One of the things Tlantar’s father had told him many times was that he should always be familiar and friendly with the other men of the tribe. “A chief can’t have too many friends.”
Given the circumstances of Chief Tladan’s death, however, Tlantar had some serious doubts about the wisdom of his father’s suggestion. Chief Tladan had been aware of the fact that his back and legs were not as strong as they’d been when he was younger, and even though he’d tried very hard to keep the other men of the tribe from realizing that his legs ached almost all the time, his limping had been very obvious when he’d been alone with his son. Given his condition, he should never have agreed to go to the hunt with his friends, but once someone had suggested it, he’d felt obliged to join in. Casual friendship might be nice, Tlantar admitted to himself, but it definitely wasn’t nice enough to die for.
Tlantar’s recent bereavement gave him a sound reason to distance himself from the other men of the tribe, so he made a point of maintaining a somber expression when he was in the presence of others and going straight to the point in his discussions with the men of the tribe. Even the more boisterous tribe members took him seriously. It seemed to Tlantar that even now Tleri was helping him.
Despite Dahlaine’s concept of “The Matakan Nation,” there were still periodic outbreaks of tribal war, and the usual reason for these outbreaks of violence had to do with what the Matans referred to as “poaching.” Tribes were supposed to do their hunting within the bounds of their own territory, but the bison were not even aware of boundaries, and once they’d been frightened, they would run, and the hunters who’d frightened them would run after them.
That started many arguments and quite a few wars. Tlantar took a rather stiff-necked approach in these situations, pushing aside the “hot pursuit” justification many nearby tribes tried to assert, and firmly announcing, “When you reach our boundary, you stop. If you don’t, we’ll fight you.”
It took several rather bloody demonstrations to convince the neighboring tribes that Chief Tlantar Two-Hands meant exactly what he said.
As time went on, Dahlaine continued to push the southern tribes toward what he called “Nationhood.” Tlantar, despite some serious reservations, met with the chieftains of several nearby tribes to examine the possibility, and his growing reputation helped to persuade them that Dahlaine’s peculiar notion might have a certain value. “If Dahlaine’s right—and he usually is—we have a much more dangerous enemy out there in the Wasteland,” Tlantar advised his fellow chieftains. “In the not too distant future, it’s very likely that hordes of creatures that aren’t anything at all like us will come up into our part of the world with the intent of killing us all. If the tribes remain separate and hostile to each other, our alien enemies will be able to take us one tribe at a time, and we’ll all be gone in a very short period of time. At that point, our little squabbles about who owns that particular herd of bison won’t mean much anymore. We must learn to live together, or we’ll die alone.”
It was not long after Tlantar had turned thirty-four when Dahlaine came into possession of an infant child he called Ashad. Tlantar had not the faintest idea of where the child had come from, and he was very disturbed when the local god advised him that he’d placed the child in the care of a she-bear called “Broken-Tooth.”
“As soon as she wakes up, she’ll eat your little boy,” Chief Two-Hands told his friend.
Dahlaine shook his head. “Oh, no, Tlantar,” he disagreed. “Mama Broken-Tooth will believe that Ashad is her cub, and she’ll destroy any creature that tries to hurt him. You don’t ever want to get between a she-bear and her cub. Ashad will be fed and protected by the most savage creature in the vicinity.”
“Well, maybe,” Tlantar said dubiously. “Have you been picking up any hints about when the creatures of the Wasteland are likely to attack us?”
Dahlaine shook his head. “Noting that’s very specific, Chief Tlantar,” he replied. “I’m getting a strong feeling that their attack is still several years away, though. They don’t really know very much about us, but they’ve been sneaking around in the forests of my sister’s Domain trying to find out as much as they can about her people. I’m fairly sure that they’ll attack Zelana first.”
“Will her people be able to drive them off?”
“We’re working on that. Keep talking with the other tribes, Tlantar. The time’s not too far off when they must be unified into a single Nation.”
“They’re starting to come around, Dahlaine,” Tlantar assured his friend. “I’ve been waving a few horror stories in their faces, and joining up with other tribes doesn’t seem quite as unnatural as it did before. When I start talking about thousands and thousands of enemies charging up out of the Wasteland, friendship between the tribes starts to look very nice.”
“It might look even nicer if you were to say ‘million’ instead of ‘thousand,’ Tlantar.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word before. How many is a million?”
“A thousand thousands, Tlantar,” Dahlaine replied.
“There aren’t that many of anything, Dahlaine!” Tlantar exclaimed.
“You’re wrong, I’m afraid. There probably isn’t a word that even begins to describe how many of those creatures are really out there in the Wasteland. Keep working on the other tribes, Chief Two-Hands. The time isn’t too far off when we’ll need all the help we can get.”
Tlantar realized that the more tribes he had loosely joined together in his rudimentary “Nation,” the more anxious the still-independent tribes would become. In theory, at least, Tlantar could bring several thousand warriors to any battle that might arise. Tlantar didn’t make a big issue of that, but he was certain that the other tribal chieftains could count almost as well as he could.
Dahlaine’s little boy had grown teeth, so he no longer lived on a steady diet of bear’s milk. He still spent much of his time playing with the bear-cub he called Long-Claw, but after a couple of years he found a new friend in the village of Asmie. His human friend was a boy called Tlingar, and the two of them seemed to get along fairly well.
It was when Ashad was five or six years old that Dahlaine came by in the early spring to advise Tlantar and the other tribal chieftains that the creatures of the Wasteland had invaded his sister Zelana’s Domain. Dahlaine was a bit vague about the outlander armies that had come to Zelana’s Domain to help with the fighting, and he also glossed over a couple of natural disasters that had proved to be quite helpful. “I think you’d better order your assorted soldiers to practice with their spear-throwers, Tlantar. They work very well, but our people will be much safer if they can throw their spears farther.”