Binding Of Isaac Rebirth Free Online

[Guilleuma Deeken]

Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from

Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1959.

Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that

the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Everyone should have known. They should have known as surely as thoughit were written in the curved palm of the wind. They should have knownwhen they looked up at the empty sky; they should have known when theylooked down at the hungry children. Yet somehow they did not know thattheir last migratory hunt was almost over.

The straggling band had woven its slow trail among the mountains forforty days of vanishing hopes and shrinking stomachs. Ahead of the mainparty, the scouts had crawled until their knees and palms were raw; butstill there was no track of game, and the only scent was that of thepungent air that rose from the ragged peaks of ice.

At last they halted, only a few footsteps from The Cave of the FallenSun, the farthest western reach of their frozen domain. In the rearof the column the women threatened the children into silence and thescouts went first to the mouth of the cave to look for signs of ananimal having entered. Presently the scouts stood up with their massiveshoulders drooping, turned to the rest and made a hopeless gesture.

Atanta, who stood alone and motionless between the scouts and therest of his band, knew that all were waiting for him to use hismagic to make a great leopard appear in the empty cave. "A verygreat leopard," he thought sarcastically. Enough to feed them allfor a hundred days. A leopard so huge it would whine pitifully whilethey killed it. A leopard so gigantic that it would not leave itsfootprints in the snow. Indeed, Atanta was sure, the leopard his peoplewanted would be much too large to fit into the cave. Well, perhapsthere would be a bird.

He held himself very tall and straight so that his dejection might notshow to either his people or his gods. But after forty days of thetrackless hunt, Atanta felt with certainty that the gods were deaf ordead ... or at least very far away.

The sun was hot and the gods were gone, and he would not keep hispeople waiting with false hopes. He closed his eyes and took up thecrude bone cross that hung from his waist, and he cursed the gods withsilent venom. And when his chastisement of the delinquent gods wasdone, he dropped the cross to dangle at his waist again.

How many caves had there been, Atanta wondered, since they left themouth of the river? Fully a dozen, always empty, except for thescattered bones of bears and men. Perhaps he should have kept hispeople at the river. No, he told himself. He had done the only thinghe could do. The season had been bad and their meager catch of fishcarefully stored. But the already heavy ice thickened with the approachof winter and made fishing almost impossible. When their supplies werealmost gone, he had done as so many had done before him. He had led hispeople on the futile hunt, hoping for the miracle of a dozen sleepingbears or a great white leopard. Such miracles had happened in the past.Once he had gone with his father on such a winter hunt.

Children began to cry. Women picked up their packs and slung themacross their shoulders. The men mumbled inaudible words that turnedinto whisps of smoke in the icy air. At Atanta's signal, everyoneentered the ice-floored cave, thankful at least to be out of theblinding brightness of the sun and snow, and into the soothing darkwhere they could rest.

Atanta stood while his people stretched their furry bodies out overthe frozen ground. He looked down at his woman who lay before him,watching him with her black eyes large and warm. It made his stomachclutch itself into an angry knot, to see her young face so drawn withexhaustion and hunger. There were lines in her face he had never seenbefore; the fur of her head and body had lost its sheen and was nowbrittle and dry. She patted the ice and motioned him to lie down besideher; but he turned his eyes away from her, because he knew that he musttell the others before he could rest.

How should he tell them? They were waiting now. Should he simply sayit swiftly and have done with it? Tell them that they had followed animpotent god until now they were to die? Surely he should prepare themsomehow. Prepare them for the importance of what he was to say.

"We are told of a time long ago, when the cave of man was filled withfood as the night is filled with stars, and the caves and the mencovered the five corners of the world. But these were not the cavesthat we know now. They were magic caves, and these were magic men. Themen of that long-ago world created the very mountains into which theydug their caves. The mountains they created raised their peaks throughthe highest clouds, and every mountain held countless caves ... cavesstuffed with bear and fish and captive winter winds. These were magictimes when every man was a priest. Every man could make fire blossomfrom nowhere and every man could fly through the air like a bird.

"All this was long ago when the world was young, and the world washot, and our people could live in the heat. But Nuomo the God of Nightbecame jealous of these magic men, for he had seen them fly into thenight itself in search of the stars. And so Nuomo wrapped his blackwings around the world and shook it for ten tens of days. The worldcracked and burst with flame that sprouted up into the darkened sky.The people ran in terror and their mountain-caves were sucked down intothe earth or burned into ash by the flame. At the end of the ten tensof days, Nuomo thought that all were dead and so he rolled a sheet ofice across the earth to cool it.

"Only one man was able to escape the wrath of that ancient god. He wasan old man with only little magic and he felt himself on the edge ofdeath. He look from his body a rib which he fashioned into a son. Buthe made the son in such a way that he could live upon the ice itself,as we do now.

"Only when the old man had gone to the star of rebirth, did the sonturn to his woman. Only then did he see that she had not been made inhis image, for she was hairless and delicate and not made to live uponthe ice. She was a Hotland woman. But the son, whose name was Dectar,took his woman whose name was Sontia, shielded her from the icy windsand comforted her as best he could. Some of their children had hairand loved the cold; some were weak and hairless and did not. In thosedays the hunting was good and the strong sheltered the weak, fed them,carried them on the long hunts. But Sontia was a jealous woman. Jealousof her strong husband and their offspring of his kind. She prayedto Ram, God of the Sun, and begged him to melt the ice. And so theice began to melt, leaving the Hotlands a paradise for weak selfishcreatures. Sontia deserted Dectar, taking with her those of theirchildren who were hairless and weak like herself.

"But the jealous sons of Sontia who swarm in the Hotlands were notcontent to see us perish year by year. Even to this day, if we shouldwander down to the edge of their domain to beg for a few scraps offood, they would answer our plea with death. And even in death theywould allow us no dignity, but would strip us of our hides and wearthem in mockery.

"It was I who first saw this god go across the sky." He held up thecross for all to see. "It went slowly like a bird from horizon tohorizon and I knew that it was not a bird for it did not flap itswings, but kept them still and outstretched. I believed it to be thegod who would fill our hunting trails with game, but now I know thatthis god is impotent. At worst it is a foolish god, lying somewhere onthe white floating ice of heaven, wallowing in idleness while my peoplestarve."

When he looked up the people were silent and unmoving. Perhaps he hadbeen a fool. Perhaps he had told them nothing they didn't know. Perhapsthey had already given up and knew that they would die here in the caveand that he could produce no magic to help them.

A sudden rage burned in Atanta's brain. The muscles in his square jawtrembled as he glared at the sprawling furry figures, who would liethere and die while they waited like children for him to provide forthe future.

The sun blazed hot upon the hair of his head and back as he traveledrapidly downward and away from his people in the cave. He traveled tooquickly to think of anything else but where his next footstep shouldbe, and within an hour he was at the edge of a great ice field thatstretched itself out before him like the footprint of a giant. Therecould be no more swift traveling now. Cautiously, he started out overthe empty plain, prodding the ice before him with his spear.

It was not that they were children. He knew that he had been wrong tojudge them so. There was nothing they could do. They had walked theirlives away on the long hunt that ended now without a sign or scent ofprey.

And he, Atanta, had led them. They were strong and loyal people, too,for if he ordered them up and back along the trail that they had come,each man would go without a word and hope that there was some magicAtanta had yet to use.

But the animals were gone and the gods were gone, and there was butone thing left. He would go down below this range where the Hotlanderswere known to be. Probably he would simply die in the sun. If not, theHotlanders would kill him on the spot, as they were usually so quickto do. The Hotlanders had good magic. Not as good as his ancestors',Atanta was sure. But still, they could kill a man from a greatdistance, simply by pointing a magic charm and making a certain noise.

The sun had tucked itself behind a white western peak when Atanta atlast came to the end of the ice field. Tired now, he crouched for amoment like a bird with his bottom sitting squarely upon his heels.Presently his tiredness became true exhaustion, so he dug himself alittle space in a shadowed snow bank and then covered himself with amound of snow.

While Atanta slept, a great lost bird came on the last feeble rays oflight, flapping its black wings because there was no wind to glide uponand there was no footing but the frozen ground. When above Atanta, thebird caught a slight scent in the air, held its wings stiff and tilteditself to glide in slow circles that became smaller and smaller andever lower until at last the bird's tired feet sank deep into the snowbeside the mound where Atanta lay. The bird folded its wings aboutitself and pecked at the mound, its beak digging cautious holes in thesnow. Atanta stirred slightly at this intrusion, and the bird drew itsbeak away and flapped its wings against the windless air and flew away.

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