Shepherd

by Piers Anthony

  “A holddown,” he repeated. “You mean as in judo or wrestling, where one competitor takes his grip, and the other has a certain amount of time to break it?”

  “Yes. Except there's no time limit.”

  “Elen, I could lift you over my head with one arm! How could you ever hold me down even thirty seconds, let alone indefinitely?

  “I can do it, with the right hold.”

  “Oh, a pain hold?”

  “Not exactly. I would not want to cause you pain.”

  Shep was becoming intrigued. “Okay. You take your hold, and I'll see about breaking it. That will determine whose decision about the sheep governs.”

  “Exactly.” She removed her cloak.

  She had said naked. Shep removed his own clothing, then lay on the ground. The thought of wrestling nude with her caused a reaction, but that couldn't be helped. It wasn't as if she did not know her effect on a man.

  She got on him. Her bare breasts against his chest really made him react. Then she put a hand down and lifted her body slightly.

  “Hey!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking my hold.”

  “That's not a hold. That's sex!”

  “Not exactly.” She settled back down on him. His member was now inside her. She was small, but not where it counted. “Now you have to break free of me without leaving anything inside me. Only a clean break counts.”

  Anything inside her. Like semen. What a notion! But he could do it. All he had to do was withdraw. Lift her up off him.

  He put his hands on her hips and lifted. Immediately she did two things: clasped his shoulders tightly with her hands, and his member with her canal. She was anchored to him in three places.

  Still, his strength was vastly greater than hers. He lifted harder. She gripped him harder in all three places. Not only did the grip of her hands cause her breasts to press against him, her canal gripped him like a hand around a teat. His effort to escape was arousing him more than freeing him.

  He relaxed, and she did also. Then he made a sudden effort, but she clamped down instantly. That warm wet pressure brought him close to climax.

  He tried slow sustained pressure, lifting her up. She not only tightened around his member, she kneaded it. She could make it perform any time she chose. The only way to avoid that was to relax completely, not fighting her at all. And that was to lose the match.

  Now he saw the way of it. The more he struggled, the more he would be aroused, and the closer he would come to having an orgasm. Which would cost him the match. He was bound to lose. Better to do it gracefully.

  “I yield,” he said.

  She released him instantly, letting go and getting off him. She got back into her cloak, facing away so he could dress without further embarrassment. He was charged with desire, but had not wanted it to be abated in this particular manner. It would have been akin to rape, of him by her.

  “We will wait on the sheep,” he said.

  There was no reaction from any of the others. They merely waited.

  Twenty minutes later, about the time they would have been midway through the valley, there was a stirring in the air. Then it convulsed. A whirling cloud formed, sucking up sand and rocks, shaping them into a funnel of flying debris. It was a dust devil, expanding into a tornado, forming from the heat and sending it into the sky. Shep felt the formidable wind as the air was sucked in from the sides, feeding into the spinning maw.

  It would have been death to be there when it happened. The sheep had known. Maybe they had smelled the hot air and known from experience. Maybe they had precogged it. But they had known.

  “I think I am becoming a believer,” Shep said. “To trust the sheep.”

  Elen caught hold of him and kissed him. “I'm so glad you gave them a proper chance.” As if it had been purely his own decision.

  The tornado raged for several minutes, then evaporated as swiftly as it had come. Now the air was cooler.

  “I think we can cross!” Shep said, surprised. “The hot material was dissipated. We can walk there before the sun heats it up again.”

  “Good choice,” Elen said.

  Shep blew a note, and the sheep stepped smartly forward. Python slithered onto the rock, finding it bearable, and hurried ahead. Vulture flew. Shep and Elen walked.

  “My choice would have killed us all,” Shep said.

  “This is your choice,” Elen said. “You trusted the sheep.”

  “And you had nothing to do with it?”

  “Nothing important.”

  She was not teasing, rebuking, or embarrassing him about his awkward loss. She was pretending that he had trusted the sheep throughout. That there had been no contest, no holddown. “This is the way you want it?”

  “Of course. You're the shepherd. I am only the guide.”

  Shep experienced burgeoning emotion, but kept it to himself. This was not the occasion for it.

  They reached the other side safely. Now the sheep spread out to graze, and the others located a fruit tree suitable for food and perching. “We'll rest for an hour, here, Shep said belatedly.

  When all parties were ready, they resumed their hike. The scene was deceptively pleasant. They were making good time.

  Shep had gained real respect for the sheep. They had known, whatever the mechanism. But also for Elen Elf, who had done what she had to do, in the manner she had to, and sought no credit for it.

  The easy landscape abruptly gave way to seriously difficult terrain. A mountain rose ahead of them with a bare tilted slope that disappeared into roiling clouds above and turbulent water below. “I hope you're not going to say what I'm afraid you will say,” Shep said.

  “I'm saying it. Our way leads past this tilt, and there's no feasible way around it. But the sheep can handle it.”

  Shep put a foot on the polished slope. The moment he put weight on it, his boot slid downward. “I can't navigate this, and I doubt you others can.”

  “We can't, but the sheep can. They will have to portage us across.”

  Shep inspected the situation more closely, and realized that the water below was not water, but boiling lava. This was volcanic terrain. Any creature who attempted to walk the obsidian slope would slide down into that inferno of doom.

  “Elen--” he said.

  “Trust the sheep.”

  She had trusted the sheep before, and they had saved them all from likely death. But that was one time. Could he afford to trust them? Yet what choice did he have? He saw no other way to cross.

  Elen looked at him with compassion. “If you would like to have me first...”

  So that if he died in boiling lava, at least he would have had some joy of sex? That actually was tempting. But it was an offering from something akin to pity. “No. I have not earned it.” He took an unsteady breath. “I will trust the sheep.”

  She smiled, and that almost made it worth it. “Three will carry Python. Two will carry you. One will carry me. Vulture will fly. It really isn't far. Thereafter the way is easier.”

  “That's good to know,” he said somewhat hollowly. “I'm terrified.” He hoped that admission did not turn her off.

  “I will go first,” she said. “You can follow.”

  “Yes.” It was about the only word he could squeeze out.

  One ewe stepped forward. Elen climbed onto her back, naked but for the pack, holding on to the fur of the animal's neck, her knees clamping the sheep's haunches. No bone knives were in evidence. The ewe stepped out onto the slope. Her hooves were sure and she walked without hesitation. The sheep could indeed handle the slope, even heavily loaded.

  Two more ewes stepped forth, standing nose to tail. It was Shep's turn. He climbed on, gripping the wool of the first sheep's shoulders, swinging his knee over the second sheep. Their backs were broad and stout; it was easier support than he had expected. When he was set, the two moved forward in lockstep, onto the slope.

  Shep closed his eyes, then forced himself to open them. He saw
the descending obsidian surface, dropping toward the swirling lava. He felt waves of heat coming from the lava, and smelled its acrid fumes. He cringed. Then he nerved himself and looked forward, moving his head slowly so as not to unbalance the sheep. Elen was there, her shapely bare bottom above the sheep's rear. What a sight, in what a situation! Then he slowly looked back. Python was there, stretching lengthwise across the last three sheep. Elen and Python had faith; Shep had mainly dread.

  The line proceeded without pause. The sheep seemed unworried. They knew what they were doing. They also, if their precognition was real, knew they would make it safely across. Shep discovered that the way to abate his dread was to believe in that precognition. If their safe crossing was guaranteed, he had nothing to worry about. He merely had to trust the sheep.

  It helped. That growing trust brought him emotional peace. It was almost pleasant, riding across this unusual feature of the landscape.

  He heard flapping. Vulture had evidently waited until they were half across, then flown over them to arrive first.

  Suddenly, it seemed, they were across. He must have tuned out, basking in the glow of his new-found faith. The trip had actually been easy. He watched the last three ewes reach the level land, so Python could slide off.

  Then he turned to Elen. “I trust the sheep,” he said.

  She kissed him. That chaste gesture meant more to him than her recent provocative exposure.

  It was late. They foraged for fruit, washed, and lay their bags under a spreading tree. Elen took his hand and closed her eyes. “When we get to the rams’ territory, we'll have some time off. Then I will ask you to tell me more about Earth,” she said, “Then you can decide whether to risk it.”

  “Risk what?”

  But she was already asleep. She was evidently more tired than she had been the previous night.

  Shep lay there for a time, pondering. He felt closer than ever to Elen, because now he had joined her in trusting the sheep. But he still did not know her intentions toward him. She had shown him that she could handle sex, if she chose, but she was not choosing to offer him that. Not when there was not a specific practical reason. She had to know that he was falling for her. Was she simply playing him to keep him in line? Would her interest end when this mission was completed and they were safely back where they had started? Or was there more to it than that?

  He hoped it was the latter, but feared it was the former. She wanted to know about Earth? He would gladly tell her. But what was this other thing he might risk? He did not take her for a deliberate tease despite her actions. She surely had something in mind.

  Unsatisfied, he finally drifted off to sleep himself, still holding her hand.

  Chapter 5:

  Travel

  In the morning they resumed their trek. “As we get closer, the challenges get worse, for the sheep,” Elen said. “We will need your ingenuity.”

  “I haven't shown much of that yet.”

  “You will.”

  The forest path opened onto a broad orange plain. “Here there be dire wolves,” Elen said. “They are large and fierce, and have been known to attack sheep, overwhelming them by sheer numbers and mass. They take some losses, yes, but merely eat their fallen pack-mates.”

  “If the sheep can't stop them, how can I?”

  “Men know how to handle fire. That's enough to make the difference.”

  Ah. “I'll make torches.”

  They set to work gathering torch materials while the sheep nibbled cautiously at the edge of the plain, ready to retreat into the protective woods at need. Shep was in one sense relieved to learn that the sheep were not proof against every threat. But that relief was token, while his nervousness was larger. If the sheep could not handle this crossing even with precognition, it must be formidable indeed.

  Soon they they had about eight torches. Shep judged that each would burn about fifteen minutes, and they would use two at a time, so they had enough for a crossing lasting one hour. Would that suffice?

  The sheep assembled at the fringe of the plain, ready to cross. It seemed that eight torches were enough. Shep struck a spark from the flint in his pack, and ignited a small fire in the dry grass at his feet. He lit a torch and gave it to Elen, then lit another for himself before stomping out the fire.

  They moved out. There was no sign of any opposition. But the wolves would surely come once the party was in too deep to retreat. That gave him an idea. “Elen, douse your torch. We'll save it until we need it. We might need the extra time.”

  “The sheep indicate we have enough.”

  “They may have allowed for my economy.”

  Elen nodded. She put her torch down to the ground and twisted it in the sand until it snuffed out.

  Python came in close to the sheep. That was an indication that she sensed danger. Vulture, riding one of the sheep, spread her wings and flew in low circles above them. Then, abruptly, she descended, resuming her ride. That was her indication of immediate danger.

  “Light your torch,” Shep told Elen grimly.

  She crossed to him and touched her torch to his. At that moment the plain erupted with howling bodies. The dire wolves did not charge in from a distance; they had been lying in ambush, and now surrounded the party.

  “Distract them enough so that they can't coordinate their attack on the sheep,” Shep said, changing the nearest shape. It was a wolf the size of a pony, heading toward the sheep. Shep ran at it with torch extended, catching it on the flank. The wolf howled in pain and jerked away. Right into the shoulder of a sheep. Blood flowed as the knife stabbed the wolf's side. So the sheep were not defenseless against these predators, merely overwhelmed—if he failed to do his job. The sheep trusted him.

  Shep whirled on the next wolf, striking at its open mouth. It bit reflexively on the torch—and really howled as its mouth got burned.

  Another wolf tried to sneak in behind the sheep. Suddenly Python was there, catching the wolf by the nose and flinging coils around it. The wolf howled and retreated, and Python let it go. But the wolf had been badly bitten; it was out of the fray.

  Thereafter the wolves were more careful, but hardly finished. They merely got smarter, seeking better opportunities.

  Vulture took off and hovered clumsily above the flock.

  Two more wolves came after the hindmost sheep. Python struck again, taking the wolf's nose in her mouth and biting so it hurt. But the second wolf went not for the sheep but for Python's neck.

  And was intercepted by Vulture, who plummeted from the sky, her talons clamping on that wolf's nose as her beak stabbed for its eyes. She couldn't really hurt it, but it was a nasty surprise that took it out of the immediate fray.

  Both wolves fell back, and both were released, cautioned. Python and Vulture evidently knew that they could not afford to get separated from the flock. No more wolves braved the rear guard thereafter.

  Meanwhile Shep and Elen continued to wield their torches, burning any wolf that came in range, while the sheep marched stolidly on, their pace never faltering.

  The attack paused. Had the wolves given up? Shep did not trust that.

  There was an imperative bleat. “That's the leave-me-alone warning,” Elen said. “Get away from the sheep!”

  “But--”

  “Trust me!”

  Shep obeyed. He joined her a little apart from the sheep. Python and Vulture joined them, having heard and understood the bleat. The four of them formed a defensive cell, Shep and Elen standing back to back with torches extended, Vulture perching on Shep's backpack, Python circling them on the ground. But the wolves were not after them at the moment. They were after the undefended sheep.

  A mass of bodies sprang together, six wolves rising as one, landing on the backs of the sheep. And six wolves howled as one, multiply impaled by the deadly bone blades that sprang from the backs of the sheep. The ewes had formed a phalanx, their knives projecting in an impenetrable array the moment the wolves landed. And they were still marching forward.<
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  The wolves somehow hauled themselves off the sheep, grievously wounded. They had tried their ultimate ploy, but the sheep had known it was coming and been ready. The sheep had warned their friends clear just before it happened, so that no friend was hurt. This must be a young pack of wolves, inexperienced with sheep. They surely would not make that mistake again.

  But at the moment too many wolves were hurting to organize another assault. Python, Vulture, and the two torch-wielding humans had distracted them enough to make them coordinate imperfectly, and that had cost them the battle. This time.

  There were no more attacks, but Shep kept his torch lighted, just in case. They made it safely to the far side, and relaxed. But not for long, because the sheep hardly paused before resuming the march. Time was evidently of the essence. Their route led down into a bog verging into a swamp. There might be predators lurking, but they kept their distance.

  “We have to cross,” Elen said. “But if the sheep's hooves get stuck in the muck, then the crocs will come.”

  Shep squatted and dipped out some of the substance with his hand. “Rounded sand. That's quicksand below the water. We don't want to mess with it.”

  “The sheep know.”

  Python slid into the muck and disappeared. But in a moment her head surfaced, and she hissed. “She's finding the way,” Elen said. “There's solid footing there. For the sheep.”

  Indeed, the sheep were wading in, going toward Python. Each dropped down to submerge momentarily, washing the blood off, then stood muddied but clear of the remnant of the battle. “Shouldn't we wait to cross until we're sure it's not a dead end?” Shep asked.

  “It's not. The sheep know.”

  Oh, the precognition. He still was not quite used to that. But obviously it functioned, at least at short range; the sheep had timed their knives perfectly. He and Elen waded in, following the ewes. The muck was thick, but there really was a solid surface beneath it.

  In the middle of the bog the sheep halted. “We'd better check,” Elen said.

  “I'll do it.” Shep made his way around the ewes, then felt carefully with his feet. The hidden path ended, in the very kind of dead end he had feared.