Blood Brothers of Gor

by Norman, John;

  Cuwignaka knelt beside the body of the fallen Yellow Knife. He drew forth his knife. The bound women shuddered. Then they, as Wasnapohdi, looked away.

  "I think you had best dispose of our friend there," I said, indicating the Yellow Knife.

  Cuwignaka nodded. I did not much care to look at it, particularly after Cuwignaka had finished with it. Too, if other Yellow Knives should approach the area it scarcely seemed appropriate to have it lying about.

  In a moment Cuwignaka had returned.

  I saw no sign of approaching Yellow Knives.

  He looked down at the woman who had screamed, and cried, she whom he had silenced with the command of a master and a blow to the side of the face.

  He put the point of his lance under her chin and lifted her head. She was terrified. I could see that he was still angry. The point of his lance dipped, aligned then with the beauty of her soft, bared breasts. Then the point was raised again, lodging itself again under her chin, holding her head up again, cruelly, that she must look at him.

  "Forgive me, Master," she whispered. There was a drop of blood at her chin.

  I myself did not blame her for crying out. She had been frightened. She had been startled. Too, her weeping had been uncontrollable. She had been only a blubbering slave. I wondered if he would kill her.

  "Forgive me, Master," she begged.

  He looked down at her, angrily. Then he withdrew the lance point from her chin.

  Relieved of its pressure she put herself to her back in the dirt before him. She looked up at him, frightened. "Please, forgive me Master," she begged.

  "You are well tied for the pleasures of Yellow Knives," said Cuwignaka scornfully, looking down upon the supine, exotically bound suppliant.

  "Forgive me, Master," she begged. "Please." She opened her legs to Cuwignaka, spreading them even more widely than the nature of her tie required.

  "Why should Yellow Knives be first?" I asked.

  Cuwignaka looked at me.

  "Please, Master," begged the girl.

  "Have you ever had a woman?" I asked.

  "No," he said.

  "Take her," I said. "I will keep the watch."

  The girl gasped, lifted and held.

  "Master!" she breathed.

  "Aiii," cried Cuwignaka, softly.

  "Master, Master," she said. Cuwignaka seemed loathe to let her go. Then he thrust her from him, to her side in the dirt. He stood up.

  "I did not know such pleasures could exist," he said, "such feelings! Such triumph! Such glory!"

  "There is no substitute for a slave female," I said. This had been known to men throughout history.

  Cuwignaka gently, by the hair, pulled the girl to a sitting position. She turned her head and kissed and licked at his leg.

  "Do you think she received pleasure?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Might not a slave dissemble in such a matter?" he asked.

  "Certain things their bodies cannot dissemble," I said. I took the girl by the hair and, gently but firmly, pulled back her head. "Do you see these discolorations," I asked, indicating irregular reddish splotches on her fair skin, "the results of capillary distention?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "They are correlated with her pleasure."

  "Interesting," said Cuwignaka.

  I then turned the girl in profile to him. "Consider her nipples," I said. "They are hard and high, distended, sweet and swollen with blood."

  "Yes," said Cuwignaka.

  "This sign, too," I said, "invariably indicates the presence of sexual pleasure in the human female."

  "Are such things generally known to masters?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "I would suppose so," I said. I then released the girl's hair and she put her head forward, and down, humbly.

  "It would not be in a girl's best interest, then, to dissemble in such a matter," said Cuwignaka.

  "No," I said. "And after a beating or two she will strive with all her might to experience authentic sexual pleasures, and as deeply and fully as possible."

  "Excellent," said Cuwignaka.

  "And thus, in a sense," I said, "she sets herself the task of making herself all the more helplessly her master's slave."

  "Superb," said Cuwignaka.

  The girl turned her head again and, softly, timidly, kissed him on the leg.

  "But whether she experiences pleasure or not is unimportant," I said, "for she is only a slave."

  "Of course," said Cuwignaka.

  The girl put down her head.

  "We must get kaiila," I said.

  "We will look for tracks," he said.

  At the perimeter of the holding area we looked back at the two women sitting, bound, in the dirt. The one who had been so frightened of Cuwignaka, and who had placated him with her bound beauty, was looking after us.

  "I had not known such pleasures could exist," said Cuwignaka.

  "They can be as long or as brief, as superficial or as profound, as you wish," I said.

  He then gave his attention to the ground, looking for tracks.

  I looked back for a time at the two nude, bound women, women who were owned by men, who could be bought and sold, who were slaves.

  "Perhaps you should not have had a slave," I said.

  "Why not?" he asked.

  "They may spoil you for other women," I said.

  24

  We Obtain Kaiila

  The three girls screamed, their tethers dropped, their hands tied behind their back.

  The Yellow Knife behind them, the arrow in his chest, slipped back, awkwardly, turned, and fell heavily into the dust.

  The other Yellow Knife dropped his lance into the attack position, cried out in rage and kicked his heels back into the flanks of the kaiila. The animal leapt toward Cuwignaka.

  "Stay to the outside of his lance!" I cried. Cuwignaka had no shield. He must fend the stroke with his own lance. Had he a shield he might have sought an inside attacking position, fending to the left, striking then toward the opened center. I fitted another arrow to the string. I took it from my hand, where I had held it in readiness, oriented linearly with the bow itself. In the warfare of the red savages the first feed is usually from the bow hand or from the mouth to the string; the second feed is from the quiver to the hand or the mouth. Needless to say the arrow may be moved much more swiftly from the bow hand or the mouth to the string than from the quiver to the string.

  Cuwignaka struck the lance away to his right with his own lance. The passage was so swift he could not bring his own lance over that of his foe. The kaiila stopped almost short, in a scattering of dust, jerked back on its haunches and wheeled about. I lifted and lowered the bow. I could not get a clear shot. In the second passage Cuwignaka darted to his right. His opponent cried out in fury, unable to clear the neck of his kaiila with the lance. Cuwignaka's upward thrust, however, was easily turned by the Yellow Knife's stout war shield, of rawhide thickened and hardened by shrinking over heated stones, from the neck, between the shoulders, or the humped back, behind the head, bearing the trident of the bull kailiauk.

  Again I lowered the bow, cursing, furious, changing my position.

  The kaiila again spun about, scratching, snorting, with an explosion of dust.

  The rider brought the lance over the beast's neck, inside of the shield on his left arm. In this position, the enemy to the left, the rider affords himself the protection of the shield. This is commonly regarded as more than an adequate compensation for the somewhat reduced fanlike ambit of play, that between the shield and the neck of the kaiila, then open to the lance. The kaiila was a trained beast. Its left ear was notched. It would doubtless maneuver in such a way as to keep Cuwignaka on its left in its charge, even changing its attack trajectory, if necessary, to do so.

  I tried to get to the rider's right. Already he had charged. I heard the two shafts crack together, Cuwignaka fending the driving point away, and then, to my dismay, I heard a swift, striking sound, and saw Cuwignaka s
truck from the side of the kaiila, and reeling and staggering backwards, then sprawling, his legs loose under him, to the dust, struck by the passing shield, the weight of the kaiila and rider behind it, his own lance spun from his grip. With a trained kaiila, the animal aligning itself in such a way as to optimize the play of the rider's lance, there is little defense against this sort of thing. Being close enough to sturdily fend the blow brings one, if one is afoot, and shieldless, normally, close enough to risk the strike of the shield. The blow was such that I feared, for a moment, his head struck to the side, that his neck might be broken. The rider spun the kaiila about, to his right, keeping his shield between himself and my arrow. Cuwignaka was on one knee, half risen, shaking his head. His weapon was a dozen feet away. The rider dropped his point for the kill.

  "Down!" I cried.

  Cuwignaka hurled himself headlong under the paws of the kaiila and the lance thrust down, driving into the dust. The kaiila almost atop Cuwignaka then turned again and, again, the lance thrust down. Cuwignaka desperately seized it and it, braced under the Yellow Knife's arm, lifted, pulling him to his feet, skidding and half dragged in the dust. The rider cried out in anger. Cuwignaka clung to the lance. There was blood at the side of his head and run into his left eye. I was now only a few feet from the rider. The rider was bent down, struggling to retain control of the lance. Cuwignaka was between him and my weapon. The rider, not unaware of my presence, jerked the kaiila about, bringing his shield once more between us. The rider jerked at the lance and it tore against the palms of Cuwignaka's hands, blood at the wood. Then he swung the lance down and against the side of the kaiila and Cuwignaka lost his balance and the lance, rolling under the paws of the beast. The Yellow Knife, with a whoop of triumph, brandishing the lance, sped his kaiila forward, to turn it for another passage. I lowered my bow. Cuwignaka was on his feet, sprinting after the rider. I smiled. He would, if the Yellow Knife did not vary his pattern, have time to make his desperate connection. The Yellow Knife jerked his kaiila to a halt, it rearing up, fighting the jaw rope, clawing at the air, and Cuwignaka, almost at the same time, leaped to its back, behind the Yellow Knife. They plunged to the dust. In a moment, Cuwignaka rose to his feet, his knife bloody.

  "I will get the kaiila," I said.

  25

  We Speak with a Kaiila Warrior

  "Look," said Cuwignaka, pointing.

  A rider was approaching, the feathers on his lance streaming behind it, the lance upright.

  We had mounted the two kaiila taken from the Yellow Knives. It felt good to have such beasts beneath us. I had put my bow in the bow case of the Yellow Knife I had slain and added his arrows to my quiver. I had taken, too, his lance and shield. Cuwignaka had recovered his own lance and had added to his armament, too, the shield of the Yellow Knife he had slain. Wasnapohdi, afoot, was at the left flank of my kaiila.

  "He is Kaiila," I said.

  "It is Hci," said Cuwignaka.

  The son of Mahpiyasapa pulled his mount up short near us. "Two Yellow Knives came this way," he said.

  "They went no further," said Cuwignaka.

  Hci looked down at the two bodies, separated by several feet. "Who did this?" he asked.

  "You are alone," said Cuwignaka. "Was it your intention to attack the two Yellow Knives by yourself?"

  "Yes," said Hci.

  "You are a brave man," said Cuwignaka.

  "How is it that you have kaiila?" asked Hci. "Their markings indicate that they are Yellow Knife."

  "These Yellow Knives had no further need of them," said Cuwignaka.

  "How is it that a slave is armed?" asked Hci, regarding me.

  "He has my permission," said Cuwignaka.

  "Who slew these Yellow Knives?" asked Hci.

  "Are you disappointed that it was not you?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "No," said Hci. "It does not matter. I have taken many coups today."

  I noted that Hci's shield, almost as though it were alive, seemed to move. It seemed he had to hold it steady, close to him. I had never seen anything precisely like this before.

  "Who slew them?" asked Hci.

  "Two who lay in wait for them," said Cuwignaka. He, too, obviously, noted the shield of Hci. It seemed that Hci, almost with the strength of his arm, must restrain it. Then the shield was again calm, again seemingly no more than a device of leather, one painted with designs and ornamented with feathers.

  "Isbu?" asked Hci.

  "One was Isbu and one was not," said Cuwignaka.

  "Do you know their names?" asked Hci.

  "Yes," said Cuwignaka.

  "What are they?" asked Hci.

  "'Cuwignaka'" and 'Tatankasa'," said Cuwignaka.

  "This is a dark and bloody day for the Kaiila," said Hci. "Do not make sport with your cleverness."

  "Forgive me," said Cuwignaka.

  "You have presumed, even, to put bloody trophies at your belt," observed Hci. "Whence did you obtain them?"

  "I took them from some fellows I found lying about," said Cuwignaka, dryly.

  "Do not forget that you are only a woman and a slave," said Hci, regarding us.

  "I am not a woman," said Cuwignaka, quietly.

  "You have kaiila now," said Hci. "That is good. You now have an opportunity to flee."

  "Is the camp lost?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "No," said Hci. "We are holding it."

  "We shall not fly then," said Cuwignaka.

  "Those who slew the Yellow Knives," said Hci, "have they fled?"

  "No more than we," said Cuwignaka.

  "Should you come again into contact with them," said Hci, "inform them that our forces may be joined near the council lodge."

  I had thought that the resistance would organize itself in that area. It was at the center of the camp. Too, it was on high ground.

  "I understand," said Cuwignaka.

  "Will you deliver the message?" asked Hci.

  "You may consider it delivered," said Cuwignaka.

  "Good," said Hci. He then turned his kaiila, but, again, pulled it up short. He turned back to face us. "Mahpiyasapa has returned," he said. "He and Kahintokapa, of the Yellow-Kaiila Riders, are commanding the defense. We fear only the return of the Kinyanpi, the Flighted Ones."

  "May I speak?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Hci.

  "Such may be met," I said. "Watonka and his party wore yellow scarves or sashes that they might be recognized by the Kinyanpi. Your warriors, too, might adopt that device. In this way the Kinyanpi may be confused as to who to fire upon, particularly in the minglings of combat. Too, consider the deployment of archers in the corridors of aerial attack, to protect your riders. Sharpened stakes can discourage talon attacks. Ropes stretched between lodges can interfere with low-flight attacks and impede attempted landings. Cloths and covers, even separated and strung above the ground, can provide protective concealments, some serving to hide what is actually beneath them, particularly from high altitudes, others serving as patterns distractive to archers, patterns which make it difficult to target the objects they shelter, both with respect to their movements and locations."

  "Have you seen such things done effectively?" asked Hci.

  "Yes," I said.

  "I will speak to Mahpiyasapa," said Hci.

  "Grunt is my friend," I said. "Did he return to the camp with Mahpiyasapa?"

  "Yes," said Hci. "He is with us."

  "Good," I said.

  "Hci," said Cuwignaka.

  "Yes?" said Hci.

  "What of Watonka?" asked Cuwignaka. "Does he fight with the Yellow Knives?"

  "It had been my intention to kill him," said Hci. "I rode to the camp of the Isanna. I found him there. He was already dead. So, too, were some others. I think they were killed by the Yellow Knives who had been with them. It had been done not with arrows, but knives. Too, the Yellow Knives were gone. It was probably done when the attack of the Kinyanpi began. They did not need him any more then."

  "What of Bloketu?" asked Cuwignaka.
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  "The traitress?" asked Hci.

  "Yes, Bloketu, the traitress," said Cuwignaka.

  "I do not know," said Hci.

  "You did not find her among the dead," said Cuwignaka.

  "No," said Hci.

  "The Yellow Knives must have taken her," said Cuwignaka.

  "Perhaps," said Hci.

  I myself had little doubt as to the fate of the lovely, betrayed traitress. I recalled the coils of supple rope which Iwoso, her maiden, had worn at her belt. Too, I had little doubt that Iwoso, long before the attack, working in secret, in anticipation, had prepared a beaded collar for her mistress. Iwoso, for her part in the attack, would now be an important woman among the Yellow Knives. A woman of such importance, of course, should have her own maiden.

  "As you are only a woman and a slave," said Hci, "it would be my advice, since you have kaiila, that you flee."

  "Thank you for your consideration," said Cuwignaka. Indeed, in my opinion, Hci was, at least in his own mind, trying to be courteous and helpful. He did think of Cuwignaka, for the most part, as though he were a woman, and he would think of me, naturally enough, in terms of my collar. His remark was intended to be, and I think Cuwignaka understood it in this way, in our best interest. It seemed a new Hci with whom we spoke, one far less vain and arrogant than the one we had known.

  "If you wish, on the other hand, to come to the area of the council lodge, to huddle there with the women and children, you may do so," he said. "The way to the council lodge, at this point, is clear."

  "Thank you," said Cuwignaka.

  "But there will be fighting there," said Hci.

  "We understand," said Cuwignaka.

  Hci then turned his kaiila about and rode from us.

  "Did you see the movement of his shield before?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "Yes," I said. "I have never seen anything like that. It is eerie."

  "I am afraid," said Cuwignaka.