Snatched

by Vijaya Schartz

  At the edge of the trench, unable to retreat, the Gorgon stood her ground, legs planted wide apart, swirling her mace.

  Zania timed the circumvolution of the double spikes. When she struck again, her blade drove deep into the Gorgon’s abdomen.

  The Gorgon let go of the mace and looked down. Horror twisted her face. She shrieked and dropped her weapon, then hung onto Zania's blade that pierced her.

  Zania felt the exalted pang of victory as she pulled out her blade and shoved the Gorgon back with one foot. Zania stepped back quickly, realizing her booted toes hugged the edge of the pit. Then she watched as the Gorgon toppled backwards. The serpents on her head screeched and spread wide.

  The screaming Gorgon rested for a brief moment, spread-eagle upon the saplings that rustled and cracked ominously. The tiger below snorted. Then the woman fell through and disappeared into the pit along with the branches. The scream ended in a thud. The roar and pounce of the tiger indicated that the Gorgon, if she still lived, would not survive long.

  "How dare you slaughter my second in command?" The menacing voice behind her exuded pure hatred.

  Zania turned around, realizing with horror that she’d not won, not yet. Busy fighting the Gorgon, she hadn’t seen the Amazon queen hoist herself out of the trench.

  Four steps away, Dakini stood, holding one labrys in each hand, ready for a fight. Although she favored a bloody leg, she now held the most advantageous position, and she seemed to have plenty of strength left.

  With her back to the edge of the pit, tired and winded, Zania felt vulnerable. This fight could go either way. Disturbing smells of fresh blood and wet masticating sounds rose from the bottom of the deep hole. At least, she only had one Amazon left to fight, but Zania must gain safer grounds.

  "So, this is it." She hoped to distract Dakini, buy time to maneuver out of the danger zone. "We’ll get to see who is the better warrior after all."

  The Amazon queen flashed a row of white teeth, but her grin exuded malevolence. "Don’t get your hopes too high, upstart. I’ve licked the likes of you time and time again."

  Dakini’s long black hair fell on her shoulders and jerked with each movement of her head as she wielded two labrys in wide windmill circles. Unruly strands streaked her face and fell in front of her eyes. Had she loosened her black tresses last night in hopes of seducing Svend?

  Knowing vanity could prove costly in battle, Zania kept her hair tightly bound. She attempted to circle Dakini, but the queen wouldn’t give up her advantage. Instead, she forced Zania closer to the edge.

  Dakini wielded both labrys with increasing speed. Poisoned blades... The Amazon queen feigned right then left, her face radiating evil enjoyment.

  "Come on, you can do better than that," Dakini taunted as she moved closer with each pass.

  Zania kept her at sword length. She couldn’t afford a test of pure physical strength if Dakini came too close. She also remembered that in the arena Dakini had thrown one labrys. Zania couldn’t let that happen again. This time, she knew the blades were poisoned. She must use that knowledge to her advantage.

  Zania lunged straight for Dakini’s chest. As expected, Dakini whirled both blades in front of her to ward off the attack, then Zania threw her dagger at Dakini’s injured leg.

  Reflexively, Dakini lifted her knee before the complete circle of her two labrys. "Shit!" she yelled as her own labrys nicked her bare thigh.

  Just a scratch. That’s all it would take. Zania rejoiced. She’d almost won. But almost wouldn’t do. She had to finish the job.

  Dakini’s resolve didn’t fade in the face of impending death. With nothing to lose, she brazenly rushed Zania, as if determined to take her into the pit with her.

  Zania side-stepped and turned to watch as Dakini rushed alone into the gaping trap, face first. She screamed as she fell, a cry of pure rage. Somehow she landed on her feet.

  "I will come back from the dead to kill you," Dakini yelled from the bottom of the pit. She threw a labrys at Zania’s head.

  Zania ducked. When she looked again, Dakini grappled with the tiger, her strength diminishing with each passing second.

  Soon, the Amazon queen collapsed then lay still while the tiger ripped opened her belly to feast on her entrails. By a devious twist of fate, Dakini experienced the very death she’d planned for Zania.

  Exhaustion and relief washed over Zania. She turned away from the scene, planted her sword in the ground and fell to her knees. Her throat constricted as she turned her gaze to the pure blue sky. "This is for you, Morrigan. Now you can rest in peace."

  The forest had fallen eerily silent, not just around the small clearing, but the entire jungle... like the calm before the storm. As if the animals feared for their lives, as if some great danger approached. But what?

  The distant mountain rumbled. The ground shook, and it seemed it would never be still again. The mountain bellowed. Thunder split the air. Ripples rolled under Zania’s knees.

  She tried to get, up, lost her balance, and fell half way into the pit, feet first. The tiger roared and pounced. Zania felt the burn of deep gashes in the back of her thigh. In a desperate attempt to escape the deadly claws, Zania grasped at branches, roots and vines. Using the dagger, she pulled herself up over the edge then lay on the ground, winded, heart beating wildly.

  Her leg bled profusely. When her attempt to stand up failed, she decided to wait for the end of the quake, but the ground kept shaking. Would it ever end? This was nothing like the previous tremors.

  The volcano was erupting!

  Chapter Seventeen

  The earth kept trembling and rumbling as Zania picked up Dakini’s labrys and sheathed her sword. Intent on returning to camp and to Svend, she stumbled through the vegetation. Her leg burned and bled profusely from the deep gash of the tiger’s claws. Large trees moaned and cracked as they fell, adding to the thunderous noise. The ground rippled as if someone shook a carpet underfoot.

  A crevice opened in front of Zania, blocking her path. Stepping back she barely avoided the incandescent lava that sprayed high in the air and ignited the surrounding vegetation. The fire quickly spread to bushes then tall flames licked the tree trunks and snaked up to the canopy. Cut off, Zania changed course, but thick smoke stung her eyes and hid the landmarks.

  The heat increased, searing the forest. Zania’s throat dried up, but she had known worse. She remembered the deserts of her home planet, days of march with no water.

  With the volcano capped by the city shields, she must be running on top of a pressure cooker. The lava created new channels to relieve the mounting pressure. Good thing the leaders had chosen the surface rather than the tunnels. By now the old subways would be filling with lava.

  Fallen trees caught fire as streams of incandescent lava incinerated the ground cover. The forest sizzled and steamed like a skillet of hot fajitas. Would the camp be safe? Fortunately, it had no trees and stood on a butte. But where was it?

  The thick smoke obliterated the morning sun, impairing Zania’s sense of direction. Where was north? The moss on rocks and bark didn’t help as it grew on all sides. Trusting her instincts, Zania circled patches of burning forest, struggling to remain standing as she limped and dragged her injured leg across the shaky ground.

  Gradually, she moved out of the fire zone. The breeze dissipated the smoke and she could see the sun again. Soon she heard people yelling. Panicked citizens fled in all directions, screaming or sobbing, eyes wide with fright. Women carried small children, bouncing them as they ran.

  "Stop! Go back!" Zania screamed, gesturing for them to return to camp.

  But they couldn’t understand her and kept running deeper into the jungle, some going toward the blaze.

  "It’s dangerous out there. You are safer in the camp!" Her words drowned in the rumble of the mountain.

  Zania searched for the black armband of a translator but saw none. What happened? Why didn’t Svend prevent this debacle? If anyone could restore order and sanity i
n this chaos, it was him.

  When she caught sight of the elevation and the clearing, few citizens remained in the encampment. As they attempted to leave, the warriors formed a barrier to stop them. Zania crossed the no-man’s land toward the camp, struggling not to favor her injured leg. Warriors never showed weakness.

  She glanced at the volcano, so close on the other side of a small vale, capped by a clear upside-down bowl. The city shields had contained the worst of the eruption, but the dome strained against the pressure. Inside roiled a storm of fiery rocks, deadly gas, lava and ashes.

  Its shape fluctuated and beat like a living beast.

  No wonder the citizens ran. Zania had never seen anything as frightening as this fiery dragon roaring in the distance. Almighty Aries, please hold this beast at bay.

  To think that Grayson braved this inferno saddened Zania. At least, he’d died instantly.

  Inside the camp, the warriors attempted to calm the citizens with little success. In the middle of the clearing, a group of translators with black arm bands argued with Gray. Zania hurried toward them. Gray looked frustrated. Where was Svend?

  "What’s the problem?" Zania yelled when she reached Gray. "Can’t we stop these people from leaving? They are going to die out there!"

  "Good riddance," said a translator. "They are slowing us down."

  When he turned to face her, Zania recognized Coal. Gone was the overly polite attitude. He stood taller than her, piercing dark eyes under a fringe of rebellious black hair, and looked like the leader among the dozen translators. The stable owners? No other citizens would stand so arrogantly and dare challenge a tribal leader, especially in the midst of a crisis.

  Gray motioned toward the traders. "These men refuse to take or transmit orders coming from slaves."

  "Really?" Zania kept her voice cold but inside, she wanted to kill these bastards. Only slave traders would mention slaves. "What about the other translators? There has to be over forty more."

  "They answer to us, now." Coal considered Zania with open disdain.

  Anger choked Zania’s throat. But she had no time for such quarrels and would deal with him later. She turned to Gray. "Where is Svend?"

  "He went after a group of runaways." Gray seemed frozen, unable to act for the first time since Zania met him. While he had faced many dangers with the tribes, as a former guard he still feared his masters.

  Zania held Gray’s eyes. "Why don’t you arrest these miserable insurgents." Where Zania came from, such mutineers would have been executed without a thought. "This little stunt places the whole caravan in jeopardy."

  Coal flashed a malevolent smile. Out of the folds of his gray robe he drew what Zania recognized as a handgun of some kind. His comrades did the same.

  How many more among the citizens had guns? Since such weapons were banned in Dagora, these had to come from alien contraband. Only illegal traders would have access to them.

  Coal smirked, proud of himself. "From now on, you will do as I say."

  Zania wanted to skewer the man, but killing these traders in front of the citizens would increase their fear of the warriors. "So, it’s not enough that you take human slaves and ruin their lives for your sick games?"

  "Shut up!" Coal straightened his back. "I talk. You listen."

  "Think again." Zania hadn’t fought this hard only to let these depraved bastards take over. From the top of her lungs, she called to the warriors in the camp. "Here are the slimeballs who held us captive and killed our friends for their pleasure!"

  Many warriors turned to Zania, anger on their faces. More than fifty Vikings, Amazons, Freemen and Centurions unsheathed their weapons and formed a tight circle around the traders, Zania, and Gray.

  Zania glared at Coal. "If you dare shoot, these trained warriors will rip you and your friends to shreds before you can kill anyone else."

  The volcano remained eerily silent as Zania’s words hung in the air like a doomsday prophecy. The expression on Coal’s face turned from arrogance to uncertainty. He’d likely never been challenged while holding a gun.

  "You underestimated the men and women you enslaved." Zania stood her ground, knowing that she couldn’t beat the laser or the bullet, but she could distract the man from pulling the trigger. "These warriors are ready to risk their lives to end your dirty little trade. Are you willing to die to protect it?"

  Behind Coal, the other stable owners hesitated then lowered their guns. One threw his on the ground and the others followed with reluctance, except for Coal.

  Upon a sign from Zania, two Vikings picked up the weapons.

  Gray cleared his throat. "Give these to warriors who know how to use them."

  The Vikings distributed the guns to the few who raised a hand. A dozen firearms would come handy to protect the caravan from wild beasts.

  But Coal still held his weapon pointed at Zania and showed no sign of weakening. Zania’s bleeding leg felt too sluggish for her to kick the gun out of Coal’s hand. In one swift motion, she drew her sword and severed the man’s hand at the wrist. It flew high in the air, fingers still clasped on the gun.

  Coal screamed as he stared at the jets of blood pulsing from his bloody wrist. Grasping his stump to quench the flow, he whimpered and collapsed.

  "Get him a medic!" Zania ordered then turned to the other rebellious traders. "Now go and tell everyone in the jungle to come back to camp immediately. And if you do not obey, we’ll leave you behind, tied up to a tree, at the mercy of red ants and hungry tigers."

  A doctor with a black arm band and a medical kit came at a run and sat beside Coal to examine the stump. "We need to cauterize it."

  Coal glared at Zania. "Bitch!" he swore under his breath, his eyes full of tears. Then he spit at her feet. Such a pitiful display of weakness.

  Gray motioned to the warriors. "Stay close to these mutineers. At the first sign of defiance, kill them!"

  Zania turned to the Vikings and the Amazons. "Find these foolish citizens before they die in the fires, or end up as lunch for some predators."

  As the warriors scattered to their various tasks, Coal’s scream filled the air, along with the smell of burnt flesh.

  Gray squeezed Zania’s shoulder. "You need to take care of that leg."

  *****

  Svend ran to catch up with the group he’d been tracking. Amazing how fast, and how far, simple folk could run when panicked. What possessed these silly geese to flee at the first sign of eruption? Hadn’t they understood what would happen?

  As he ran, Svend wondered where Zania had gone. She’d disappeared from the camp after Morrigan’s funeral. And Dakini never came back. Zania would have gone after the Amazon Queen to seek revenge. Svend berated himself for letting Zania slip away. He should have remained close to her and faced Dakini by her side.

  He glanced right and left, hoping to get a glimpse of her. Now he could only hope Zania was alive. He found the thought of losing her unbearable. All his selfless work had to deserve a reward in the eyes of the gods, and more than anything, he wanted a life with Zania.

  Tracking signs of citizen’s passage in the underbrush, Svend realized he had spent too many years in captivity. And now that he'd escaped, he felt obligated to save citizens who hated his kind. Worse, they seemed determined to get themselves killed. Ungrateful whelps!

  No amount of planning could have prevented the debacle, yet Svend blamed himself. If he didn’t fix this, these people’s irrational fears would get them killed. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Fortunately, the smoldering jungle seemed empty of wild life. Small game and predators alike had fled for their lives. But fire could kill just as swiftly.

  As he caught up to a score of fleeing citizens, Svend circled the group and blocked the path in front of their leader. According to his black arm band, the man was a translator. Lucky break.

  "You have to go back." Svend used his most convincing voice. "There is nothing in front of you but fire, starvation, and dangers you cannot handle alone. Th
e volcano is stable for now. We have to make the most of it and try to reach true safety."

  The translator looked scared. "We cannot go back. The traders will kill us if we do."

  Baffled by the news, Svend hesitated. "How many traders?" It didn’t take a wizard to realize they must be the stable owners. So Zania had guessed right... again.

  "A dozen or so." The translator’s face tightened with worry.

  Svend forced a reassuring smile. "Two hundred warriors can deal with a dozen traders. Just return the way you came. Follow your own steps back to camp. By now the warriors will have regained control of the situation."

  The translator looked doubtful. "But the traders have guns."

  Svend hid his concern. "We’ve dealt with guns before. We even defeated military robots, for Thor’s sake! We won’t let a dozen bad apples jeopardize this expedition."

  The translator nodded, apparently relieved. He turned to the group and delivered the good news. The citizens exchanged furtive glances then stared at Svend, who nodded and offered his most confident smile. Only partly reassured, the citizens turned around and started back toward the camp at a much slower pace.

  Svend wished he could accompany them to make sure they’d get there safely, but he’d sighted fresh footprints in front of their group. He needed to forge ahead and rescue other foolish deserters.

  As he tracked the faint treads of makeshift boots through mud and brush, Svend picked up a tiny piece of cloth from a thorny bush. Gray cloth. Citizens. Smoke and fire raged ahead. If he wanted to rescue these people, he had to hurry.

  Svend’s thoughts returned to Zania. He wanted to believe she was alive. It seemed he would have known it if she had died. His heart still sang for her. He needed her. She had to be alive, or the universe wouldn’t make sense.

  His tracking led Svend farther away from camp. How far had he traveled? Three kliks? Five? A thick smoke enveloped this portion of the forest. Judging by the direction of the wind, the fire must be to his left and coming at him. But if he took a detour, Svend might not find the runaways’ trail again.