9

CHUL

Each of us is a little different from anyone else, but Chul was much different. From his birth, his strangeness declared itself. He came from his gasping mother unusually large, red, wrinkled, and covered with hair like a baby ape. He howled in an unusually loud voice for a baby, and his face twisted as he cried. When the women showed the squalling newborn to his father, Bray, he looked at the creature and frowned so that his face was twisted too. Father and son, squinting and grimacing at each other, looked comically alike for a moment. Bray gave his new son the name Chul, which in fact meant Ape.

Poor Chul! All of his life people laughed at him. He was an ugly child. His eyes were too close together and his lower lip hung down stupidly over his almost nonexistent chin. His posture was never erect except when he rose to sniff the air for danger—or to whiff an animal roasting on a spit. To make matters worse, his nose had been broken early in life and twisted to one side. Add that he was thick of speech, spoke but little in his rumbling voice, and that he was as big as his father by the time he was nine years old. Growing up, he had a monstrous appetite, and for a time he was not allowed to eat until the others had gotten their share lest he eat everything! Yes, he was big for his age! What did he not shovel into his mouth whenever he could?

Chul’s comrades made fun of his size and awkwardness, and called him stupid to his face. Chul only laughed along with them, until one older youth made the mistake of throwing a stone at him. Lout that he was, Chul was not too stupid to resent this obvious insult, and the smile vanished from his face. Seizing the foolish lad, Chul lifted him over his head and threw him about ten feet. It was fortunate for the youth that he landed in a soft mud puddle instead of on the hard rocks, but even so he was sufficiently hurt. Then the “ape” was sorry he had injured him, and later they made friends. It was not in Chul’s easygoing nature to bear grudges.

If ever a man was a hodgepodge, it was Chul. He was a strange and preposterous mixture of good and bad, but on the whole his goodness was dominant. As is often the case with unattractive people, Chul had concealed virtues: a generous heart, courage, fierce loyalty, and sometimes insight. The time was coming when his clan would be grateful for these qualities—as well as for his physical might.

Chul’s strength was legendary before he was a man. He once wrenched by the horns a young bull too frisky for three men to subdue, breaking its neck with a loud crack, so that the entire clan could feast on its carcass like a pride of lions. It was said that Chul could wrestle down a stag single-handed if he could only catch one—and eat it single-handed too! Fortunately he learned early to share, and in time came to be known for his generosity as well as his enormous appetite. He began losing the hair on his head before he was twenty, and some of his teeth soon thereafter. By that time the war among the five clans had begun again, ending a long period of quiet. Often the object of mockery, Chul would prove his value in the renewed fighting.

He took a leading part. Standing at least a head taller than his fellows, the very sight of Chul with a troop of warriors, or the mere sound of his wild battle cry, could rout an enemy troop of even greater size. He preferred the club to the spear, and had one that reached to his brother’s chest. It was a gnarled staff of hardwood that twisted and turned up to the great, spiky knob. Woe to the man who was struck with it! He would be unlikely to recover from the blow! Sometimes Chul chose to use the spear instead of this rude bludgeon. His spear was thick and heavy enough to support the roof of a shelter! No one would want these weapons. They were too large to use, yet Chul wielded them with ease and with terrible effectiveness.

In battle Chul had another advantage. He seemed almost impervious to wounds. A blow that might have been fatal to most men he returned again with deadly results. Once, when he received a serious hurt in the thigh, he went on hollering and fighting, and only drew out the spear embedded in his leg after his enemies had fled.

Soon after he killed the kinsman of Aniah, something happened in his mind. He had had enough of killing, and regretted the way he had ambushed the man without warning. From that time onward he refused to go looking for the enemy, and was only willing to fight if his foes came to him. The other men of the clan were less disposed to go on the offensive without their giant, and the conflict seemed to have burned itself out. In fact, it came to a stop for several years.

The invasion of the wasp men brought the clans together. They had to put aside their feud for their very survival, and turn their attention to a new enemy. It was fortunate that the wasp warriors had not come against them in full strength. As Zan was to learn much later, the alien clans were often at odds with each other. Had they cooperated together, their combined might would have overwhelmed Zan’s people before he and Dael were born. They had greater numbers and superior weaponry. Their poison spears did not need to kill to incapacitate, and even Chul, wounded slightly with a venomous point, was slowed down a bit—although he went right on fighting and bellowing his astonishing war-cry. Standing together, it had been possible to chase off the invaders. But that was an assault by only one of the several clans of wasp people. Perhaps one day they might return in greater numbers.

A period of peace followed, and Chul decided to get a wife. His feats on the field of battle would have recommended most men to the females of the clan; but it can be guessed how few of them wanted Chul for a husband! Luckily for him there was one. Her name was Siraka-Finaka, which referred to her small size. (Finaka means Wren’s Nest.) Chul could not pronounce her name, so he called her Aka. Standing on her toes, her nose just reached to his navel! But if she was small in size, she was mighty in spirit. Those she could not control with her physique she would quickly bring to bay with her energetic and dominating personality.

Chul did not choose Siraka-Finaka; she chose him—and once she did, Chul knew that he might as well not try to escape the marriage bed she had planned for him. Eventually they had three daughters whom Chul loved with all of his brute heart. With the coming of children his character softened considerably, and he did not resent the laughter that followed him; for what could have been more ridiculous than this giant being held strictly in line by his tiny wife, or more odd than the hairy warrior melting into tenderness when he held his baby girls and made baby sounds? He adored them; and was terrified of displeasing Siraka-Finaka, for his dull tongue was no match for her sharp one. Mighty Chul, who feared nothing, feared his woman.

When Zan-Gah decided to seek his brother, Chul suggested timidly to his wife that it might help if he went along. Siraka-Finaka would have hit him in the head if she could have reached it! But if she did not strike him with her small fist, she struck him with her tongue, and kept on striking too! Chul, she reminded him, had a family to feed and protect; and Zan-Gah would have to find his twin by himself. Later the subject came up again—with the same unpleasant result, but after a year went by and Zan did not return, both Thal and Chul were much concerned, and Chul once again suggested to his wife that he should seek news of Zan-Gah. The great ape, Chul, and his tiny wren-wife could be heard roaring and chirping for a long time that night. Finally Chul, tongue-tied with rage, picked up his spear and stormed out. Here was this dwarfish woman, a third his size (if that), ruling the roost and telling him what he could or could not do! His younger brother, Thal, would not have stood for it, and neither would he!