Free Zan-Gah: A Prehistoric Adventure by Allan Richard Shickman

take the youngster with him. When he came to the land of the wasp men they might be more willing to receive and help him if he brought back a missing child. That would be better than a gift. Zan asked Rydl to point where he thought he had come from. With some uncertainty, Rydl pointed toward Zan’s dwelling. No wonder he was lost!
    As the traveler prepared to depart, his new companion lost his fear of him and trailed after his footsteps likea puppy. Zan would have no trouble bringing the boy along. Zan had only a rough idea of his way, but that was more than Rydl could contribute, so Rydl followed Zan, a few paces behind. The young fellow did nothing but chatter, as if his long isolation and pent-up anxieties were terribly in need of release now that he felt out of danger. Zan could understand little of what he said, and even when the boy lagged well behind, and could not be heard anyway, still he talked and talked. Zan understood his need if not his speech, and was actually very glad to have company. He decided to attempt conversation, so he slowed down and allowed the lad to catch up with him. In a couple of days of travel across the grassland together, Zan could catch most of what was said because their languages were related—similar if not the same. Rydl was even quicker to pick up Zan’s words, and as each tried to use the other’s speech, they arrived at a workable mixture of their two languages.
    Nobla was again left far behind. The grassland gradually gave way to a different kind of growth, a rough shrub which dotted the land with dark green patches against a dusty soil. Then the soil itself changed to a different, redder hue. For two more days Zan and his companion trod this jagged and dusty terrain. There were no more trees, only the scruffy bushes and rocks. On the afternoon of the second day, when the weary repetition of footsteps hypnotized Zan into carelessness, he was violently brought back to himself by the sudden presence of an incredibly deep gorge, a split in the earth so profound that he could scarcely see the bottom of it. Its abrupt appearance was completely unexpected, andhe almost stepped in. That would have been the end of Zan-Gah! Zan lay down and peered over the edge. The gulch seemed bottomless. Cliff-dwelling birds could be seen flying within and crying around their nests, while a pair of enormous vultures with ebony wings outspread glided in ample circles over something dead below. The rock walls could not be climbed, and there seemed to be no passage across. At that moment Rydl, who had lagged behind, joined Zan. For the first time Rydl seemed to know where he was. “It is the cleft of the goddess,” he said with a tone of fear and respect. “This place is sacred. Bad people are thrown here, and traitors. They fall so far that none hear them land.” His eyes looked wild, and the wind blew in his hair.
    Sacred or not, it had to be traversed, but that seemed to present no problem to Rydl. There was a place, he said, where the chasm narrowed and where passage was possible. Zan could see the narrowing section once it was pointed out to him. Rydl said that he had been there once with his father, but was never allowed across himself—until he ran away and crossed it without permission. Invading wasp men used this passage, Zan surmised, when their warriors pressed into his land and fell upon his kinsmen.
    Zan was surprised to find in this leafless region a dead tree trunk stretched over the narrowest part of the gulf. It must have been dragged from some distance. Long since stripped of its bark, its silvered wood was gnarled and sinuous as dried meat, its fibers visible and distinct. The branches of this giant were mostly broken off, but bare stumps of them remained as handles to steady thetraveler against the wind and the disabling terror of the height. Rydl went first, almost dancing across with the careless ease of childhood. Zan reflected that the boy was too