sort. I don’t know if it was beef. I tore into it, eating big chunks and getting grease on my face.

  The Neanderthals muttered in approval, glancing at each other as if maybe I wasn’t such a bad fellow after all.

  My bad table manners seemed to impress them. I’d remember that.

  I looked at Zog, thinking about his interests earlier.

  “Before I continue,” I said, “you guys really don’t have any women. You don’t have any mates back in camp?”

  “What camp?” Skarl said. “This is our camp. We are a unit.”

  “You’re not a tribe or clan?”

  “No,” Skarl said with anger. “We’re fellow warriors existing free, free on the plains. Wild ones you call us. Bah, finish your tale before I have you retied.”

  I kept on with my story and I continued thinking even as I told it. Finally, I concluded how I’d raced all night across the plains, fleeing from the Smilodons.

  “You saw the result,” I said. “You saw what happened with the great cats.”

  “It is an interesting tale,” Skarl admitted. “Your strange appearance, these weapons and this talk of the ziggurat and moving between planets… There is an old legend I remember hearing of something of that sort. But if it is true, your planet is filled with people like yourself, men and women. The First Folk do not control you?”

  “They do not,” I said. “One of them came to our planet before. Last journey—”

  “Last journey?” Skarl said, interrupting.

  “I’m a Traveler, remember? Certain people can travel between planets. Why I can do it and others can’t, I don’t know. But the Harmony was shattered long ago. The First Folk are trying weird stuff. Zero Stones are trying stuff. There are even Ophidians on another planet who eat guys like you.”

  “What?” shouted Skarl. “You dare to threaten to eat me?”

  “No, no,” I said. “Forget I said anything about the Ophidians. Let’s stick to the point. I hate the First Folk. I used the phasor to destroy a saucer and kill at least one of them. I also shot down a drone. The rest of the flying saucers took off, taking Krull with them. Then they sent the great cats with the antennas sticking out of their skulls. That’s another thing. The antennae on the great cats—are the beasts intelligent? Did the First Folk make the big cats intelligent?”

  “Yes, of course,” Skarl said. “That’s obvious. The great cats communicate with each other like the People. It is a great sacrilege to have made animals into People.”

  “I agree with you there.” I remembered reading The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells. The First Folk hadn’t made the Smilodons human-shaped, but it appeared as if they’d given the great cats greater intelligence. “Did the First Folk do that in order to keep you down in the mines?”

  “Yes, yes. We were slaves long ago, all of us, but each of us has escaped. We have become free. We do as we please. Still, as Zog has told you, we don’t have any women.”

  Skarl eyed me closely.

  “Must be lonely,” I said.

  Skarl ignored that. “The Yellow Knives are different. Legend says they escaped with several women. Over the years, they have had children. Some of those were girl children. They grew to maturity and continued to reproduce. We all long to find the Yellow Knives. We all long for mates. Do you think we enjoy this bachelor life?”

  The others stared intently at Skarl.

  “Oh, certainly,” Skarl said, “it has its pleasures. We are all great warriors. We would never go back to the mines even if they gave us women as the prize.”

  Skarl stared at Zog, as he said that.

  Zog looked down.

  I think Zog would have gladly gone back to the mines if he had been given a woman. Clearly, Krull had been a plant, giving me the wrong idea about what was going on here. The First Folk were even worse than I thought. The Neanderthals were slave labor. That was wrong. I had to do something to help these guys and help myself at the same time.

  “Maybe it’s time to change things up,” I said. “We have my phasor. I have a few bullets left for the automatic. We know what we need to do.”

  “What is that?” Skarl said.

  “Gather the rest of the free tribes. Are you the only guys on the plains?”

  “Of course there are others,” Skarl said. “How do you think we got our dire wolves and had them trained? Do you think we have the time for that?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. The point is we should get all the other bachelors on the tundra—”

  “We do not live on the tundra,” Skarl said interrupting. “The tundra is unlivable. We live in the various valleys.”

  “Okay, right, right. I got that. I just arrived, remember? Even so, I’ve faced the First Folk before and defeated them.”

  “Are you a braggart?” Skarl said, “Defeated them how?”

  I gave them a brief account about what happened in the Chaunt System.

  “You found a woman there?” Zog said. “Is this the same woman that betrayed you later in Antarctica?”

  “Yeah, I guess so, Zog. You don’t have to rub it in.”

  Zog grinned. “He had a woman. He had a woman. What a tale. This is amazing. Tell me more about your woman.”

  “Not just yet,” I said. “What’s his deal, huh?”

  “Zog longs for a woman,” Skarl said. “We all do. Your idea of storming the mines has merit. Yet, how can we storm the mines? How can we face the weapon of the First Folk which can cut us down with ease the way you destroyed the flying saucer with your phasor?”

  “Aren’t there any places with old weapons?” I asked. “A place where you could collect them?”

  They all glanced at each other.

  “Hey, I’m not a spy,” I said. “I don’t have any implants in me. There’s no antenna sticking out of me. I’m just saying, if there’s a chance for these kinds of weapons, I think we should arm ourselves with them and storm the mines. What do you say, Skarl?”

  “I believe he’s a spy,” Zog said. “He’s tantalizing us with these tales of women, but they are forbidden us. We cannot ever have a woman. We will die like all the others here on this windswept steppe, as he calls it.”

  “No,” Skarl said. “I think it’s time we took the outlander to the Old One, the Wise One, and ask him what he thinks about all this.”

  “There you go,” I said.

  Skarl gave me such a vicious look that I shut my yap.

  Anyway, they looked at each other. They muttered a bit, and then Skarl said, “We will do it. It is a long journey to the Old One. Are you truly willing to help us if we’re able to acquire these weapons of war?”

  “Dude,” I said, “that’s what I am. I’m a Marine, a fighter.”

  “Ha,” Skarl said, “yes, maybe with your special tech weapons, but do not make us laugh and try to get us to believe that you could face any of us hand to hand.”

  There was a retort and an insult on the tip of my tongue, but I decided now wasn’t the right time to say it. There would come a moment, I had a feeling, when Skarl and I were going to scrap. Then he’d learn exactly who he was dealing with.

  -17-

  We left the sod-built camp after an hour of resting and marched toward the mountains in the distance. The wind started blowing again, although it didn’t blow as strongly as it had in the middle of the tundra or near the ziggurat.

  The Neanderthals didn’t speak much on the march, though several began to hum practically right away. They didn’t sing, but continued their hum, and when some stopped, others continued. Someone always hummed while we marched.

  I imagined it had religious or superstitious connotation—not that I’m saying both are the same. If a people lacked a religion—something unrecorded in human history—they’d likely be filled with grotesque superstitions as compensation.

  The Neanderthals didn’t march as fast as I would have expected them to go. It soon occurred to me that Neanderthals were similar to the Smilodons and dire wolves. They were all robust and stoutly built: more likely to be stronger rather than faster or nimbler.

  Even though I was a muscular and brawny fellow, much taller than the Neanderthals were, I was quite a bit leaner, in the sense that a wolf or a lion would have been compared to a dire wolf or Smilodon.

  The Neanderthals on ancient Earth had probably been creatures of the Pleistocene just like woolly mammoths, saber-toothed tigers and dire wolves. Therefore, the Neanderthals on Garm couldn’t travel as quickly or go as far as humans in good condition could.

  These Neanderthals were similar to Bok and the others on Saddoth. Bok’s Neanderthals had been larger and hairy. How would the Garm Neanderthals relate to those on Saddoth? Why were there these peculiar differences? It would seem the hairy Neanderthals should have been on Garm rather than Saddoth.

  Poor Bok—how was he doing? Did the Ophidians still eat Neanderthals, in essence, human flesh? I was going to have to do something about that. I’d given my word to Bok, and that needed to mean something.

  That got me to brooding. Since many Earthers had some Neanderthal DNA—tiny fractions, really—how different could we be?”

  As I’d stated earlier, a horse and a donkey weren’t that different, yet their offspring were sterile. Children from Neanderthals and Homo sapiens had reproduced, obviously so, because there was some Neanderthal DNA in humanity on Earth. That showed we weren’t a different species like a horse and donkey.

  Maybe it was more like a Rottweiler versus a Greyhound. Both could breed with each other. Both were dogs. Yet they were quite different the one from the other: one a heavy guard dog, the other a lean racing hound.

  In any case, though the Garm Neanderthals weren’t swift marchers, they continued for many miles without stopping. I was tired, as I’d been marching all night. Still, the food and drink, and that I was no longer hunted as prey, had invigorated me. Thus, despite my state, I found it easy enough to keep up with them.

  As I’d mentioned earlier, they hummed mile after mile after mile, and the mountain range steadily drew closer. Soon, the wind ceased from that direction, the mountains a windbreak. What a blessed relief.

  In places ahead of us, I saw patches of bare ground with dried grasses and scrub bushes showing. I saw antelope-like creatures browsing in the distance. I didn’t see any dire wolves, Smilodons, woolly mammoths or mastodons, though.

  I began to ponder the presence of the eight dire wolves. Skarl said they’d received them from a different group. What kind of group would raise dire wolves that would attack on command? The wolves hadn’t attacked fitfully or with hesitation, but with eager ferocity. What did that signify?

  As I thought about it, the meaning soon became evident. The dire wolves had been well trained, as superbly trained as any animal on Earth…perhaps even under the Romans. They’d trained animals better than anyone had. I’d read that the Romans had trained lions to chase down rabbits, grab them in with their jaws and bring them unharmed to the feet of spectators.

  There was another thing. How had the other group had enough surplus dire wolves to trade eight finely trained specimens? That seemed like far too many.

  I approached Skarl, which mandated my change in the line of march. We traveled Indian file, one man at a time, each following the other. I no longer did, but walked beside the chief, or leader.

  “I have a question,” I said.

  Skarl glanced at me, perhaps with astonishment. They hadn’t talked as they marched, only hummed. Even so, Skarl nodded sharply.

  “Before, you told me you traded the dire wolves with others. What others train dire wolves that well? And what did you possibly trade in exchange for such superb beasts? Furthermore, why did you have them with you? And why did you throw them away so easily? None of you has shown any dismay over their loss. That seems odd to me.”

  Skarl studied me as we marched. “Yes,” he said. “Yes,” he said once more. But he didn’t elaborate.

  “That’s it?” I asked. “That’s your answer?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Tell me this then,” I said. “What did you trade for the dire wolves?”

  Skarl stared at me. “You’ll have to wait to discover the answer. We’re approaching an outpost. Perhaps the Wise One will agree to tell you.”

  I frowned, moving back to my spot in the single-file line.

  The more I thought about the eight dire wolves racing at the Smilodons, the more it seemed wrong that there was a specific group of bachelors training dire wolves, giving eight beautiful beasts to Neanderthals like this. Could Skarl have traded food, stone-tipped spears? That didn’t strike me as an even trade. What particular skill did these nine Neanderthals have that was so critical they could trade with others? Would they trade my phasor? Would they trade the Colt or the special glasses?

  Speaking of, why hadn’t Skarl used the glasses or at least experimented with them? That was all odd.

  I kept the thoughts to myself, pondering them, debating on what would happen next.

  Several miles later, armed with a new insight, I rushed up to Skarl.

  “I have another question.”

  He looked at me and nodded, not as sharply as before. Maybe he was getting used to my ways.

  “Is there any other monumental architecture nearby: an obelisk or pyramid or ziggurat somewhere else?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m a Traveler, remember?” I said. “To leave your world I’ll need something other than the ziggurat with the statues. The ziggurat was a landing spot, not a launching spot.”

  “Ah. Perhaps your story is true after all. Yes, there is another monumental piece of architecture. But it is on the other side of the valley of the mines.”

  “The First Folk mines are in the center of the valley?”

  Skarl nodded.

  “That means I’m going as far away from it as I can right now, heading in the other direction?”

  “Yes,” Skarl said. “Do you wish to leave Garm?”

  I thought about that. He obviously meant: do you want to leave Garm now? Where would I go now? To Livi’s planet in the Vega System? That would depend on if a psi-master had changed her mind for her. I certainly didn’t want to go back to Earth now. What would I do in subterranean Antarctica? Perhaps the Krekelens and psi-masters were making it their secret base. Maybe going there would be the worst thing I could do. The only way to go there would be armed to the teeth and with help. Besides, there might even be nuclear devastation on Earth. If that were the case—

  “I’m not looking to travel just yet,” I said. “I want to see Garm first. I’m eager to help you guys against the First Folk.”

  Skarl snorted. I don’t think he believed me about the last. However, I don’t think he disbelieved my entire tale, either.