by J. T. Edson
Forgetting her intention of taking revenge on the woman who had been reviling her, the girl swung away and resumed her flight. Although she allowed the arrow to slide forward under control, she once again left it in position. She was accepting the difficulty of running like that against the benefit of having it ready for immediate use.
‘It is a pity that your eagle failed to stop her, Charole,’ Dryaka remarked, in tones of mock commiseration. ‘If you wish, I’ll let you have your revenge when Tomlu catches her.’
‘That is kind of you,’ the Protectress answered, with a poison-sweet politeness. ‘And when Ragbuf brings her to me, I’ll let you have her—after I’ve finished with her.’
Neither Charole nor Dryaka would willingly allow their respective factions to become the weaker, so each had sent one man to scout for game across the river. Whichever reached the departing girl first would be able to claim her for his leader.
Having heard the brief exchange of comments, the six riders from the ridge separated into their two factions.
They moved into position behind their leaders and watched the scouts galloping recklessly in pursuit of the foreign girl.
Being fully aware of the rivalry between their leaders; Ragbuf and Tomlu did not need to be told that the Protectress and the High Priest would each want to take the girl for his, or her, own use. So the scouts were mutually determined to be the one who made the capture. Considerably smaller and lighter than his companion, Ragbuf began to draw ahead. Snarling a curse, Tomlu tried to force more speed out of his zebra.
‘What will you do with her, Charole?’ asked the woman whose footwear followed the style worn by the Protectress, throwing a triumphant glance at her opposite number in Dryaka’s faction as Ragbuf gained a full length’s lead on Tomlu.
Before any reply could be made, Ragbuf’s mount dropped its right front hoof into a hole. Screaming with agony as the leg snapped, it went down and pitched its rider over its head. Concentrating on the girl, he was unable to save himself and was catapulted helplessly to the ground. The lance flew from his hand as he made a belated attempt to break his fall. Failing to do so, he landed head first. There was a sharp pop as his neck broke and his body slid onwards for a few feet. Whooping derisively and not offering to stop to see how badly the other man was injured, Tomlu galloped by.
‘You don’t seem to have the Quagga God’s favor today, Charole,’ commented the sultry, beautiful brunette from her place at the High Priest’s left side.
‘Perhaps you would like to see how far He has withdrawn his favor, Elidor?’ the Protectress spat back viciously and her right hand crossed to the hilt of her sword.
‘Tomlu will soon have her,’ Elidor said, without meeting Charole’s challenging gaze. Instead, as she was not ready to take up the other’s offer and yet was equally unwilling to make her refusal obvious, she pretended to be wholly absorbed in the pursuit.
If the Protectress had been less interested in the result of the chase, she might have forced the issue. Elidor was her most prominent rival and Dryaka’s choice to be her successor. As yet, they had not clashed but Charole knew that it was only a matter of time before they must. However, she intended to be the one who chose when, where and how it took place. Believing herself to be the better swordswoman, she was determined that they would be the weapons selected when the confrontation happened. For the moment, she decided to forego the opportunity and continued to stare across the chasm.
Hearing the scream of the zebra, followed by the crashes as it and its rider struck the ground, Dawn threw a glance over her shoulder. One of her pursuers was down, but the other showed no sign of stopping to help him.
Striding along as fast as her legs would carry her, the girl accepted that she could not hope to reach the trees. Nor, if she kept running at that pace, would she be in any condition to defend herself should the need arise—which it was practically certain to do.
With her bosom heaving and straining at the dress’s fastenings as she sought to replenish her lungs, Dawn halted and turned towards her pursuer. He was big, burly, very muscular and had a surly, brutal face. Even with the extensive knowledge of various forms of unarmed combat acquired during her formative tomboy years and never forgotten, she doubted whether she could fight him off with her bare hands. Nor was she enamored with the idea of using her knife.
That left her with the Ben Pearson Marauder bow and its fiber glass arrows.
Dawn felt considerable qualms about the possibility of having to take another human being’s life. Watching the man galloping closer, she forced herself to accept that she might not have any other choice. Nothing in his attitude, particularly the way in which he had ignored his fallen companion, suggested that he might be disposed towards mercy and compassion. In fact, his whole demeanor implied exactly the opposite. If his expression was any guide, he was already savoring the pleasures which he felt sure would be his after he had made her a captive.
At that moment, the girl started to experience a sensation similar to one she had felt when competing before spectators in some athletic event. She was being watched and not just by the burly pursuer, or even the rest of his party beyond the chasm. Yet the man gave no indication of being aware of the mysterious observers. Nor had Dawn seen anything of them during her flight. Concluding, from the way they were keeping themselves concealed, that she could not count on them to help her she knew that she must deal with the man unaided.
Lifting the butt of his lance from the socket on the stirrup, Tomlu turned it forward instead of to the rear. Although he had not received any advice or instructions, he knew that Dryaka would want the girl taken alive and with as little permanent injury as possible. That was understandable. The people preferred active sacrifices for the Quagga God, such being more entertaining to watch as the victims tried to escape or to make a fight to save their lives. While a blow to the stomach with the butt of the lance would render her helpless for long enough to let him secure her, it would not seriously incapacitate her.
Grimly setting her teeth, Dawn started to raise the bow. While doing so, she did her best to control her heavy breathing. The way it was causing her chest to heave, she could not hope to do any accurate shooting. In fact, it might even seriously impede her ability to handle the far from inconsiderable draw weight of the powerful hunting bow.
Being aware of the problems, the girl watched the approaching rider. She sensed that she could not expect to bluff or intimidate the burly man, but hoped he might recognize the danger and keep his distance.
The hope did not materialize!
The man was continuing to ride straight at her!
Leaning sideways at an angle of almost forty-five degrees on the saddle of his well-trained zebra, Tomlu was studying his potential victim. He watched her presenting her weapon at him, but did not feel unduly alarmed. An experienced warrior, he had come into contact with archers on several occasions and was satisfied that he knew their limitations.
The girl, Tomlu noticed, was showing signs of having run both fast and far since killing Charole’s eagle. What was more, as she began to draw the bow, he observed with satisfaction that she was taking the easiest target and aiming at the centre of his broad chest. That reduced the danger to him and he was grateful that she was not making his mount her target. No arrow, even when discharged by a man, had contrived to pierce his breastplate of one and a half inch thick, sun-dried and specially hardened rhinoceros hide. xxvii So he believed, with some justification in the light of past events, that he had nothing to fear from a woman.
While she was drawing back the arrow towards its anchor point, Dawn was all too conscious of the way in which it was moving in concert with the rising and falling of her bosom. Try as she might, she could not keep the weapon steady.
Dawn realized that, in a very short time, the man would be in striking distance. Nor did she draw any erroneous conclusions from the way he was holding the lance. Its butt would prove as effective as the point if it should make contact. Eve
n more so, if—as she suspected—it was his intention to take her alive.
Forcing herself to remain calm and striving desperately to control her breathing, the girl finally yielded to the inevitable. There was, she realized, no hope of the man turning away. For all that, she still hesitated. If she should miss with the arrow, she was all too aware that she would not have sufficient time to extract a replacement, even from the more readily accessible bow-quiver, nock, draw, take aim and loose it at her assailant.
Chapter Five – If You Follow, Tar-Am Kill!
‘Look behind you!’ the brown-skinned girl screamed, pointing a finger in the hope that it would help to explain what she meant if the “jungle god” did not understand the Telonga language.
Awe, reverence—and something more earthy—had come to the girl’s pretty and expressive face as, having watched her rescuer deal with Bul-Mok and turn in her direction, she had started to rise. However, seeing the second of the ‘Hairy Men’ commencing an attack on the blond giant—who did not appear to appreciate the danger his incautious behavior had created—she was determined to alert him to it. Once he had extricated himself from the predicament, which she felt sure he could do, he would be suitably grateful for the warning.
The girl’s words had not been necessary, even though—in some mysterious way—Bunduki had been able to understand them. He had known there was nothing more to fear from Bul-Mok after having received the surrender, but he intended to establish a similar sense of inferiority upon the rest of the bulls. If there was to be a further challenge, he had known it would come from the second largest male.
Glancing at Bal-Tak after having given his victory roar, the blond giant had guessed that he was building up his courage but was not quite ready to make his move. That was why Bunduki had turned his back on the three young bulls. He was hoping that his disdainful attitude would goad Bal-Tak into trying to take advantage of the opportunity and attack. So he had been alert for the first hint that he had succeeded.
Having heard the Mangani s growl and the sound of his approaching feet, Bunduki was already starting to turn as the words were leaving the girl’s lips.
‘Bal-Tak kill!’ the young Mangani bellowed, despite his surprise at seeing his intended victim swinging to face him.
Roaring out the threat, despite an inclination to retreat from his obviously prepared foe, Bal-Tak continued to rush forward. Instead of following what would have been the most sensible course and retreating, he raised and prepared to deliver a powerful downwards thrust with his branch-spear when he came within striking distance.
The young bull was not allowed to complete his proposed attack.
Thinking and moving at a much faster speed than the Mangani was capable of, Bunduki sprang at him. Out drove the blond giant’s clenched right fist. It ploughed with terrible force into Bal-Tak’s solar plexus before he could bring down the spear. Halted in his tracks by the power of the blow, the Mangani acted as a human being would under the circumstances. Letting go of his branch-spear, he folded over at the waist and his hands flew to the point of impact in an instinctive, if futile, attempt to lessen the suffering he was experiencing.
Stepping forward a pace and pivoting on his right foot to gain extra impetus, Bunduki swung and propelled his left knee upward. It caught the Mangani in the centre of the chest. Lifted erect and from his feet by the impact, Bal-Tak pitched over to land winded and helpless on his back.
‘Ka—Ka-goda!’ Bal-Tak managed to gasp out as his assailant loomed above him.
Accepting the surrender, Bunduki went by his fallen foe. He wanted to complete the establishment of his superiority over the other two young males. From the perturbed way they were watching him approach, he did not anticipate any great difficulty in doing so.
‘You fight?’ Bunduki demanded, glaring at the third largest bull.
‘No!’ was the immediate reply, followed by a rapid retreat for several feet.
Without even waiting to be challenged, the smallest of the quartet dropped his branch-spear and scuttled away.
Satisfied that he had attained an absolute moral and physical ascendancy over the Mangani, at least for the time being, the blond giant once more turned and went towards the girl. He glanced at Bul-Mok and Bal-Tak in passing. Although the former had risen, he slunk away holding his back with one hand and avoided meeting Bunduki’s eyes. The latter was sitting up in a painful manner and was too concerned with his woeful feelings to even look at the man who had caused them.
It was Bunduki’s intention to retrieve his bow and then question the girl. Before he could do either, she flung herself into his arms. Once there, she clung hold and wriggled her warm, almost naked and very curvaceous body in a way that suggested relief over her escape was not her only reason for coming so close.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ Bunduki said, guessing that he was speaking a language she could understand. He removed her arms from around his neck and eased her gently away. They won’t harm you now.’
‘I am not afraid now that I’m with you, great god of the jungle,’ the girl replied, attempting to come close but held beyond her arms’ length by his hands on her shoulders. ‘I am Joar-Fane. Do you like me?
‘“The Loving One”,’ the blond giant translated silently, keeping the girl at a distance. I bet you live up to it.’ Aloud, he went on, ‘Where do you live, I will take you there.’
Even as Bunduki made the offer, he realized that carrying it out might delay his search for Dawn. The Manganis’ attitudes had suggested that they had had little or no contact with human beings. So the girl’s home would probably be a long way off.
A disappointed frown came to Joar-Fane’s features. When a woman was rescued by a jungle god, she did not expect him to be in such a hurry to return her to her village. Perhaps he required a hint to assure him of her feelings.
‘I don’t know where it is and I don’t care,’ the girl stated with a toss of her head. ‘I will stay with you, jungle god. I’ll make you a fine wife, you’ll see.’
Still holding Joar-Fane away from him, Bunduki wondered what he could do with her. If he tried to locate her village, she might deliberately mislead him. Or she could really be lost and have no idea of the direction in which her home was situated. In either event, he would be delayed—possibly for days—in his attempt to find Dawn. That was something which he did not care to contemplate. He had seen sufficient to realize that the jungle contained many perils, some of which—such as the presence of Mangani—were different from anything she might be expecting.
‘What is your name, great god of the jungle?’ Joar-Fane continued, when her words failed to elicit the desired response.
‘Bunduki,’ the blond giant replied, being able to say his name while speaking the girl’s language although it had been impossible when using the much more primitive speech of the Manganis. ‘But I’m not a god. I’m just a man.’
‘Bunduki,’ Joar-Fane repeated, speaking the word slowly. Then she turned on her most winning smile.
‘Bunduki. Bunduki. I like it. I’ve never seen such a beautiful man as you, Bunduki, and I’ll make you a very fine wi—’
Hoping to chill the girl’s ardor by a display of indifference, the blond giant pushed her gently aside. Her words had been trailing away even before he did so, and she was staring past him in an alarmed fashion. He swung around, wanting to find out what had attracted—or diverted—her attention.
Several more Mangani were coming from the game trail. There were five females; one big and old, the others younger but fully developed. A dozen children of various ages were trailing along and two immature bulls brought up the rear. Joining the new-comers, the two youngest members of the first party started to explain—as well as their limited vocabulary would allow—what had happened. The females and the youngsters did not listen with any great display of interest. In fact, long before the explanations were completed, they were beginning to scatter and forage for food in the bushes and grass at the edge of the clearing.
Bunduki decided that it might be advisable to leave. There was a chance that the presence of Bul-Mok’s family would arouse his protective instincts and cause him to lead a mass attack by the other bulls.
Gathering up his bow, the blond giant went to retrieve the arrow from Bul-Mok’s ruined club. If his suspicions regarding the jungle were correct, it would be impossible for him to obtain replacements of such quality and materials. The girl scuttled after him, darting frightened glances at the Mangani. Having advanced with the intention of attempting to reach the dead capybara, the largest of the young females gave a snarl and rushed towards Joar-Fane.
‘Back!’ Bunduki roared, reverting to Mangani and placing himself between the girl and the female.
Ignoring the command, the she-Mangani continued to advance. The big blond did not hesitate in his response. Stepping forward and dropping the club with the arrow still in it, he delivered a right hand cuff to the side of the disobedient female’s head that was hard enough to knock her sprawling. After that, none of the others tried to come near and, on regaining her feet, the first one hurried away.
Handing his bow to Joar-Fane who was staring at him with an expression that—under the circumstances—he found disconcerting, Bunduki picked up the club and drew free his arrow. Tossing the club aside, he led the way to the capybara he had killed. Looking at it, the girl let out a gasp.
‘No Telonga could have done this!’ the girl declared, indicating the arrow which had sunk to cresting xxviii so that its head had emerged on the other side. Then another, more pressing thought diverted her and she ran the tip of her tongue across her full red lips. The water-pig is good meat. Even a wild one.’
‘Are you hungry?’ Bunduki inquired, looking at her as he was kneeling by the carcass.
‘I have not eaten more than berries and fruit since I escaped from the Mun-Gatahs’ People-Taker three days ago,’ Joar-Fane replied.
Who is he?’ Bunduki asked, removing the broad head from the adapter on the buff-colored arrow’s shaft.
