Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country Read online

  WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT

  ZAN-GAH AND THE BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY:

  “I really liked the second book in the Zan-Gah series. It has a great plot line, and a lot of drama.”

  — Elan S., age 15

  “The author has painted a richly colored landscape and filled it with vibrant characters. Themes of forgiveness, dealing with hatred, brains overcoming might, and intense love for another person, add great depth to the story….Great material for high school students.”

  — Barry Crook, Library Media Specialist

  “I was completely caught up in Zan-Gah: A Prehistoric Adventure, and have now read the equally gripping sequel, Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country. Once again Shickman has provided a host of richly realized characters, a fabulous sense of place, and lots of action.… I found many parallels to today’s world, and thought on numerous occasions how this book could lead to great discussions with school groups. But in the end it is the rich characters and believable action that carry the day. Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country should find a ready audience with those who have enjoyed Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet, Watt Key’s Alabama Moon, or Michelle Paver’s Wolf Brother. A most worthy read.

  — Joe Corbett, School Librarian

  “Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country is an engaging, thought-provoking, and genuinely exciting novel. Allan Shickman has a definite gift for storytelling.”

  — Kurt S., ESL Instructor

  “I had not associated human virtues and failings to the primitive men and women who preceded the present day human race until my reading of Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country.”

  — Donald S., Court Administrator

  “Once I started reading Zan-Gah and the Beautiful Country, I couldn’t put it down! I had to see what Dael was going to do next!”

  — Donald L., Professor of Mathematics

  “Riveting.… Young and old alike will enjoy and be moved by this exquisitely written story.”

  — Gerard S., PhD, Psychology

  PRAISE FOR

  ZAN-GAH: A PREHISTORIC ADVENTURE:

  “Allan Richard Shickman’s Zan-Gah is a terrifically exciting adventure that will appeal to young adults and their elders too. Richly imagined and beautifully written, with characters and settings unlike any I’ve read, I believe Zan-Gah will be read and reread for many years to come.”

  — Scott Phillips, Best-Selling Author of The Ice Harvest and Cottonwood

  “Highly recommended for young adult library collections.”

  — The Midwest Book Review:

  Children’s Bookwatch

  “Zan-Gah is told with such verve, energy, and style that it will appeal to readers of all ages and sensibilities.… Shickman’s lively imagination is obvious on every page.… The power of Shickman’s words becomes apparent in the very first chapter.… heart-pounding prose … ”

  — Robert A. Cohn,

  St. Louis Jewish Light

  “I refused to turn off the lights because I was enjoying Zan-Gah so much, and the next day … I took it with me on the subway to get those last few pages in between Brooklyn and Manhattan. This 35-year-old loved it…I kept saying ‘I know it’s supposed to be a children’s book…but it’s really, really good!!!’”

  — Sadie N., Yoga Master

  “Zan-Gah is one of the best books I ever read … a truly gripping book. The characters are so real I feel like I know them. I give the book five stars. I could read it over and over.”

  — Sam L., age 13

  “We have given this book to all four grandchildren, ages 11, 14, 18, 22. Each of them loved it.… My husband and I are in our 60s—we loved it, too.”

  — Lou M., Grandparent

  “I liked Zan-Gah so much that I bought a copy for every student in the class.”

  — Rosalie B., Teacher and Volunteer

  “We love Zan-Gah at S. Middle School. It is always checked out of the library.”

  — Pat L., Library Media Specialist

  “My mom is always on me for not reading.… But I think I’ve found a perfect book for me, and that book is Zan-Gah.”

  — Marissa B., age 11

  “I always recommend books the entire family could read and discuss. Zan-Gah is the perfect book for boys, girls, teens, parents, and grandparents.… You will love it!”

  — Joan B., Middle and High School

  Reading Teacher

  “I am a nurse practitioner and my brain is always in diagnostic mode. Dael definitely has post-traumatic stress disorder and maybe a smidge of bipolar disorder. Interesting reading, in fact I think I’ll read it again.”

  — Johnette R., Nurse

  “It is refreshing to see a book of this quality published for pre-teens and teens. It is age appropriate in content, but still challenges the intellect of avid readers of this age group. I know several kids who will want to read Zan-Gah.”

  — Diane P., Editor

  FOR MY WIFE

  AND THE BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY

  BY ALLAN RICHARD SHICKMAN

  EARTHSHAKER BOOKS

  ZAN-GAH: AND THE BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY

  © Copyright 2009 by Allan R. Shickman

  Manufactured in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the author or his designated agent, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  ISBN: 978-0-9790357-1-5

  LCCN: 2009924462

  Published in the United States by

  Earthshaker Books

  P. O. Box 300184

  St. Louis, MO 63130

  All people, places, events and situations within this book are the invention and imagination of the author. Any similarities to anyone living or dead are purely coincidental.

  VISIT OUR WEBSITE AT WWW.ZAN-GAH.COM

  CONTENTS

  1 “IT IS TIME”

  2 PAX

  3 THE BRIDGE

  4 THE HIVE

  5 “WHAT HAPPENED?”

  6 RYDL

  7 THE TRAP

  8 A DECISION

  9 THE TREK

  10 THE GREAT SPLIT

  11 THE CRIMSON PEOPLE

  12 THE BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY

  13 THE FIRE-MOUNTAIN

  14 THE BRAID OF HAIR

  15 THE TUSKS

  16 DAEL’S POWER

  17 RYDL’S GARDEN

  18 SIRAKA-FINAKA

  19 FUNERAL PYRES

  20 DEPARTURE

  1

  “IT IS

  TIME”

  When Lissa-Na died, Dael wept real tears. No one blamed him—except for Dael himself, who was shocked at his own melting. Through his long, nightmarish captivity, suffering humiliation and torture at the hands of enemy peoples, he had never shed a drop. They had afflicted him in every way they could invent, both physically and mentally, for fully two years, but Dael never allowed tears to fall from his eyes—although he had been no more than a gentle, dreamy child at the time he was captured. Savage strangers had held this boy in a tiny cage and used him with whatever cruelty they could invent. It had been their sport! (No one who knows his gods should speak of these things.) But if they had hoped to break his spirit they failed. Dael stored his tears and gave his enemies no reward. Hidden within his softness was a staff of iron that he would never allow to bend. Yet he remembered every moment of his suffering and every occasion of his humiliation, converting each stifled drop to bitterness and bile.

  Before being seized by the wasp people Dael had been a mild youth—playful, lighthearted, a joy to his parents, and a happy companion t
o his twin brother, Zan. He had been known for his smiles. His captors—first the wasp people and afterwards the Noi—changed all that. For the wasp men did not keep him long, but eager for gain, sold him to the Noi, a desert clan.

  How had it happened? Dael had quarreled with Zan, and left in anger. After a time, wandering this way and that, he decided to search out the source of Nobla, the river that flowed and bubbled past their home. He and Zan frequently had contemplated this search as a joint project, but now he would go exploring without his stingy brother. All alone, Dael followed Nobla for an afternoon before, as night was falling, he was taken by the marauding wasp men. Disabled by a weapon tipped with a strange venom, the pain of it was so great that he was incapable of resistance—not that it would have done any good. Eventually the poison wore off, but there could be no escaping. He was at their mercy.

  For the first time in his life, Dael experienced unkindness. He did not understand the language of the wasp men, and could not even reply to their insults and abuse. There was something about his helplessness that inflamed men who otherwise were not entirely lacking in virtues. Even in his misery Dael could see that his captors lived well, but differently from his own cave-dwelling tribe. They modeled themselves after hornets, carrying stinging spears and building their hollow nests in the trees. They were as comfortable treading on a high limb as walking on the earth below. Looking downward on an enemy, they could swing or climb like apes to attack or defend.

  The wasps were a strong, agile, and vigorous people, wise in many arts. And never had Dael seen such a prosperous country. Their weakness was that they were aggressive and quarrelsome, dissipating their strengths and nobler projects through constant disunity. But they were united in their dislike of the “barbarian boy,” and had it not been for the sympathy of the women, would have made short work of their prisoner. Dael was tied to a tree while the men argued about what they should do with him. At length they decided to trade him to the Noi for a batch of eagle feathers. Then Dael’s troubles began in earnest.

  The wasp men had not kept him long, but the Noi did. The trek across desert sands nearly killed Dael, and as soon as the healing women had restored him (that was the first time he saw Lissa-Na), the Noi warriors undertook to break him once again. It became a game among them to see in which creative ways they could abase and humble their captive. Dael bore it all with a silent endurance that thwarted any pleasure and limited their cruel satisfaction. He simply would not show grief.

  Safely at home during this terrible time, Zan achieved honor by killing a lioness that endangered the clans. He was given a name of honor, Zan-Gah—meaning Zan of the Rock—because he had shown himself so stalwart and brave. But Zan-Gah was tormented by the loss of his twin, and went to look for him. That was a dangerous quest, and Zan nearly died searching the hostile land. Meanwhile, Dael suffered whole years of imprisonment and savage abuse before his twin brother could discover where he was.

  If Lissa-Na had not come to love the imprisoned boy, he would have died in his cage; but she helped him survive, and it was she who would secretly release him. However, before the brothers could get away together, Dael slaughtered one of his Noi enemies, crushing his skull with a single blow. Kind-hearted Dael a killer? It was over before Zan could do anything to stop the horrific act. Lissa-Na, who had let Dael go, would certainly be held responsible for the killing. So she had to leave too.

  The escape of Zan, Dael, and Lissa, rendered more urgent by the gruesome dead body at their feet, proved possible only because of Noi superstition. The Noi were terrified of twins. Swift warriors pursued Lissa and the brothers, but when they saw a “double man” they retreated as from double devils. They had not known that their prisoner was one of an identical pair.

  In the progress of their flight, the three were soon taken captive again, not by the Noi, but by their old foes—the wasp people. They were put in seclusion, and would have been hurled headlong to their deaths in a deep abyss but for a nighttime rescue by the gigantic Chul. The uncle of Zan and Dael, Chul once again proved himself faithful and strong—and wise when wisdom was required. He easily snapped the bars of their pen, and off they sped! Still, only with much difficulty did the fugitives return to their home. Only by facing much danger did Zan and his clansmen repel the wasp men’s subsequent invasion of their lands. When the fight finally was over, Zan-Gah was a hero; and Dael, it was plain to see, was much changed from his former self.

  A year or two of peace and convalescence followed. Dael and Lissa-Na married, and soon Lissa was with child. What happiness! The moon itself never looked on water as Dael’s eyes lingered on his pregnant wife. With eager anticipation he watched Lissa grow and her time approach. All of Dael’s sorrows were converted to joys, his deep psychic wounds gradually healing.

  Lissa-Na appeared to Dael’s people (the Ba-Coro) to have come from a different world—but they liked her. Her intelligence was remarkable, so that she easily untangled what could seem the most knotty problem, making the old men wonder. Her startling beauty rendered her unpopular with some of the women at first, but she was eventually recognized for the healer she was. Her very name meant Healer, and her skill was impressive.

  Then in childbirth, Lissa-Na died, and Dael’s heart died with her. Lissa’s sprightly distractions had kept Dael from his memories, enticing him from all the horrors of his past. How gently and with what exquisite tenderness she had coaxed him from his sorrows! She had fed him when he was hungry, nursed him when he was sick, and relieved him when he was oppressed. She had visited him in his agonized moments, and loved him when he could not love himself. And suddenly she was gone.

  Her death was horrible. Childbirth screams echoed from the damp cave sanctuary—forbidden to men—where women bore their young. Lissa’s baby finally came out like a fish, took one look at the world, and died. The mother followed an hour after. News was brought to Dael by a woman whose face was ever after painful for him to see. Lissa-Na never once had seen Dael cry, but now his eyes were wet and his face was swollen with grief, like a bawling child. His loss crushed his manhood more than all of his former miseries. After a while he was quieted, until soft and tender memories, rushing upon him, caused him to mourn his loss anew with heartfelt tears.

  Lissa’s red hair was still flaming when they laid her in a shallow grave. It had been her glory, and now, framing her ashen face and spreading down her neck and shoulders, it made a cushion for her dead baby. A neat layer of flat stones was placed on the grave to prevent hungry animals from digging up the corpses. Dael would have built a mountain of stone in her remembrance, but that sort of honor was reserved for men. It was not customary for a woman’s grave. A barrow would keep her spirit alive instead of allowing her to return to the earth of which she was a part.

  Afterwards, Zan-Gah saw the change—saw the dark nimbus descending over his brother. Dael ceased speaking. He gazed into empty space for long, unexplained periods, or at the fire, as if he were seriously contemplating throwing himself into it. He would not eat, and devoted himself entirely to brooding ruminations occasionally punctuated by facial twitches and wrathful expressions that came and went like glimmers of lightning in a storm-blackened sky.

  The climax came suddenly. Well past the middle of the night, Zan felt a shaking of his shoulder as he slept, and then an impatient foot kicking at him. Instinctively grabbing for his spear, he looked up and saw the orange glow of a torch, and as his eyes adjusted to the invading light he recognized his brother’s ghastly face. Zan understood at once what was happening. Dael’s dangerous brow was furrowed, and the vein of his forehead bulged under the old scar. Zan had not seen that expression for some time. His twin’s teeth were clenched, and his eyes darted nervously back and forth. His every motion expressed a profound agitation, and Zan knew that what he had been dreading had come.

  “It is time, Zan. Let us go!”

  “Where? It’s dark!”

  “I want to find where the river comes from.” In the orange light Dael
looked like a priest or a magician who mumbles his incantations to invisible spirits. He was scary.

  Thoroughly alarmed, Zan leapt to his feet. He knew what it meant. It meant that Dael could not endure his own thoughts and needed to escape—anywhere! It meant that he could not bear to be stationary. Even now Dael was pacing up and down like a madman.

  “I’m sleeping, Dael,” Zan said. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither should you.” He started to lie down. Dael kicked at him again.

  “Then I must go alone?” Dael’s face was frightful with emotion. He turned to leave.

  “No, wait,” Zan said. “I’ll go. But call Rydl too. And wait a little for the sun. We can’t go in the dark!” Zan was stalling.

  “What good is Rydl in manly matters?”

  “Still, I want him to come. What about Chul?”

  “No.”

  Fortunately, dawn would soon arrive. Even in the dark of night Zan was unable to restrain Dael’s urgent impulsion. Rydl approached, and at a glance comprehended the situation. That was why Zan wanted him around. Rydl was quick to grasp things. And he was a great friend; Zan never had a better. Rydl did not want to go who-knew-where in the middle of the night, but in a whisper Zan begged him to assist in controlling his brother. In his present state Dael was apt to walk off a cliff—or jump off.

  A new idea lit—or rather darkened—Dael’s face. “The wasp people have been quiet. They are planning something. We cannot live with this danger.” Even in his better days, those who knew Dael avoided mentioning either the wasp people or the Noi in his presence.

  “Which is it to be, Dael, the river or the wasp people?”

  “Come! Come!” was all Dael replied.

  Zan wished that he could get his brother to lie down and go to sleep. Bed would be balm to him, but never had Dael seemed so disinclined to rest. Zan tried to reason with him: “What do you seek, Brother? You don’t even know where you are going.”