The women and the warlords coaaod-3

by Hugh Cook

  Yen Olass let her head sink down on her knees. She was far too weary to indulge in luxuries like despair: instead, she promptly went to sleep. She was jerked awake as her arms were wrenched backwards. She tried to resist, but it was impossible. She tried to turn and bite. Draven slapped her.

  'Any more of that and I'll kick your head in.' Yen Olass hissed.

  'Hiss away,' said Draven. 'It won't do you any good. Resbit, come here.’

  'Run!' shouted Yen Olass.

  Resbit hesitated. Draven picked up a stone.

  'Come here,' said Draven, 'or I'll batter you.’

  Resbit surrendered herself. Draven tied her up, so that Resbit and Yen Olass were knotted together, back to back.

  'A present for Chonjara,' said Draven. 'I hope it makes him happy.’

  Then he set off upstream, with Jalamex at his side. 'I saved your life!' shouted Yen Olass. Draven turned.

  'Did you hear me? I saved your life!' 'Well now's your chance to save it a second time,' shouted Draven.

  And laughed, and went on his way.

  'You worthless bastard!' screamed Yen Olass.

  Then she swore at him, using the very worst words she knew. Unfortunately, these were all in Eparget, and Draven was unlikely to understand them. Besides, he was soon out of earshot.

  Hissing and swearing, Yen Olass tested her bonds. She tried to work her fingers free, to find some slack in the rope, to get into a position where she could scrape the rope against a stone. But it was hopeless. Draven, a pirate for most of his Ife, was skilled at binding people so they would be helpless while they waited to be raped, killed, tortured or traded. As Yen Olass struggled, she only succeeded in tightening the rope.

  Finally she gave up.

  Resbit was crying.

  Yen Olass tried to comfort her, but had little success. They were both tired, cold and hungry. And soon Yen Olass was crying herself. Eventually, night came, and she slept, dreaming restlessly, jerked awake from time to time when her head lolled sideways.

  Toward morning, she woke from dreams of talking water to find herself cold. The cold was accompanied by cramps in her arms and legs. And, what was more… surrendering to the inevitable, she relaxed her control over her bladder, flooding her things with hot urine which would soon become cold and uncomfortable. A faint stink of urine eased itself into the night air then faded. Resbit moaned faintly in her sleep.

  'Ule,' said an owl.

  'Shut up, owl,' said Yen Olass.

  Out in the night, a stick broke.

  Yen Olass stopped breathing.

  Was something out there? No, surely not. The stick must have broken on its own. Sleepwalking, no doubt. Yen Olass suppressed a hysterical giggle. She found that effort of discipline difficult. She was cold, she was still tired, her arms in particular were hurting her as the muscles cramped, she was humiliated by her predicament and entirely at the mercy of anything that wanted to come along and eat her. She thought of warks. And of those strange fox-fur creatures which had been seen in the forest. And of wolves. Were there any wolves in Penvash?

  Maybe she was going to find out.

  The hard way.

  Yen Olass listened. No more breaking sticks. But the rustling river would conceal the sound of any soft cutthroat approach. Listening to the river, Yen Olass realized she was thirsty.

  Something touched the back of her head.

  Yen Olass started.

  'Yoh!' said Resbit, waking from sleep. It was the back of her head which had touched Yen Olass.

  'Hush,' said Yen Olass. 'Yen Olass, is that you?’

  'No,' said Yen Olass, hissing. 'No, you groggy sluggin of smats, its Lork the Starhunter with his pack of fifty gropters. Now be quiet.’

  'What's smats? An… oh. My arms. Yen Olass, can't you… no, I suppose you can't. Oh. I wish I could… Yen Olass, what was that? What is it? There's something out there! Yen Olass, what is it?’

  'Who knows? But with the racket you're making, you're asking for a personal introduction. Now shut up!’

  Hearing the vicious hiss of anger as Yen Olass spoke, Resbit was quiet. For a while, no untoward sounds intruded. Then, out in the night… the clear, unmistakable sound of teeth graunching into bones.

  Resbit panicked.

  'Yen Olass, Yen Olass-

  'Resbit, shut up! There's a great galumphing mother of an arse-eating carnivore out there. You're just asking-' 'I'm sorry.’

  'Don't be sorry, be silent!' Resbit was.

  So were the teeth.

  They had finished eating.

  But they were still hungry.

  Out in the night, the monster began to move. Smashing through twigs and leaves with an ominous deliberation, it advanced toward them. It sounded huge. They could hear a kind of groping snuffling snorting, suggesting some vast half-blind squashed-nose face. Mouthing toward them.

  Yen Olass hissed softly. The monster was coming straight toward her. She drew her knees up to her chest, protecting her belly and her breasts.

  The monster was almost upon them.

  'Gaaa!' shouted Yen Olass.

  Kicking out with all the force she could muster.

  Hitting nothing.

  She drew back her feet for another try – then thought better of it, and let her legs slump down. Spikes stabbed into her skin. She screamed. Her gut-wrenching cry of terror razored through the night. Resbit screamed in sympathy.

  Then-

  Silence.

  Then…

  'Shit,' said Yen Olass in disgust. 'What?’

  'It's a hedgehog,' said Yen Olass, her voice rising as her anger mounted. 'A hedgehog. A shit-spawned arse-faced pig-buggered spit-licking dog of a snot-sticking hedgehog. I'll kill the bastard!’

  'I don't think you've got much chance of catching it.’

  'I've got him already. I've got the spavined little pervert between my legs. I'll kill him! I'll bite his balls off!’

  Resbit laughed.

  'What's so funny?' said Yen Olass. 'What's so arse-ripping funny, huh? Share the secret.' 'Bite his balls off. Oh, Yen Olass?' And Resbit went off in a fit of giggles. 'I will,' said Yen Olass, not relenting in the slightest.

  'You can't hold him there all night.’

  'All right, it's… it's soft enough. I can dig in with my heels, yes, like… yes. I can dig a hole and bury him alive. The little bastard won't climb out with me sleeping on top of him.’

  'Yen Olass, you wouldn't!’

  'I've started digging.’

  'It'll run away.’

  'He's not going anywhere. He's scared shitless. The ratshit little quirk is huddled into a ball, that's what.' 'Yen Olass… it might be a girl.' 'What? What's that?' 'It might be a girl.' 'No, it's a man.' 'How can you tell?’

  'Of course it's a man. Raping around in the night without any clothes on. Crawling straight for my-’

  'Oh, come on, Yen Olass. It's probably a mother hedgehog. A mother hedgehog with little baby hedgehogs back at her house, all little ones with white spines, really cute and soft, waiting for her to come back with lots of yums.’

  'Hedgehogs don't have houses.’

  'They do. They build houses so they can be all warm and cosy when they have their babies.’

  'Hedgehogs don't have babies. They lay eggs.’

  'They don't!' said Resbit, outraged at this slander.

  'They do too, and the men eat them half the time, so this one should get put down.’

  'It's a she,' said Resbit, positively.

  'How do you know?’

  'I know.’

  'All right then,' said Yen Olass, 'we'll wait till it's daylight. Then we'll see.' Silence. Then a giggle. 'What is it now?’

  'How do you sex a hedgehog?' said Resbit. 'With something sharp, I suspect,' said Yen Olass grimly. Silence. Then:

  'It's probably got fleas,' said Resbit. 'What?’

  'You know. Fleas. They probably think you're very nice and warm. You are nice and warm, Yen Olass. If I was a flea, I'd… I'd find a warm plac
e.’

  Out in the night, there was a piercing shriek.

  'What was that?' said Resbit, in alarm.

  'An owl,' said Yen Olass wearily.

  'Oh… I wonder what it was doing

  'Hunting,' said Yen Olass.

  'Yes. Fleas, probably. Big ones with twenty legs and sharp biting things. Have they started to migrate yet?' 'Shut up.’

  'I think there's one right now, crawling up your

  Yen Olass thunked Resbit a couple of times with the back of her head. Resbit giggled, then was quiet. They sat there back to back. Yen Olass… began to itch. Surely it was imagination.

  'Shit,' said Yen Olass, softly.

  She spread her legs.

  For a while, nothing happened. Then there was a snort, a tentative scrabble of feet. Then suddenly the hedgehog was blundering away through the night, making a staggering amount of noise in the darkness, which amplifies every fearsome sound stalking beneath the stars.

  Resbit started to giggle again. Surrendering her anger, Yen Olass joined her. Soon, they sobered up. They eased themselves, this way and that, trying to soothe out the tensions in the muscles of their arms. Staggering a little, they braced against each other and forced themselves into a standing position. They took a few clumsy double-backed steps, kicked their feet, moved their hips, stretched their spines, and found sufficient freedom to work their arms a little.

  Then they sat down again.

  And now, warmed a little by their exercise, and weakened by the fatigue that follows episodes of absolute terror, they

  found themselves drifting off to sleep again. Yen Olass, who had thought herself condemned to wakefulness for the rest of the night, was so surprised at this that she almost became wide awake again. However, conjuring up a soothing image… a bed with a cat sleeping on it… she eased herself into the territory of dreams.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Daylight.

  Bright and harsh.

  The sun was well up.

  What had awakened them?

  The answer, in a word: Chonjara.

  He stood by the riverbank, surveying them in silence. Then he blinked, and looked around, scanning the trees. With curt, emphatic gestures, he pointed men into the trees. Swiftly, they swept forward, weapons at the ready, attacking the forest in battle formation. But there was no ambush, no lurking party of pirates or Melski. The men regrouped. All this in silence, without a word having been spoken: Chonjara was an efficient commander.

  With the sweep completed, Chonjara pointed a man at the two captives. The man laid a knife against Resbit's throat.

  'No, stupid,' said Chonjara. 'Cut them loose.’

  With the rope cut away, the two women started to ease the crinks out of their bodies.

  'Been enjoying yourselves?' said Chonjara.

  'We had a busy ngiht,' said Yen Olass. 'Seducing hedgehogs.’

  'But Draven.’

  'Gone north. You'll catch him.’

  'I would if I wanted him.’

  'Of course you want him, he's-’

  'He's not important,' said Chonjara.

  Lord Alagrace was dead. And now, Chonjara held Yen Olass prisoner: he had a dralkosh he could produce for the satisfaction of the army once he got back to Lorford.

  'What took you so long?' said Yen Olass. 'We've been waiting here all night.’

  Chonjara did not answer, but turned away. In fact, he had spent all the night in a defensive position just south of the narrow gorge. He knew there were Melski in this area, so he had declined to push on in failing light. That decision might have allowed Draven to escape with Jalamex, but Chonjara did not regret it. He gave orders for his men to begin the march south. They would make for Lake Armansis with all possible speed.

  'Hey,' said Yen Olass, 'what about breakfast?’

  'We've eaten already,' said Chonjara.

  'In the name of the Lord Emperor Khmar,' said Yen Olass, 'I charge you to see to my rations. I carry within me the child of the Red Emperor, the heir to the throne of Tameran.’

  Chonjara snorted, and set off downstream. Resbit and Yen Olass followed, on empty stomachs.

  As his people began the march downriver, Chonjara reviewed the events of the last few days. He had lost an ear, but he was not unhappy. He had avenged his father's death by killing Haveros. Lord Alagrace was dead, leaving him with absolute control of the army. The Lord Emperor Khmar was dead; the future offered power and glory to those prepared to seize it.

  And Chonjara was ready to seize whatever was going.

  When they reached the gorge, Chonjara called a halt, to give his men a breather. He sent scouts ahead to climb to the heights of the gorge, to make sure no Melski were waiting there in ambush. He was at least half-hoping to clash with the Melski. Cutting their way through some of that green muck would sharpen up his men and test their mettle.

  Resting, Chonjara looked across the river. On the far side, on his left, a stream flowing from out of the east spilled its water into the river. It was a small stream; across the width of the river he could scarcely hear the low murmur of diplomacy as the water negotiated its-way over the last few rocks. But something about it had attracted his attention. What?

  Listening intently, he heard… a rumbling. Like… almost like distant thunder. But thunder fades and dies away. This, on the other hand…

  Chonjara stared at the stream with widening eyes. His perceptions heightened to the intensity of terror. He saw the patterns of leaves and stones, water and light. He was trembling. A small flushet of water giggled down the stream.

  And Chonjara found his voice, and screamed: 'Get out of the river!’

  His men, hearing the approaching thunder, realized what it meant – and fled. They clawed for the safety of the banks. Chonjara bounded into the trees. Someone was already ahead of him, but slipped and fell. Yen Olass. Chonjara hauled her to her feet and whacked her on the buttocks:

  'Run!’

  Yen Olass panted upwards, scrambling up the bank with Resbit in front of her. Chonjara outflanked them both and fought for height, hauling himself up handhold by handhold. A young sapling bent and broke beneath his weight. In a frenzy, he scrabbled for a little more height.

  The onslaught of thunder was almost upon them.

  Chonjara turned, bracing himself against a tree. Yen Olass and Resbit were on the slope below him, climbing. He looked through the undergrowth and glimpsed a wall of water and rearing logs plunging forward. Then the vision disintegrated as the avalanche slammed into the river and spray filled the air.

  The waters boiled up, a slurry of floodwater, timber and churning sunlight. Chonjara saw Yen Olass swallowed by the rising flood. Resbit grabbed her by the hair – then the water took her. Whirlpool waters flooded upward. Chonjara gasped air, then a shock of cold water swamped him. He fought toward the rising surface.

  A tree grabbed him.

  Trapped underwater, Chonjara flailed and kicked till he broke free. He struck out for the surface. He jolted out into the sunlight and gasped for air. He heard shouts and screams. Melski were attacking, crashing down the steep banks. Chonjara spat water, and swore.

  He was floating in a swirling pool of dirty water. The surface was swarming with sticks, leaves and the bobbing heads of dozens of survivors. Here and there were drifting logs. Looking downstream, Chonjara saw other logs locked in a helpless jam in the entrance to the gorge. The water level was beginning to sink swiftly.

  'Downstream!' shouted Chonjara. 'Downstream!’

  He saw some Melski leaping into the water. As he struck out for the logjam, a man in front of him vanished under the water. Blood belched to the surface. His men were being dragged down and butchered in the depths. Something grabbed Chonjara's heel. He kicked out, hard, and was released.

  Burdened by boots and clothing, Chonjara made it to the logjam. Someone helped haul him up onto the logs.

  'You!' said Yen Olass, a born survivor.

  'Kill him,' said Resbit.

  Neither wo
man had any weapons.

  Rocks splintered around them. The Melski had possession of the heights overlooking the gorge: they were hurling down rocks.

  'Run!' said Chonjara.

  The women fled, bumping down the far side of the logs. Chonjara followed. Men died ahead of them and behind them. There was no hope for the wounded. The rapidly sinking water level exposed the boulders they needed as stepping stones, and they leapt from stone to stone, running so fast they were almost flying.

  They regrouped beyond the gorge, where the river flowed over beds of stone and shingle. Chonjara made a quick head-count. Only thirty of his men had survived. He saw movement downstream: more Melski were coming out of the trees, barring the way downriver.

  'This way!' shouted Chonjara, plunging into the forest.

  He led his men into the forest, heading west. Then he halted. The soldier behind him was Saquarius, a strong capable man, even if not entirely trustworthy.

  'Take the lead,' said Chonjara. 'Force the pace.’

  Saquarius nodded, and strode ahead. Chonjara stood where he was, urging his men forward. He saw Yen Olass and Resbit were being hustled along with the column; he noted the men who had taken the two women in charge. All of his men had weapons of some kind, though some had lost their swords and just had knives or tomahawks which had been secured to their belts.

  At the end of the column were a few stragglers. Chonjara gave them the rough edge of his tongue. He went last, urging them on in front of him. He could still hear distant sounds of fighting. Some of his men were trapped and dying, struggling out of the gorge disabled by wounds, falling victim to the Melski. Good. It would give the survivors a little time.

  When the column entered ground which Chonjara thought suitable, he pushed forward and took control of his men. They struggled up a steep gully, and Chonjara directed them into position. He kept Yen Olass and Resbit with him, warning them:

  'One sound, and you're dead.’

  With his men in position, he looked back down the gully, and saw a body lying there, moaning. Who was it? Nassos.