Bunduki and Dawn (A Bunduki Jungle Adventure Book 2)

by J. T. Edson

  Try as he might, even with the added spur of suspecting that Dawn was once again being carried off as a prisoner by the Mun-Gatahs, Bunduki could not think of any way to escape!

  Author’s Note:

  The narrative now continues with the events which have led up to Bunduki’s desperate predicament.

  Chapter One – Who is Dawn of the Apes?

  Dryaka, High Priest of the Mun-Gatah nation, was in a vile temper as he walked out of the small tent that he was occupying since the destruction the previous night of his luxurious quarters. Standing with his hands on his hips, he scowled as he saw half a dozen riders passing over a rise about three-quarters of a mile away. They were urging their mounts forward at a faster pace and he could guess the reason for the increase in speed and did not care for it. Unless he was mistaken (which was unlikely with his keen vision) he could identify at least two of them. And he was far from enamored at the prospect of having to make an explanation to them when they arrived.

  In Dryaka’s immediate vicinity there were traces of the devastation which had been caused when the escaping prisoners had stampeded the whole of the hunting party’s mounts through the camp. The tents that had been knocked over were standing again, but many—including the two large pavilions used by the four members of the council of Elders who were attending the hunt—showed tears caused by fleeing zebras bursting through. However, where his own quarters and those of Charole, the Protectress of the Quagga God had been, only a patch of blackened embers remained. The walls, roofs, poles, guy-ropes and all the furnishings that were inflammable had been consumed by the fires that the prisoners had started as a means of effecting their escape.

  There was, however, one very small consolation that the High Priest could draw from the disastrous events of the previous night. If anything, his quarters had suffered the greater damage. Ignited by the flames, the four small bags of ‘Thunder Powder’ x—there should have been five, but one had been stolen by a spy the Protectress had planted in his retinue—had created extra destruction with their extreme combustibility. But he was still marginally better off than Charole. He had been clad in the garments that he was wearing now and, in accordance with tradition, his helmet and leather breastplate had been outside the pavilion with his lance and saddle. In addition, he had been wearing his sword. On the other hand, as Charole had apparently been entertaining the man she had taken captive, she was left with nothing but a flimsy and very inadequate costume. While her saddle had escaped for the same reason as his own, her sword was damaged beyond repair.

  Almost six foot tall and in his early forties, with a muscular if not bulky physique, Dryaka had close-cropped black hair that was turning gray at the temples. His swarthy face had hard, cruel lines which a moustache drooping over tight lips did little to counteract. He had on a simple white silk blouse, a kilt made from soft brown hide and engraved leather greaves which extended from just below his knees to the sandals on his feet. The chest and back of the blouse was emblazoned by a rampant quagga, xi denoting that he belonged to the highest grade of Mun-Gatah society. Like the garment’s neckline and the hems of the short sleeves, the adornments were formed from gold lace. An ivory-handled sword shaped like an Ancient Roman legionary’s gladius was sheathed on the left side of a belt made from interlocking gold discs.

  There was nothing suggestive of religious meekness and piety about the High Priest. He could claim to be a fighting man second to none, exceptionally skilled with every type of his nation’s weapons and a rider of great ability. Combined with his intelligence and completely ruthless nature, his well deserved reputation as a warrior had elevated him to the most important position—other than becoming a member of the six-man Council of Elders—possible in the Mun-Gatah nation.

  From all appearances, not only Dryaka had been informed that the party was approaching. Clad in their quagga-decorated, flowing, white toga-like robes, two of the Elders emerged from each of the surviving pavilions. Hulkona, senior member of the Council, directed a scowl at Temnak who ranked second to him and it was returned. Watching them, the High Priest was not surprised at their evident hostility. Hulkona had supported him in his rise to power, while Temnak was Charole’s uncle and was far from disinterested in seeing that she retained the post of Protectress of the Quagga God.

  There had been some heated and acrimonious exchanges early that morning when an inquiry was taking place into the escape of the prisoners and the disruption of the camp. Hulkona and Temnak had each been determined that his protégé should not be held responsible. It had taken all the weight of authority and tact of the other two, uncommitted, Elders to keep, if not peace, at least fighting from breaking out between the rival factions. As it was clear that both Charole and Dryaka had been at fault, a truce was declared in the interests of repairing some of the damage to the camp.

  Waiting for the Elders to join him, the High Priest found his thoughts returning to the prisoners. While he had not seen Charole’s captive, he suspected that the man belonged to the same nation as the beautiful girl who had been in his hands. That brought up another point which Dryaka had hoped to solve.

  ‘Who is Dawn of the Apes?’ the High Priest asked himself silently. ‘I’ve never heard of them.’

  That was, although Dryaka did not know it, not entirely surprising. While the ‘Suppliers’ had given Dawn Drummond-Clayton and Bunduki the ability to speak the universal language of Zillikian’s various peoples, for some reason they had said the word ‘Apes’ in English when referring to their connection with Tarzan. So Dryaka—and Charole—believed it to be the name of their nation.

  At that moment the High Priest was less concerned with the fact that he had never heard of a nation called the ‘Apes’ than by the memory of the remarkable weapons which had been in the girl’s possession. An ambitious man, he had plans for the future that not even the Council of Elders suspected. Wanting to achieve the conquest and subjugation of the other nations, instead of merely raiding them to obtain slaves and sacrifices for the Quagga God, he found the thought of Dawn’s effective bow and arrows very disturbing. No other archers against whom his people had fought were able to pierce a Mun-Gatah’s specially hardened rhinoceros hide breastplate, but the girl’s arrow had done so. Examining it later, Dryaka had been unable to imagine what kind of tree had supplied the wood for the shaft. The steel used to make the head and—as he had discovered later—knife, was far better than any he had seen. If all the ‘Apes’ had weapons of such superlative quality, they would form a serious block to his dreams of ruling the entire land.

  Although Dawn had been brought to the High Priest, her captors had failed to bring back her bow and arrows, so he had not been able to make a close study of the former. From what he had seen of her knife, it was exceptionally well made. Unfortunately, according to his female servants and the guards who had seen her escaping, she had regained possession of it and taken it with her. He wished that he had been able to see the weapons that had been taken from Charole’s male prisoner.

  There was another item regarding the Protectress’s mysterious prisoner which aroused Dryaka’s interest. Shortly before the escape, while on his way to investigate the theft of the bag of ‘Thunder Powder’, there had been the sound and burst of flame that he knew to be one of the concoction’s properties. Either somebody in Charole’s pavilion had accidently stumbled upon the secret of igniting the powder, or was aware of what would happen if it should be brought into contact with fire. In the latter case, it could only have been the prisoner. Neither the Protectress nor any member of her retinue would have been foolish enough to do such a thing in the confines of an inflammable tent, but a captive who was desperate to escape might take the chance so as to create a diversion.

  If Charole’s prisoner had that much knowledge about the ‘Thunder Powder’, he might also be aware of something which had so far eluded Dryaka and its discoverer, Zongaffa the Herbalist; how to make the most of the use of the ‘Thunder Powder’. While the results they had
attained were spectacular, the High Priest felt sure that it had a more practical and effective application. One which might help him to achieve his dreams of conquest.

  Noticing the Protectress as she stepped from the small tent which she had taken as her temporary quarters, Dryaka felt a surge of anger. She might have held the solution to his problem, but she had let it slip through her fingers. The thought did little to improve their already severely strained relationship.

  Standing at the front of the tent, Charole showed little of her sense of perturbation. Even in a nation noted for the quality of its women, she was a magnificent specimen of feminine pulchritude. Her shoulder long black hair was held back by the gold lame band which she had been wearing the previous evening. However, the halters and skirts of the same material which she normally wore and her gold colored sandals had perished in the fire. So she had been compelled to borrow similar garments, but made from silver lame, and a sword from one of her adherents.

  Topping her five foot nine inches of well curved contours, the Protectress had a beautiful face that was somewhat marred by a glint in her dark eyes, a set to her sensually pouting full lips, and a general expression which warned of a cruel and imperious nature. The borrowed garments were slightly small and emphasized rather than detracted from the imposing thirty-nine inches of her bosom, trim twenty-one inch waist and exquisitely molded thirty-seven inch hips. The silver straps of the borrowed sandals crisscrossed up her calves to just below the knees and her legs were in keeping with the rest of her figure.

  Despite her supremely feminine appearance, Charole was far from being as soft and yielding as she looked. Although they were only noticeable in her thighs and calves, extremely powerful muscles lay beneath her smooth, olive colored skin. Like the High Priest, knowing how much her post depended upon her ability to defend it by physical means, she kept herself very fit and exercised regularly in armed and weaponless combat.

  Conscious of Dryaka’s scrutiny, the Protectress returned it, Although he had made no mention of the theft of the ‘Thunder Powder’, wanting to keep such a potentially useful substance a secret and for his own private purposes, she felt sure that he was aware that a bag of it had fallen into her hands. When asked by the Elders about the cause of the fire, he had suggested that it might have been started by the magical powers of the two prisoners. He had backed up his assertion by pointing out how the girl had driven an arrow so deeply through the breastplate of one of their scouts that its head had emerged at the rear. No ordinary archer, Dryaka had declared, could have accomplished such a feat; a point with which the Elders had been in agreement. He had offered further evidence to support his assumption. The way in which the zebra herd had been stampeded seemed to corroborate the story told by the two guards who had gone after the girl. They had claimed that the male prisoner had the ability to change himself into one of the mysterious, sub-human, ‘Hairy Men’ who lived in the jungle and were, on rare occasions, captured by Mun-Gatah raiding parties.

  Knowing the High Priest very well and sharing his skepticism on such matters as their nation’s religious beliefs and acceptance of ‘magic’, Charole wondered how much of the explanation he had actually believed. For her part, realizing that her treatment of the handsome blond giant, Bunduki of the Apes, might have placed her position as the Protectress of the Quagga God in jeopardy, she had been only too willing to go along with Dryaka’s theory. By doing so, she had contrived to prevent an already bad situation from growing worse.

  Turning her eyes from the High Priest, Charole looked at the approaching riders. Just as keen-sighted as Dryaka, she recognized the man and woman who were leading the party. That they should be arriving at such a time was most unfortunate. In fact they, of all people, were the last she wanted to learn of the previous night’s fiasco.

  Charole was all too aware that her high office was anything but a sinecure. While—apart from the Council of Elders—only Dryaka in the Mun-Gatah nation was superior to her in social rank and only marginally at that, the situation could change. She was the Protectress by virtue of her physical, fighting and mental prowess, and by using these qualities she had gained the support of a considerable proportion of the population. If she lost the backing of her adherents, she would be deposed and, in all probability, killed. The couple who were arriving would be all too willing to turn her misfortune to their advantage.

  With that sobering thought in mind, the Protectress walked forward. She went to where the four Elders had joined Dryaka.

  ‘What brings Gromart and Fabia here?’ Hulkona asked, nodding towards the riders.

  ‘They’d know where to find us if they have something , important to discuss,’ Tenmak pointed out. ‘Or to pay their respects if they were passing.’

  ‘No matter why they’ve come,’ said Eokan, the shortest and fattest of the Elders, darting a meaning glance from Dryaka to Charole. ‘Their arrival is most inopportune.’

  ‘Most,’ confirmed the fourth Elder, Jedbar, with an air of gloomy dissatisfaction. ‘They’re sure to want to know what’s happened.’

  The Protectress, the High Priest and the other two Elders knew what had provoked such comments. While Eokan was not committed to supporting either Charole or Dryaka, he had an attachment which did not favor Gromart and Fabia.

  The former was Administrator of San-Gatah, second largest and most powerful of their nation’s communities, but aspired to, attain something even higher. Which meant that he was hoping to become the next High Priest and his wife was hoping to replace Charole as Protectress. As Eokan had his own candidates for the two positions, he had no wish for the couple from San-Gatah to learn something that might be of help towards the realization of their ambitions. Although the man and woman who Jedbar was secretly sponsoring differed from those of Eokan, he duplicated his fellow Elder’s sentiments.

  ‘Well have to tell them something.’ Eokan declared.

  ‘We’ll say that lions stampeded the herd last night,’ Hulkona announced, after there had been a short pause without anybody else speaking. It ran through the camp and caused the fires.’

  From their expressions, none of the others seemed over enthusiastic about the excuse. It did not say much for the quality of the men and women who were guarding them, as they ought to have prevented such a thing happening. However, nobody appeared to have a better suggestion.

  ‘We’d better have the word spread among our people so that they’ll know what to say.’ Temnak warned, looking to where four men stood not too far away. ‘Come here, all of you!’

  Watching the order being given to the quartet, Dryaka nodded in grim approval. Apart from the small retinues brought by the two uncommitted Elders, the hunting party was about evenly divided in sympathies between Charole and himself. That was a basic precaution, neither wishing to have the other with numerical superiority. There was another factor besides loyalty which would ensure that the contrived story of lions would be supported. None of the party came from the San-Gatah district. So local rivalry would make them unwilling to have the truth known. They, like their superiors from the pavilions, would consider it better to let the newcomers believe there had been carelessness by the night herders than that two foreigners—even if aided by ‘magic’—had created the havoc and destruction. Satisfied with the precautions that were being taken, the High Priest turned his attention to the visitors.

  Gromart was a medium height, thickset man about Dryaka’s age. Clean-shaven, he was handsome, except for a long scar on his right cheek. The skull-shaped steel helmet he wore was embossed on each side with a quagga’s head and topped by a crest formed from the mane of a zebra. There was ornate carving on his black leather breastplate and greaves. The belt which supported his ivory hilted sword was made from alternating discs of silver and gold. In his left hand, he grasped a nine-foot long lance at its point of balance. A throwing-axe was suspended by a leather loop from the low horn of his fine saddle, which resembled the double girthed. xii Texas range rig except that there was a
metal cup attached to the appropriate stirrup iron to hold the butt of the lance.

  Almost matching Charole in height and dimensions, Fabia was dressed in a similar fashion apart from wearing black leather greaves and sandals. However, her halter and skirt were made from a mixture of gold and silver lame meshing. At thirty-six, she was ten years older than the Protectress. There was some coarsening of her skin, but her body was firm and she held her age well. Her brunette hair had no trace of grey and she was beautiful but hard looking. Like her husband, she had a throwing-axe hanging on her saddle horn and there was a spear suspended in two loops on the left side skirt of the rig.

  As become their important station in Mun-Gatah society, Gromart and Fabia rode respectively a quagga stallion and mare. xiii One of the men and the young woman who were accompanying them sat banar-gatah geldings. The other two warriors were astride smaller ocha-gatah geldings. In addition to the way that they were mounted, the quartet’s attire suggested they were of a lower social standing. The woman’s garments were of silver lame, her greaves undecorated and her sword’s hilt was wooden. Sitting saddles of a poorer quality, the men’s helmets had no crests and their breastplates were plain. All of them had lances and throwing spears to augment their wooden hilted swords.

  In accordance with tradition, on drawing near to the camp Gromart and his men hooked the leather loop attached at the point of balance on their lances over their saddle horns. Holding the reins in both hands, they rode onwards. While the Administrator and his wife looked straight to their front, the rest of the party gazed around with curiosity and thinly disguised amusement. The banar-gatah rider and the young woman in particular made no attempt to hide their interest or feelings.

  ‘Greetings, Elders, Lord Dryaka, Lady Charole,’ Gromart said, bringing his quagga to a halt.