The first glimpse I had of this strange world took place as though on a screen which had been shoved onto my mind of a sudden. We were in some sort of cave. The walls glowed redly from the reflections of hidden fires. Lovah, stark-naked, was dancing about a figure bound to a stake. She was brandishing a pitchfork. Another figure stalked in from off stage somewhere. I recognized myself. I watched myself move forward toward the nude figure cavorting about the stake and the man tied to it. Then I wasn’t watching anymore; I was myself walking toward Lovah. She was singing a tune but the words did not make sense:
“Old Loko’s hanging from a stake;
Old Loko’s but a broken rake.
Soon he’ll fry,
We must turn him.
Soon he’ll fry,
Soon we’ll burn him.
Old Loko’s hanging from a stake;
Brittle bones, bones will break.”
From ten feet off I took an immense leap, like that of a male ballet dancer, and landed beside Lovah.
“Ho-ho!” I chortled. “We have the old buzzard now, haven’t we? My pet, I worked hard over the fires, but they’ll make the labor worth it when we fry him. Have you pricked him to see how the juice runs?”
Lovah did a pirouette completely around the old man tied to the stake. She laughed gayly and a deep groan echoed the light sound. The groan came from Loko. At the sound Lovah stopped dancing and I came close.
“Please,” the old man said. “Spare this old greybeard . . .”
“Grey beard,” I said in fine scorn. “Why there isn’t a hair on that bald dome of yours and not even fuzz on that chiny-chin-chin you call a chiny-chin-chin.”
“Rhetoric,” the old man replied. “Merely rhetoric. A phrase. A passing thought. But, and this is more to the point, surely you would not harm an old, old man like me.”
Lovah and I burst into delighted laughter. She whirled lightly about me and came to rest at my side, her eyes laughing up to mine and her ilps inviting a kiss. I accepted the invitation. Loko groaned at sight of it.
“Oh, don’t pay any attention to the old frastrate,” Lovah said. “He’s just jealous. He’s just jealous because we’re going to eat and he isn’t . . .”
“Ho-ho,” I laughed again. “He isn’t going to eat. He’s just going to be the eaten.”
“Spare me! Spare me,” the old jerk groaned.
“Spear him! Spear him, he says. Spear himmmmm . . .”
THE words died away in a long humming sound. The scene faded. The world of fantasy collapsed. Only the hum remained. I came back to reality to the sound of that hum. And found it was I who was making the sound.
“. . . Berk . . . oh, man of mine . . . please! Hear me . . .”
Her cheeks were dew-wet against mine from the tears she had she. Her voice was a sobbing entreaty which I could not deny. Strange, I thought, and it was the first time in the eons which had passed that I had been able to bring thought to my tortured mind. I can no longer feel the whip.
Her voice went on, her breath tickling my neck:
“. . . Stop doing that, Berk. Not any more. I can’t stand it. I’ll break too if you don’t stop . . .”
“It’s stopped, honey,” I said. “Guess I went off the deep end. What happened? The guy get tired?”
Her head went back and her eyes were bright as stars and twice as beautiful. Her lips managed a smile. But two last tears coursed down the paths others had sown and hung poised, like wondrous jewels, on the curve of her cheeks. I would have given the breath of my life to lift my hands and brush them into a cup to hold precious forever.
“N-no. I think you fainted and Loko told him to stop.”
“Well, that was nice of Loko. I can’t say that I don’t appreciate it. I’m puzzled, though . . .”
Her eyes asked a question.
“. . . My back,” I said. “It should at least smart. But I don’t feel a thing. Hey! Maybe I’m just numb from taking it?”
“No. They covered you with some sort of salve. I saw them place it on you.”
“Ho, slaves,” Loko suddenly announced he was still alive. “Undo the bonds about the two but leave them bound.”
They turned us so that we were facing the three up there. That is I thought there were three. It turned out there were four. The fourth was one of the women warriors. She was leaning over Loko’s shoulder, talking earnestly to him in low tones, accenting with her hands actions she wanted to bring to light. The other two were listening absorbedly also. Loko kept shaking his head as though in agreement. After a moment of this she turned and leaped from the dais and strode from the room.
The three then brought their heads together and after several seconds of talk Mita and the other also rose and departed. Loko turned his full attention to us:
“I suppose I must forego the balance of this,” he said. “Matters of state have come up. Of interest to you two also. The she-devil, Luria and the rest of them will soon be in my clutches. Perhaps it is best that I save the two of you for the time when there will be other rebels and traitors to keep you company. Throw them into adjoining cells so that they might hear each other’s agony . . .”
THE instant the cell door clanged shut I rushed to the bars and called to Lovah:
“All right, baby?”
“Oh, yes. But now that the ordeal is at end for you, I feel this prison. We must break loose somehow.”
She had a great idea, my Lovah honey had. There was but one thing wrong with it. When Hank and I had been thrown into this clink they just left us there. Not this time. Directly outside our doors about midway between them stood a guard against the opposite wall. And now and then I saw the shadow of a marching man pass across the outside bars of our little cages.
“I think we’re stuck here for a while,” I said. “But always remember that what sticks you can get unstuck.”
It was small consolation but it had to do.
The sound of the warders who had brought us to our cells died away in the distance. The oddly quivering stillness of the prison settled on us. I started to turn from the bars to see what the land looked like on the outside when I saw our guard approaching. He placed his face close to the door bars and whispered:
“Loko is a traitor.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know . . .” I stopped and the light burst on me. One of Loko’s own men calling him a traitor. Hope kindled anew in my breast. Lovah must have seen the man step to my cell but she couldn’t hear what was being said.
“Aye,” the guard said. “A deep-dyed traitor. He has lied to us. The Holy Bird has said so. I heard it . . .”
“So?” I acted with reserve.
“It is not right. He tells the people the Holy Bird says he is the rightful ruler.”
“So why don’t you spill the beans. I mean speak up! Tell someone who can do something about it.”
“He would have me killed,” the guard said.
“Does anyone beside you know this?” I asked.
“Yes. My brother. He was with me when news of your capture came to him. He told the Holy Bird in his mean gloating voice about it. It was then we heard. Loko must have forgotten our presence.”
“Where is your brother now?” I asked.
“He will relieve me soon,” the man said.
“And you in turn will relieve him?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you think you can bring the bird to me?” I asked.
He shook his head that he could. I smiled but his face and eyes remained grim. “Loko has gone on the field. It is said that his forces have surrounded the rightful Queen, Luria. It will be some time before he returns. I will return soon.”
Nor was it long before the brother showed up. He brought with him trays of food for us. The two of them divided up the time waiting on us which amounted to their shoving the bowls into our cells and waiting until we were done. Then the first gathered up the empty bowls and went off.
I paced the cell in what seemed in endless procession until his
return. He carried the bird in the open, and marched straight up to the cell, thrust the bird in on me and said:
“Loko will wonder greatly where the bird is. Nor will he know for a length of time. Perhaps by then he may find the means to escape him. Until then be at peace.”
I WANTED to kiss the character.
What a sweet guy. Be at peace. It was a long time since I’d heard that phrase. I looked down at the parrot on my wrist. The blamed bird seemed asleep. Carrying carefully, I stepped out of sight of the man on the outside the cell. Our new-found friend had been careful to make the transfer during the time the outside guard was out of sight.
My bunk was below window level. I sat down and peered at the parrot. Suddenly one eye opened and blinked several times as though brushing the sleep from its lids. Then the other eye showed life also. We regarded each other without change of expression for several seconds. The bird was the first to break silence:
“You’re about the ugliest man I’ve ever seen,” it said.
I hadn’t known what to expect from it, certainly not that. I felt the heat rise all the way from my toes to my face. As if I wasn’t having enough trouble, this scrawny thing had to give me more.
“Brother,” I said. “Every time you open your yap, every time you crack that way, you lose ten years from your life expectancy. Now why can’t you behave?”
“The truth will out,” the bird said.
“Nobody asked for it,” I said, my voice rising a bit.
“I was just thinking of the future,” the bird said. “The day of the woman is past. Loko can’t lose. My daughter can but stave off defeat for a certain length of time. The inevitable must happen . . .”
A laugh that was as bitter as gall choked me up. For the first time since we’d come to this infernal place despair bored a hole in my breast. This bird was telling the truth and we were going to pay the consequences. My hand fell and the bird hopped off my wrist and onto the bed. I saw then that its wings had been clipped. Loko thought of everything.
“. . . No,” it went on. “Loko can’t lose. Yet oddly, he can’t win. A paradox, no?”
“Who cares?” I asked.
“You do,” he said. “You want to live, don’t you? The girl in the cell next door; she makes life worth the struggle, doesn’t she?”
I lifted my head.
“You have been beaten, whipped, wounded. All in vain? You fought back, but you lost. Now you have a valid reason for fighting. I can see through the veil of time, but because the veil is not of one thickness alone, I cannot see all the way. This I can see. A level plain bound on two sides by a forest, on the third by a river and the fourth side by a deep valley.
“Two armies are drawn up on the plain. They clash and all is confusion, all is terror and all is lost to sight because they have lost their integral distinctions. They are mixed and are one. Now they separate into distinct groups, each fighting an individual war of its own. Now from the forest comes a new force. They are mounted on paavans and they are all men. They ride, like a spearhead of fate, into the thick of the warring groups. They ride close, slash off segments of these groups and ride off before retaliation can be given. At their head rides a bareheaded man with the face of an eagle. His eyes are alight with the look of a conqueror, and his set features have the look of judgment. Now others rally around his standards. He becomes a wedge driving his sword points deep into the heart of his enemy. They scatter and flee and from all sides are beset by their opponents and chopped to bits.
“Now I see something which was not plain before. A woman and man had been the leaders before. They are no longer there. They have disappeared. I see them again and they are bound to the mounts of a fleeing couple. The woman is unconscious . . .”
I DIVINED what he was trying to tell me. Luria and Hank . . . I rose and slammed my fist into the wall and the grey dust powdered and flaked around my fist.
“. . . They are met by a company of warriors riding toward the scene of battle. Now all turn and make full speed toward the rear. And in the lead is an old man, a man I once knew full well. Loko . . .”
I bent my head:
“I’ve got to get out of here!” I gritted harshly. “Do you understand? I’ve got to get out of here! And take Lovah with me.”
“Once you learned your strength,” the bird said. “Have you forgotten it?”
I lifted him to my shoulders. His clawed clutch bit deep into the flesh yet I didn’t notice it. I waked straight to the door and clutched with both hands at the bars. Their coldness seemed to defie me. The guard looked at me with wonder in his eyes.
“The one outside will see you,” he said with apprehension.
“Open the door,” I said. “We’re getting out of here.”
I could read the indecision in his eyes. Now I heard the shouted warning of the one at the window. He had seen the bird on my shoulder. I couldn’t risk waiting. Setting my feet firmly I yanked with a sudden pull in which all my strength was exerted. There was a ripping sound as the door was pulled from the stone and I staggered backward, the weight of the metal frame in my two hands. Hurling it to one side I leaped forward to face the astonished guard.
“With us . . .?” I asked.
He made up his mind. “Yes. My brother, too. Shall I get him?”
“Yes. Quickly! But leave me your sword and open the other cell first.”
Lovah flew into my arms and buried her head on my shoulders. I let her rest there for a few seconds. I could hear the bellowing voice of the man outside grow faint as he sped to spread the alarm. But we had to wait the coming of the brothers. But they did not come alone. There were others with them, a dozen others, all armed and all willing to lay down their lives the instant they saw the bird. Lovah was given a sword, and with one of the brothers in the lead we started on the road to freedom.
“Where are we bound for?” I asked, as we ran full speed down the twisting lengths of the corridors.
“The throne room,” one of the brothers replied. “Loko has returned with Luria and the stranger who came with you from the other world.”
The news lent wings to our already flying feet. Then I noticed that we weren’t running by the same path I’d been taken. Suspicion raised its head in my breast. As though reading my mind the one in the lead gasped:
“The other way we’d meet those coming to bar our path. This way is longer but safer.”
He was right.
We rushed into the throne room from a side entrance but one that was all the way at the far end. So intent were those in the room on what was taking place before the dais, they didn’t even see us. I could understand their intent.
Hank and Luria were in the same position as Lovah and I had been only a short time before. The only difference being that they were not bound together. Further, they had been made to kneel before Loko and the other two. Loko was on his feet, a look of mad fury on his wrinkled face. His arms were raised above his head and I could hear the thin screech of his voice all the way across the room:
“You will not die quickly, I promise that. I will make life drain from your bodies as the sweat labors from it on heaty days. I will have my revenge—I will make it last to your bitter end.
. . . They will come too late, and seeing your lifeless bodies will give up the struggle . . .”
HE STOPPED, warned by the shouts of the guards and the two men beside him. He took one look at us, turned and scampered backward to seek refuge behind his warrior men.
In an instant a solid wall of guards had been formed before the two captives. We hit them and it was like plowing into an immensely thick rubber band. We hit and bounced back. This time I took the lead, when we charged forward again. I swung my sword like a man swings a reaper and whatever it touched became two. My men seemed charged with the same fury as I. They hacked and stabbed with terrible effect. But once more we were too few. Reason and sanity left me. I was a wild animal. Strange sounds came from my throat. Screams of madness, shouts of delirium. Fear was p
lain on the faces of those facing me. For a few moments they gave before my attack, enough for me to win to the sides of the kneeling man and woman. It took just the time of two sword swipes and they were free. Then they were at my side and swinging with me.
More and more guards kept joining in the fray. We were outnumbered fifty to one. But not for long. Suddenly there were shouting voices, voices which sent echoes of “Luria” echoing about the stone walls, and from all sides warriors streamed in to join the battle, Luria’s warriors.
Our opponents melted from our sight, streaming to join their leaders in flight. But not for long. We had Captain Mita and the giant who had sworn to do things to Hank and me, to reckon with. Even from my small experience in this pest-hole I knew what a maze it was. We discovered it was a perfect place for defense. Each corridor had been built with that purpose in mind. Ten men could hold back a hundred in their narrow reaches. And there were dozens of corridors.
We had won the throne room. But we had also won to the heart of Loko’s empire. We soon discovered that we had not won a complete victory. It might, we also discovered, become a Pyrhic victory. Loko was a long way from giving up the struggle.
Ever since we had been rescued from the tented compound where we had been prisoner, I had wondered why the use of bow and arrow had not been more universal. Later I was told that they had not as yet become proficient in its use. Loko’s men were. Or those he had trained. Suddenly a hail of arrows met our advancing forces. It was only fortunate that we were not in the open. As it was those barbed shafts kept us at bay. And once more it was Jimno who devised an impromptu escape from them.
“Small groups,” he shouted, taking the play away from Luria as naturally as though it had been God-given. “Six and eight to each. Go low—and keep moving. Stab and go on. Don’t let yourselves be targets.”
As though they had been trained in the new maneuver for a lifetime, they followed the command to perfection. Now when a man or woman fell it was a single one and not as before, by fives and sixes.
Queen of the Panther World Page 12
