Norman, John - Gor 09 - Marauders of Gor.txt

by Marauders of Gor [lit]

  of the noble Blue Tooth, but of something else, unaccountable, not understood. I

  saw him suddenly thrust his left forearm against the broad blade of his spear.

  To my horror I saw him sucking at his own blood. I saw a man, fighting the

  frenzy, tear handfuls of his own hair from his head. But it was coming upon him,

  and he could not subdue it. Other men were restless. Some dug at the earth with

  their boots. Others looked about themselves, frightened. The eyes of one man

  began to roll in his head; his body seemed shaken, trembling; he muttered

  incoherently. Another man threw aside his shield and jerked open the shirt at

  his chest, looking into the valley. I heard others moan, and then the moans give

  way to the sounds of beasts, utterances of incontinent rage. Those who had not

  yet been touched stood terrified among their comrades in arms. They stood among

  monsters. "Kurii," I heard someone say. "Kill Kurii," I heard. "Kill Kurii."

  "What is it?" I asked Ivar Forkbeard. I saw a man, with his fingernails, blind

  himself, and feel no pain. With his one remaining eye he stared into the valley.

  I could see foam at the side of his mouth. His breathing was deep and terrible.

  "Look upon Rollo," said the Forkbeard. The veins in the neck, and on the

  forehead, of the giant bulged, swollen with pounding blood. His head was bent to

  one side. I could not look upon his eyes. He bit at the rim of his shield,

  tearing the wood, splintering it with his teeth. "It is the frenzy of Odin,"

  said the Forkbeard. "It is the frenzy of Odin." Man by man, heart by heart, the

  fury gripped the host of Svein Blue Tooth. It coursed through the thronged

  warriors; it seemed a tangible thing, communicating itself from one to another;

  it was almost as though one could see it, but one could not see it, only its

  effects. I could trace its passage. It seemed first a ghastly infection, a

  plague; then it seemed like a fire, invisible and consuming; then it seemed like

  the touching of these men by the hands of gods, but no gods I knew, none to whom

  a woman or child might dare pray, but the gods of men, and of the men of

  Torvaldsland, the dread, harsh divinities of the cruel north, the gods of

  Torvaldsland. And the touch of these gods, like their will, was terrible. Ivar

  Forkbeard suddenly threw back his head and, silently, screamed at the sky. The

  thing had touched him. The breathing of the men, their energy, their rage, the

  fury, was all about me. A bowstring was being drawn taut. I heard the grinding

  of teeth on steel, the sound of men biting at their own flesh. I could no longer

  look on Ivar Forkbeard. He was not the man I had known. In his stead there stood

  a beast. I looked down into the valley. There were the lodges of the Kurri. I

  recalled them. Well did I remember their treachery, well did I remember the

  massacre, hideous, merciless, in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth. "Kill Kurii," I

  heard. Within me then, irrational, like lava, I felt the beginning of a strange

  sensation. "I must consider the beauty of the Torvaldsberg," I told myself. But

  I could not look again at the cold, bleak beauty of the mountain. I could look

  only into the valley, where, unsuspecting, lay the enemy. "It is madness," I

  told myself. "Madness!" In the lodges below slept Kurii, who had killed, who had

  massacred in the night. In my pouch, even now, there lay the golden armlet,

  which once had been worn by the woman, Telima. Below, unsuspecting, they lay,

  the enemy, the Kurii. "No," I said. "I must resist this thing." I drew forth the

  golden armlet which had been worn by Telima. On a bit of fiber I tied it about

  my neck. I held it. Below lay the enemy. I closed my eyes. Then I sucked in the

  air between my teeth. Somewhere, far off, on another world, lit by the same

  star, rnen hurried to work. I fought the feelings which were rearing within me.

  As well might I have fought the eruption of the volcano, the shifting of the

  strata of the earth. I heard the growling, the fury, of those about me. Below us

  lay the Kurii. I opened my eyes. The valley seemed to me red with rage, the sky

  red, the faces of those about me. I felt a surge of frenzy building within me. I

  wanted to tear, to cut, to strike, to destroy. It had touched me, and I stood

  then within its grip, in that red, burning world of rage. The bowstring was

  taut. There was foam at the mouth of Svein Blue Tooth. His eyes were those of a

  madman. I lifted my ax. The thousands of the men of Torvaldsland, on either side

  of the valley, made ready. One could sense their seething, the unbearable power,

  the tenseness. The signal spear, in the hand of the frenzied Blue Tooth, its

  scarlet talmit wrapped at the base of its blade, was lifted. The breathing of

  thousands of men, waiting to be unleashed, to plunge to the valley, for an

  instant was held. The sun flashed on the shield. The signal spear thrust to the

  valley. With one frenzied cry the host, in its fury, from either side of the

  valley, plunged downward. "The men of Torvaldsland," they cried, "are upon you!"

  Chapter 18 What then occurred in the camp of the Kurii The Kur dropped back from

  the blade. Howling I leapt upon another, striking it before it could rise, and

  then another. Simultaneously with the attack from the slopes the girls in the

  cattle pen, following the orders of masters, conveyed to them by Hilda, crying

  out, fled in their hundreds from the pen, streaming throughout the camp. The

  herd sleen rushed among them but, confused in the numbers, found lt diffcult to

  single out women for returning to the pen. Similarly the marine predator

  attacking a school of shimmering flashing bodies makes fewer successful strikes

  than he would if he were able, undistracted, to single out individual quarries.

  A sleen would no sooner mark out a girl for return to the pen than three or four

  others would constantly enter and disappear from his ken, often luring him into

  their pursuit, while the first slips free, in her turn later perhaps to save

  another similarly. Furthermore, when a sleen would fasten on a given girl she

  would permit herself, rapidly, to be returned to the pen. Thus the sleen,

  obedient to its training, would not harm her. As soon as she was back in the

  pen, of course, she would leave it again, escaping from a different sector. Any

  girl found remaining in the pen by a man of Torvaldsland, seeking her own

  safety, unless she had been ordered there by a free attacker, was to be

  summarily slain. I was pleased to note that the women feared more the men of

  Torvaldsland than even sleen and Kurii. Danger to them was of no interest to us.

  Their lives were unimportant. They were slaves. Accordingly, we used them to

  create a diversion. Many Kurii, springing from their tents, emerging from the

  leather and fur shelter tunnels, confused, first saw only the sleek, two-legged

  cattle streaming past, until perhaps axes fell upon them. The nature of the

  attack, and its extent, would not be clear to them. A Kur lifted its great ax. I

  charged him, my ax swift before he could strike. I wrenched free the blade of

  the ax, as it slumped down, breaking it free from its jawbone and shoulder.

  "Tarl Red Hair!" I heard cry. It was the voice of a girl, wild, slender. I

  turned. I realize now it was
Thyri, but I did not recognize her at the time. I

  stood mighty and terrible, the ax ready, my clothes drenched with blood, the Kur

  rolling and jerking at my feet. She put her hand before her mouth, her eyes

  terrified, and fled away. I saw a Kur seize a man of Thorgard of Scagnar's camp

  and tear his head from his body. The attackers, as well as the men of Thorgard

  of Scagnar, wore yellow scarves at their shoulders. Many Kurii, confused in the

  beginning, had fallen to the axes of scarved men, putatively their allies. Now,

  however, indiscriminately, they sought to destroy all armed male humans. Many

  were the men of Thorgard who fell beneath the teeth and steel of Kurii, and

  several were the Kurii who fell to the weapons of Thorgard's men, as they fought

  madly to defend themselves. Once I saw Thorgard of Scagnar and Ivar Forkbeard

  trying to reach him. But Ivar was blocked by Kurii and warriors, and joined in

  their combat. I heard the screaming of slave girls. I saw two Kurii converging

  on Gorm.Twice , from behind, the ax swept laterally, once to the left, the

  second time to the right, chopping through the spines. A sleen, more than eleven

  feet in length, six-legged, slid past, its fur wiping against my thigh. Gorm, in

  his madness, was cutting at the bodies of the Kurii fallen now before him,

  shrieking. Shoulder to shoulder, fighting, I saw Bjarni of Thorstein Camp and

  the young man, whom I had championed on the dueling ground in the thing. I

  smelled fire. There was the howling of Kurii. I saw a Kur, barred with brown,

  turning, backing away, snarling, limping, from Ottar, who kept the Forkbeard's

  farm. Ottar pursued it, heedless of his safety, his eyes wild, killing it,

  cutting its body then in two with repeated blows of his ax. I saw the huge,

  little-known man of Torvaldsland, who had joined the host late, calling himself

  Hrolf, from the East, who had come from the direction of the Torvaldsberg. With

  a cry he thrust his spear through the chest of a Kur. He fought magnificently. A

  Kur charged. I side-stepped, catching it in the belly with the ax. I saw another

  Kur, undecided, startled. I slipped in gut. It charged. I reared the handle of

  the ax, catching it in the stomach, turning it to one side. It grunted. I leapt

  up, catching it in the side of the neck before it could rise. Its head half to

  one side it rose to its feet and ran for a dozen yards before it slipped,

  falling sideways, rolling into the fur and burning leather of one of their

  lodges. "Protect me!" I heard. A female threw herself to my feet, putting her

  head to my ankle. "Protect me!" she wept. I looked down. She lifted her face,

  terrified, tear-stained. She had dark hair, dark eyes. I saw the iron collar,

  dark, on her white throat. It was Leah, the Canadian girl. With my foot I thrust

  her, weeping, to one side. There was men's work to do. I met the attack of the

  Kur squarely. The handle of its ax smote down across the handle of mine, forcing

  me to one knee. Slowly I reared up, forcing the handle, now held in the two paws

  of the Kur, upward and backward. It again thrust down, with its full weight and

  strength, certain that it could crush the puny strength of a human. I held it

  only long enough to satisfy myself that I could, then I withdrew the handle

  swiftly, twisting to one side and lifting the ax. It fell forward, startled. I

  stepped on the handle of the ax. It tried to dislodge it. My ax was raised. It

  roIled wildly to one side. My blow fell against its left shoulder blade,

  dividing it. Howling, it leapt to its feet, backing away from me, baring its

  fangs. I followed it. It turned suddenly and leapt away. I caught it before the

  opening of a pavilion tent, one of those of Thorgard of Scagnar, perhaps his

  own. The tent was striped. The Kur, turning, now facing me, moved backward; it

  stumbled against a tent rope, jerking loose its peg. I leaped forward, striking

  it again, at the left hip. The side of its furred leg was drenched with blood.

  Hunched over, snarling, it backed into the tent, where I followed it. There was

  screaming from within the tent, the screaming of Thorgard's silken girls, many

  of them short, plump, lusciously bodied. Some were chained by the left ankle.

  The silks they wore, clinging and diaphanous, were designed not to conceal their

  beauty but to reveal it, to enhance and accentuate it, to expose it sensuously

  to the survey of a master. They, collared, shrank back, cowering on the

  cushions, drawing back to the side of the tent. I scarcely glanced at them. They

  would belong to the victors. The Kur, backing away, with its right arm, reaching

  across its body, tore up one of the tent poles, wrenching it free of the earth,

  the tent. The tent sagged near him. He snarled. He thrust out with the tent

  pole, using the spike at its top like a spear. Then he swung the pole, striking

  at me. I waited. It was weak from the loss of blood. It turned about again and

  fled to the opposite wall of the tent. It tried to tear the siIk, and it was at

  the wall of the tent that I caught it. I lifted my ax from the body, and turned

  to face the women. I strode to them. They knelt, huddled together, holding one

  another, at the side of the tent. They put down their eyes, trembling. I left

  the tent. "Where is Thorgard of Scagnar?" asked Ivar Forkbeard. His shirt was

  half torn away. There was Kur blood on his chest and against the side of his

  face. "I do not know," I told him. Behind Ivar Forkbeard, naked, wearing his

  collar, I saw Hilda, Thorgard's daughter. "There is a rallying of Kurii by the

  verr pens!" cried a man. Quickly Ivar and myself hurried to the verr pens. The

  rally was ill fated. Spears fell among the determined Kurii. Several fell in the

  mud and filth of the verr pens themselves, the bleating animals, frightened,

  darting about, leaping over the bodies. Near the verr pens we found chained male

  slaves, picked up by Kurii on foraging expeditions, and used as porters. There

  were more than three hundred such wretches. Svein Blue Tooth was at the pens,

  leading the attack that had broken the rally. The rally had been led by the Kur

  who had been foremost in the attack on his hall. This Kur, it seemed, had

  disappeared, scattering with the others. The Blue Tooth stepped over the body of

  a fallen Kur. He gestured to the chained male slaves. "Free them," he said, "and

  give them weapons. There is yet work to do." Eagerly the slaves, when their

  manacles had been struck away, picked up weapons and sought Kurii. "Do not

  permit Kurii to escape to the south," said Svein Blue Tooth to Ketil, keeper of

  his high farm, who had been famed as a wrestler. "The bosk herd blocks their

  escape in numbers," said Ketil. "Some have even been trampled." "We have been

  tricked!" cried a man. "Across the camp is the true rally, hundreds of Kurii!

  All falls before them! This was a ruse to draw men here, permitting Kurii to

  regroup in numbers elsewhere!" My heart leaped. No wonder the commander of the

  Kurii had left his forces here, disappearing. I wondered if they knew his real

  intent had been elsewhere. I admired him. He was a true general, a most

  dangerous and lethal foe, unscrupulous, brilliant. "It seems," grinned Ivar

  Forkbeard, "we have a worthy adversary." "The battle turns against
us!" cried a

  man. "They must be held!" said Ivar Forkbeard. We heard the howling of Kurii,

  from almost a pasang away, on the other side of the camp. Drifting to us, too,

  were the cries of men. "Let us join the fray, Tarl Red Hair," invited the

  Forkbeard. Fleeing men rushed past us. The Forkbeard struck one, felling him.

  "To the battle," said he. The man turned, and, taking his weapon, fled back to

  the fighting. "To the battle!" cried the Forkbeard. "To the battle!" "They

  cannot be held!" cried a man. "They will sweep the camp!" "To the battle!" cried

  the Forkbeard. We ran madly toward the fighting. There, already lifted, we saw

  the signal spear of Svein Blue Tooth. About it swept Kurii. It was like a flag

  on an island. At its foot stood the mighty Rollo, striking to the left and right

  with his ax. No Kur who approached the signal spear did not die. Hundreds of

  men, in ragged, scattered lines, strung out laterally, accompanied us. Kwrii,

  overextended, meeting this new resistance, to piercing howls, fell back, to

  regroup for another charge. "Form lines!" cried Svein Blue Tooth. "Form lines!"

  The Blue Tooth, their Jarl, was with them! Men fought to take their place, under

  his eyes, in the first line. The Blue Tooth himself now stood with Rollo, his

  own hand on the signal spear. We saw the overlapping shields of the Kurii line,

  the axes. There must have been better than two thousand Kurii formed. Then, to

  our surprise, from within the Kurii lines we saw two or three hundred slave

  girls whipped forth. They were bound together in fours and fives. Some were

  bound together by the wrists, others by the ankles, some by the waist, many by

  the throat. They were cattle, caught and tethered in the camp, in the confusion,

  by Kurii. They were to be used to break our lines. I saw Ael~gifu, Pudding,

  among them. Her wrists were pulled out from the side of her body, bound to the

  wrist of a girl on either side, as they themselves were fastened. We heard the

  cracking of whips, and the cries of pain. Faster and faster ran the girls toward

  us, fleeing the whips. Behind them, rapidly, the Kurii advanced. "Charge!" cried

  the Svein Blue Tooth. The lines of men, too, hurtled forward. Not ten yards

  before the clash took place, Svein Blue Tooth and his lieutenants before the