by J. T. Edson
In addition to continuing the blanket training, Dawn and Bunduki had worked at accustoming the quaggas to being caught by a thrown lariat. Judging from the way the animals had shown an understanding of the futility of fighting against the constriction of a running noose, the knowledge must have been inherited through experience gained during generations of domestication. Or, considering that they had progressed to the inclusion of a saddle by the early afternoon, there could have been another reason.
To have achieved so much in such short time was, as the girl and the blond giant had appreciated, remarkable. In fact, they realized that all of the quaggas’ behavior since capture was extraordinarily fortunate as far as their own needs were concerned. Not only had there been little sign of aggression, but the animals were already beginning to respond to the names, ‘Isabel’ and ‘Shambulia’. Certainly the latter had never shown any inclination to carry out the instruction, ‘attack’.
While the quaggas’ acquiescence might have stemmed from a recent acquaintance with human beings, Dawn and Bunduki had grown increasingly convinced that it was more likely to be the result of mental conditioning by the ‘Suppliers’ who had already proved that they could influence the behavior of wild elephants. In which case, having anticipated their protégés’ need for reliable and superlative means of transport, they could have arranged the meeting. The Earth couple had been intended to see and capture the quaggas, which in turn had been prepared so as to make training them a less difficult and more speedy process than it would have been in their natural state.
For all their summations, Dawn and Bunduki had refused to be lulled into a state of over-confidence or complacency. They had felt sure that there must be a limit to the shortcuts their benefactors had made possible. So, instead of mounting personally when the quaggas had no longer shown any reluctance in bearing the saddles, they had contented themselves with placing sacks filled with soil on their backs. Watching the way in which the burdens were sent flying, they had considered their caution was well justified. So they had persevered with the same tactics until the disappearance of the sun had brought the day’s work to an end. By that time, both animals had been growing tractable when carrying the loads.
Up until halfway through the fifth morning, Dawn and Bunduki had continued to implant the idea of accepting a weight on the saddle. When they had decided that the lesson had been absorbed, they had surprised Joar-Fane and At-Vee by leading the quaggas from the corral. Descending from the tree house’s porch, the Telonga couple had followed as they led the animals to the shore of the lake. Reaching a point where the bank was firm and level sand with no rocks or other obstructions to mar its surface as it sloped gently into the water, they had halted to commence the preparations which had provoked the Hunter’s question and brief interplay of comments between the girls.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ Joar-Fane remarked, trying to conceal her concern by adopting a tone of an unspoken, “But I doubt it”. Little as she knew about such things, she guessed that what was going to happen next could be dangerous. ‘After I spent all that time wading in a cold stream and looking after your banar-gatahs, I’d hate to see those two get away.’
‘I’ll try my best to see it doesn’t happen,’ Bunduki promised, fastening one end of the stout rope he had brought from the tree house to the saddle horn.
‘Huh!’ the little Telonga girl sniffed. ‘If you’re going to try your best, Shambulia is as good as on his way back to the Land-Without-Trees.’
‘I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have stopped the “Hairy People” taking you either time.’ xxxiv Bunduki replied, knotting the other end of the rope around his waist. Then he took out his knife and passed it to At-Vee continuing, ‘Oh well, I may as well make a start and see what happens.’
‘You’ll make a fool of yourself as usual,’ Dawn stated, but the words did not fool her friends. They knew she shared their anxiety. ‘Go ahead. Then I’ll show you how to do it properly.’
‘I’ll never know why you went to fetch her back, brother,’ At-Vee commented, wondering what would happen when Bunduki mounted and drawing some comfort from the thought that the sand would be softer to land on than the ground in the corral.
Much to Joar-Fane’s and At-Vee’s surprise, although the latter had deduced one of the reasons why the location had been selected, the blond giant did not mount immediately. Instead, grasping the one-piece reins which were now attached securely to the bosal of the hackamore, he started to walk slowly into the lake. It said much for the confidence which had already developed between them that Shambulia began to follow him with little hesitation. What small reluctance was shown ended when Bunduki gave a softly spoken order in the simple language of the Australopithecus. Experience had taught him this could be understood better by the stallion than English or the lingua franca of Zillikian’s human population. The word-sounds were accompanied by a gentle, yet commanding, tug on the reins. Stepping after him, Shambulia advanced until standing belly deep in the water.
‘Good luck, darling,’ Dawn breathed, knowing why her husband-to-be had waded in so far.
Aware that he was almost certain to have a fight on his hands when he mounted the big stallion, Bunduki had accepted the need to take precautions. So he was employing two techniques practiced by, among others, the Comanche Indians of the United States. They were calculated to lessen the danger of injury to himself and the animal, as well as reducing the chance of Shambulia’s escape if Bunduki was thrown.
Authorities in all matters equestrian, the Nemenuh xxxv warriors had discovered that to submerge an unbroken horse until the water was lapping around its belly reduced its mobility and rendered it less capable of bucking. Even if it should succeed in pitching off the rider, his landing would be cushioned by the water no matter how awkwardly he fell. Furthermore, as they were connected by the rope, the animal’s flight would be impeded by having to drag him along and it would be more readily recaptured.
There might be, the blond giant realized as he grasped the saddle horn and found the near side wooden stirrup with his left foot, a chance that the same did not apply where a quagga was concerned. However, he had never been a man to be held back by vague doubts, possibilities, or uncertainties. So, throwing a grin at his wife-to-be and friends, he swung himself astride the saddle.
For a moment, nothing happened!
Having grown to accept a weight being placed upon the alien object which was attached to his body, at first Shambulia noticed only that this one was considerably heavier than its predecessors. Then the burden moved and he realized that it was alive.
The realization provoked an immediate and instinctive reaction!
Letting out an explosive snort of mingled alarm and anger, the big stallion did not wait to try and discover what kind of creature was sitting on him. Instead, he set about making a determined effort to fling whatever it might be from its perch. Even though hampered by the depth of the water, the spine-arching bound he made was not to be despised. Rising until his hooves were inches clear of the surface, on his way down, he kicked upwards with his hindquarters. Known in rodeo circles on Earth as ‘bucking straight away’, such a tactic was, on occasion, exceptionally effective. However, for it to succeed, the rider’s rump—having been lifted well above the saddle—had to descend upon the cantle rather than returning to the seat. xxxvi
Alert to the peril, Bunduki used the tremendous strength of his thighs to prevent his displacement. However, Shambulia’s next attempt was to rear on his hind legs and, as the blond giant was still using a bosal, this was far more difficult to control than if a metal bit had been employed. Desperate measures called for just as desperate counter-measures. So, keeping the reins in his left hand as it also grabbed the saddle horn, he delivered a slap to the top of the stallion’s head with his right hand. Startled by the unexpected assault, Shambulia brought down his forelegs and took off again in another ‘straight away buck’ which proved no more effective than his first.
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br /> Refusing to be put off by his three failures to dislodge the blond giant, Shambulia continued to fight with unabated determination and vigor. Possessed of the ideal physique for such an effort—being large, very powerful and forceful in his actions—he concentrated upon the high-rising, plunging bounds of ‘bucking straight away’ with only an occasional variation of ‘chinning the moon’, xxxvii to break the monotony. He was considerably hampered by being forced to fight in an unnatural element for one of his species and repeatedly sought to correct this.
In spite of the limitations imposed upon him by relying only upon the bosal as a means of control and guidance, Bunduki’s skilful manipulation of the reins and his weight combined to prevent the stallion from regaining dry land. Nor, for all of Shambulia’s dependence upon only two tactics, did he find the battle monotonous and easy. In fact, delighted as he was by his success in remaining astride the saddle, he was far from sorry when his expertise and bodily bulk contrived to exhaust and bring the stallion’s struggles to an end.
‘There you are, Kichwa Mkubwa,’ xxxviii the blond giant said, addressing Dawn triumphantly if breathlessly, as he guided Shambulia ashore and dismounted. The faces of the girl and the two Telongas were flushed with the vigor they had expended upon yelling encouragement that he had been too occupied to notice. ‘That’s how it should be done. Let’s see if you can do anywhere near as well with Isabel.’
‘Kichwa Mkubwa yourself!’ Dawn replied, with a disdainful toss of her head, but unable to conceal her elation at her husband-to-be’s victory. ‘Stand back and watch an expert show you how it doesn’t need all that splashing and fuss to win.’
For all her comment, the girl knew that she would need to call upon all the strength and equestrian ability she possessed if she was to be equally successful.
Chapter Eight – Take That Woman Alive
Even as the stricken banar-gatah rider twirled on his heels and fell, his hands clawing ineffectually at the arrow piercing his throat, an understanding of what was happening began to seep into the exhausted thought processes of the Protectress of the Quagga God. She became aware that the killing of the warrior was not an isolated phenomenon. In fact, gazing back and forth as she clung to the lance as an aid to fending off the waves of dizziness which were threatening to engulf her, she found that a full scale and very effective attack was being launched almost simultaneously upon the rest of Elidor’s unsuspecting supporters.
As was the almost invariable habit of male Mun-Gatah warriors when beyond the walls of their homes (the only exception being when they were dealing with the pacific jungle dwelling Telongas) the men were clad in round metal helmets, specially prepared rhinoceros-hide breastplates, thick leather kilts with slits at the front and rear for ease when mounted, stout greaves and sandals of the same material. All had swords for defensive purposes sheathed on their belts, which they supplemented by lances and war-axes. However, the former type of offensive weapon had been left either stuck into the ground alongside its owner’s mount or was suspended by a loop at the point of balance being passed around the saddle horn and the butt in a metal ‘shoe’ on the right stirrup iron. The axes were also hanging from their users’ rigs and were unavailable for immediate use.
Not that any of the warriors was granted an opportunity to arm and defend himself!
Taking advantage of the fact that the men had been so completely absorbed in watching the fight between the two women, their assailants had approached as near as possible without alarming the gatahs which were trained to act as lookouts. At such close quarters, the otherwise effective protecting clothing offered little of the usual safeguards against the weapons of enemies.
While the breastplates could withstand the arrows from all bows except those of the mysterious “Earths”, xxxix and the helmets offered resistance to most weapons, long experience had taught the other warrior nations how to circumvent the advantages of the Mun-Gatahs’ garments. One weak spot, although only practical from a short distance, was the gap between the bottom rim of the helmet and the collar of the breastplate. Small though it might be, as was demonstrated by the killing of the banar-gatah rider and two more of the men with arrows, the exposed area was vulnerable.
Hissing and twirling through the air at great speed, two curved pieces of wood felled the fourth and fifth warriors. One was struck at the rear of his helmet, which suffered a deep indentation. His head was slammed forward and there was a sharp pop as his neck was broken. Caught in the middle of the back, the breastplate—which was thinner at the rear—proved no protection and the other went down with his spinal column snapped.
Nor did the last man fare any better. The cause of his death was a circular disc of metal shaped like two saucers stuck together, about six inches in diameter and with a hole through the middle. Skimming along at a gentle downwards angle, it struck the ground some feet to his rear. The convex curve caused it to ricochet and imparted an even more vicious spin as it rose. Brushing open the slit at the back of his kilt, its razor-sharp edge buried into the inside of his left thigh to sever the great femoral artery. Although he managed to draw his sword, the way in which the blood gushed and spurted from the wound prevented him from putting it to use. He was dying on his feet and collapsed just after the weapon had left its sheath.
If Charole had not been so debilitated, she could have drawn conclusions from the weapons that had been used. While the Amazons xl and the Gruziak were archers, the former did not employ the simple but very effective throwing stick. xli As the female warriors and the horse-riding Gruziak lived respectively to the east and north of the Mun-Gatahs’ domain, this reduced the chances of members of either race being so far to the west of their home territories as they now were. Furthermore, there was only one race that carried the kind of metal disc that had killed the sixth warrior. The proximity to the salt-water ‘Lake With Only One Shore’ gave an added clue to the attackers’ identity. Unlike the land-based nations, the Cara-Bunte travelled to and from their raids in large boats propelled by oars and sails.
Charole was not kept for long before she received her first sight of the attackers and discovered to which nation they belonged. They left their places of concealment and darted forward, passing the gatahs whose snorts of alarm would have betrayed their presence if they had attempted to close in before dealing with the warriors. There were four men and two women, which had been the reason why they had struck from a distance instead of approaching and giving the enemy an opportunity to fight.
The male members of the party were all of medium height, but thickset and heavily muscled, with olive-colored skin and the broad Mongoloid features of Earth’s Oriental races. Apart from a black tuft growing from the center to dangle behind in a braid, their heads were devoid of hair. Barefooted, and moving with the somewhat rolling gait of sailors ashore, they had on voluminous knee-length pantaloons of various colors, broad silk sashes around their midriffs and short, sleeveless soft leather jerkins. For hand-to-hand combat, each carried thrust through his sash a sword shaped like a Sumatran lading in a colorful metal tipped wooden sheath. Its double-edged, spear shaped blade was twenty inches in length and had a breadth of two inches at its widest point, but the concave wood—with one exception’s— handle had no guard. Two of them held short recurved bows which were supplied from the quivers of arrows swung across their shoulders. Empty-handed, another pair had flung the throwing sticks which had dispatched the fourth and fifth Mun-Gatah warriors.
Clearly the last man had not participated in the killing. Tallest, heaviest and oldest of the male Cara-Buntes, his jerkin was decorated on each breast by a silver filigree sailfish curving in the kind of leap which made the species Istiophorus Albicans so highly prized by big game anglers, and he had a portrait of a killer whale emblazoned across the back. As further proof of his superior status, the ivory hilt of his lading was inlaid with silver as was its sheath, and there was a broad golden bracelet embossed with a sailfish on each wrist. He was further armed with a short s
pear, the head of which was shaped like a crescent moon and sharpened all around its edge.
Having attractive Oriental features and coloration, with black hair taken back in what on Earth would be called a ponytail, neither of the women was more than five foot four inches in height. The smaller, a girl in her late teens, was also the younger and she lacked two inches of that height. She had a curvaceous, if slender, build. For all that, armed with a bow only slightly less powerful than those of the men, it had been she whose arrow had killed the banar-gatah rider. The elder, who had attained her middle thirties, was buxom rather than lithe. However, there was no sign of fat on her firm body. It was she who had thrown the halaka as the razor-edged discs were known.
Each of the female Cara-Buntes wore a short, loose fitting, wide sleeved white smock and very little else. The smocks were not fastened in any way, their fronts being kept closed by a black cloth sash. Through the left side of this was tucked the sheath of a twenty inches long weapon resembling an Atjeh’s rentjong in having a wavy single-edged blade and a hilt in the shape of a duck’s head. Neither had any footwear. Like the tallest man, the older woman’s smock bore the sailfish and killer whale patterns and the bracelets she wore sported the same motif. A second halaka hung on a hook attached to the right side of her sash.
‘Take that woman alive!’ shouted the eldest man, his voice sibilant.
‘Leave her to me,’ ordered the older woman, with a similar intonation which made some of the T’s sound like V’s. “Did you hear me, Muchkio?’
‘I hear you, Shushi,’ the girl answered sullenly, letting the bow she had been raising sink down, and relaxing its string.
Listening to what was being said, Charole made a desperate effort and drew free the head of the lance. Deprived of its support, she felt as if the ground was heaving beneath her feet. Desperately she spread her legs apart, lifting the weapon and wishing that she did not feel so helpless. She knew it would only take a short while for her excellent physical condition to throw off the worst of the exhaustion, but was equally and bitterly aware that the time would not be granted to her.
