by J. T. Edson
Bunduki decided that he could avert the possibility by impressing them with his physical prowess. It would have a far greater effect than would be achieved by killing with a means that they might not be able to comprehend. To defeat the dominant male with his bare hands was the best way to attain his ends.
Changing his point of aim, Bunduki loosed the arrow. It flashed forward to strike the bulbous upper end of the club. Impaling it, the buff-colored fiber glass shaft wrenched the weapon from Bul-Mok’s hands. A startled, almost barking exclamation burst from the dominant male’s lips and he sprang backwards in alarm. Staring at the arrow, which was projecting through the head of the club, the other three bulls retreated just as hurriedly.
Having regained her breath and discovered that she was still alive and unharmed, the girl had remained in the crouching position, but she was now watching her defender with awe and considerable interest. Although her people told stories about them, few could claim to have seen the ‘Hairy Men’ and then only from a distance and with the width of the Big River between them. Certainly not even the most boastful could claim to be able to speak the ‘Hairy Men’s’ language, yet the blond stranger apparently could do so.
Knowing the purpose of the bow, although she had never seen one as powerful as that held by her giant rescuer, the girl had expected him to send its arrow into the ‘Hairy Man’s’ chest. She was puzzled when he deliberately contented himself with knocking the club from the advancing bull’s hands. What he did next changed her perturbation into active alarm.
Without taking his eyes from the Mangani, Bunduki laid his bow on the ground alongside the girl and walked by her. To her horror, he made no attempt to draw the big knife that was hanging from his belt.
‘Go!’ the blond giant ordered, pointing to the left side of the clearing.
Bul-Mok had been afraid of the intruders strange weapon, realizing that it had qualities beyond anything his club or a branch-spear possessed. Seeing that Tar-Ara had laid it down, the dominant male decided that he could take the chance of making another attack. At six-foot-five, size and weight were in his favor. So were the big canine teeth in his powerful jaws. Once he came to close quarters, he would be avenged. With a menacing roar, he bounded forward and his huge hands reached out ready to take hold.
Watching Bul-Mok bearing down on him, Bunduki felt confident of victory. The Mangani might have learned how to make and use primitive weapons, but they obviously still relied upon brute strength when fighting barehanded. With his very thorough education in various forms of self defense and unarmed combat, the blond giant knew a number of excellent ways to handle such bull-headed tactics.
Taking a couple of long strides, to make sure he was well clear of the girl, Bunduki flashed up his hands to grasp Bul-Mok’s right wrist. Turning the trapped hand palm upwards, he pivoted swiftly until his back was to the Mangani and the elbow of the fur-covered arm rested on his left shoulder. By sinking to his right knee and levering on the arm, he catapulted Bul-Mok over him. Turning a half somersault, with the blond giant still holding his wrist, the Mangani alighted on his back with a bone-jarring thud. Nor were his troubles at an end.
Retaining his hold, Bunduki stepped over the supine Bul-Mok and rolled him on to his stomach. Before the winded Mangani recovered his breath or scattered wits, his captor had dropped to ram both knees on to the base of his spine. Having done so, Bunduki transferred his hands and cupped them under Bul-Mok’s chin. Interlacing his fingers, he drew the head back and forced downwards with his knees.
Massive muscles bulged and writhed as the blond giant bent his victim’s spine in an agonizing and dangerous fashion. Half-strangled, winded and partially dazed, Bul-Mok could do no more than beat his fists futilely on the ground in a frenzy of pain.
Even as Bunduki started to apply what would have been the final, fatal pressure, he once more had the sensation of being watched. Not just by the other occupants of the clearing either, although they were taking a considerable interest in what was going on. The scrutiny. seemed to be originating elsewhere, possibly from among the trees that encircled the clearing, but he refused to permit it to distract him. Instead of trying to locate the unknown observers, he concentrated his attention on matters closer at hand.
Showing an ever-increasing excitement, the three young males—particularly Bal-Tak—watched their father’s predicament. Squealing and grunting without the sounds forming understandable words, they jumped up and down like excited gorillas or chimpanzees. Despite that, they kept their distance. There could, they all realized, be no intervention in such a conflict. As Bul-Mok had clearly accepted the strange-looking white creature as a Mangani, it must be settled between the two participants.
The younger brothers were merely restive and excited, but Bal-Tak had an even deeper interest. Being second in the line of the hierarchy, he could recognize the threat to his status and position. If the strange white skin, who clearly knew the ways of the Mangani, defeated Bul-Mok—which now seemed very likely—he could assume command of the family. That would mean he became the dominant male whom Bal-Tak must eventually challenge and overthrow to assume command.
Although possessing less than a human being’s powers of reasoning, Bal-Tak’s sentience warned him that, being younger, Tar-Ara would be much more difficult than Bul-Mok to depose. Having managed to draw that conclusion, however, his intelligence was insufficient to find a solution. Certainly the thought of going to his father s assistance never occurred to him.
Assuming a kneeling posture, the girl stared at the giant man who had saved her. She feasted her eyes on his handsome face and wonderfully well-developed body, rapidly losing her fear of the ‘Hairy Men’. The fright was being replaced by another, more pleasurable sensation.
Ever since the girl could remember, she had been told stories of a great jungle god who rescued Telonga maidens in distress. Although she had never really believed that such a person existed, for nobody had ever seen him, she now felt compelled to change her mind. The magnificent white-haired giant had certainly come to her aid in a time of greater danger than she had ever previously known. Apart from his light color, he was assuredly all that she would have expected of a jungle god. No man of her people—not even At-Vee, the Hunter—could equal her saviors handsome features, enormous size and exceptional muscular development.
As the girl recollected what the legends claimed would happen after the maiden was saved, she wriggled her shapely body in ecstatic anticipation. Excitedly and eagerly, she thought of the love making which she felt sure was coming once the jungle god had driven away the ‘Hairy Men’.
With the Manganis spine on the point of breaking, Bunduki refrained from applying the final pressure. He had no wish to kill, or seriously injure—which would most likely have the same result—Bul-Mok unless there was no other choice. It was possible that the need to do so would not arise. In all forms of status-conflict between males of the same species, there were ways of bringing the affair to an end without the need to kill the loser. From what Tarzan and Korak had told him, Bunduki knew what he could do to avoid terminating the Manganis life.
‘Surrender?’ the blond giant demanded, loosening his grip slightly without entirely relinquishing the painful hold.
‘Surrender!’ Bul-Mok conceded, after a moment’s pause, knowing that the offer was unlikely to be repeated.
Although each had made the same phonetic word-sound, ‘Ka-goda’ the difference in the timbre of their voices showed that one had asked a question and the other had given an answer.
Separating his hands on receiving Bul-Mok’s reply, Bunduki leapt to his feet and stood astride his defeated rival’s recumbent body. Watched by the girl and the three younger males, he tossed back his head and roared forth the victory call of a bull Mangani. There was no immediate response from Bal-Tak or his brothers, but somewhere to the north-west came a distant reply and another sounded faintly from the east. That implied there were other bands of Mangani in the jungle. However, both gro
ups were much too far away to concern him.
Having signaled his victory in the accepted manner, Bunduki turned his back on the three young males. Smiling and apparently satisfied that he had achieved his purpose, he started to walk towards the kneeling girl.
Letting out a snarl of rage, Bal-Tak leapt into motion. He swung the branch-spear above his head in both hands, intending to drive its sharpened end into the unsuspecting blond giant’s back.
Chapter Four – I’ll Let You Have Your Revenge
Realizing that she had no other choice, Dawn Drummond-Clayton came to a halt and turned.
She was not a moment too soon!
In fact, she had almost left it too late!
Already the harpy eagle’s broad, shortish wings were lifting it higher, in preparation for the deadly downwards plunge onto its prey. From its powerful curved beak burst a hideous shriek that was intended to paralyze its victim with fright during the final stages of the attack.
Reversing its wing beats and spreading its tail feathers, the eagle inclined its body almost vertically. It thrust the sturdy yellow legs forward, directing the deadly implements with which it made its kill towards its prey. The huge, hooked claws—the ones at the rear not quite as long but thicker than those of a Kodiak bear, the largest carnivorous land animal in the world—opened to a span as great as the hand of a big man. They were ready to drive into and clamp hold of its victim’s flesh.
For once, the terror-inducing scream was failing to achieve its purpose. The creature at which it was flying was far more dangerous than the arboreal animals and large jungle birds that formed the eagle’s natural prey. Nor was the girl a slave with bound arms, as the other human beings at whom it had been flown invariably were. They had been unable to fight back, but she could.
Adopting her shooting stance, Dawn made ready to defend herself. While her left hand started to raise the bow, the fingers of her right were manipulating the string and arrow. A draw of twenty-eight inches was required to flex the limbs sufficiently to obtain their full power. Before she had attained a quarter of that distance, she knew there would not be enough time for her to achieve it.
Ever nearer swooped the huge bird. The six-foot-six-inch spread of the broad wings, the width of its breast and the great fan of the rather long, squared-off tail seemed to be blocking out the sky. Its enormous curved talons appeared to be growing bigger as they rushed in the girl’s direction.
After having gained no more than seventeen inches of the draw, Dawn did not dare wait any longer. She was aiming by instinctive alignment. However, at such short range, it would be accurate enough for her needs. Unhooking her fingers, she released the straining string.
The arrow was propelled forward, but at far less than the full seventy pounds’ pressure.
Would it have gathered sufficient momentum to achieve its purpose?
Across the chasm, the riders were watching with considerable interest and mixed emotions.
Dryaka, High Priest of the Mun-Gatah nation, had been furious when Charole sent her harpy eagle after the girl. Although his original thoughts had been of the libidinous pleasures he would have at the expense of the beautiful stranger after her capture, he had decided that she might serve an even more useful purpose. Clearly she was strong and had claimed to be a warrior. Perhaps she could help him to dispose of the greatest threat to the powerful position which he held among his people.
For her part, Charole had guessed what the high priest had had in mind when she noticed the change in the way he had been studying the girl across the chasm. Charole could only retain her rights and title of Protectress of the Quagga God as long as no other woman could wrest them from her. Just as she constantly hoped to find a man who would destroy Dryaka for her, so the High Priest was forever seeking a woman capable of deposing her. Knowing that her removal from office was the main reason for Dryaka’s desire to see Dawn captured, Charole had been determined that the girl would be seriously injured—or killed—before she fell into their hands.
Having launched the eagle, the Protectress settled comfortably on her saddle. Real cruelty showed on her beautiful face as the bird sped upon its mission and she ignored Dryaka’s obvious displeasure at her actions.
There were few of the Mun-Gatah people, brave warriors as many of them undoubtedly were, who would have dared to deliberately incur the High Priest’s wrath. However, while Dryaka possessed great power, Charole could claim to be of equal importance. As Protectress of the Quagga God, particularly while she had the active support of three out of the six members of the ruling Council of Elders, she had little to fear from the scowling man by her side. In fact, as long as she held her high office and could claim the backing of sufficient followers, she was virtually the co-ruler of the Mun-Gatah nation.
Watching the eagle swooping towards Dawn, Charole smiled. It had been trained to tackle human beings, although they had up to that point always been bound and helpless slaves. The results had always been highly entertaining and she felt sure that they would be even more so on this occasion. Having seen the terrible damage that the bird could inflict with its talons and beak, she doubted whether the stranger would pose any further threat to her after the completion of the attack.
Realizing that Charole had deduced the real reason for his interest in Dawn, Dryaka was equally aware of the girl’s danger. Much as he would have liked to call a warning when Dawn had not appeared to know that the eagle was following her, he had known better than to do so. The balance of power between himself and the Protectress was so even that it might easily be tilted in either’s favor. If he had helped a foreigner, especially should she escape as a result of it, he would be placing a powerful lever in his rival’s hands. Nor would she be slow in making use of it. As always, the hunting party was comprised of an equal number of his and her supporters. Let him lose control of his adherents’ loyalty and he might never again see the Temple of the Quagga God.
With that in mind, Dryaka drew what consolation he could as he saw the girl had become aware of her peril and was turning to meet it. If she could not protect herself, then she lacked the qualities which he required. To handle that unusual, powerful-looking bow would call for strength and skill. If those qualities were matched by fighting prowess—and, apart from the Telonga, most of the nations had their share of women warriors—her capture might provide him with the means to remove Charole. When that had been brought about, he would ensure the next Protectress was somebody more amenable to his will. He hoped that Dawn would prove worthy of his confidence.
Dryaka would very soon know the answer!
Holding her breath, Dawn watched the arrow and the diving eagle as they converged and met. Their combined speeds caused the four-blade Bear Razorhead’s needle-sharp point to impale the black-plumed breast and its quadruple cutting edges slashed their way through to reach the vital organs.
Almost as soon as the arrow had passed beyond the bow’s handle-riser, Dawn flung herself aside. She saw the eagle jerk upon being hit. Screaming in agony, its controlled diving flight turned into a dying plunge earthwards. One wildly flailing wing brushed her shoulder in passing, but she had avoided any serious—or even minor—injury. Swinging around and reaching to pivot an arrow from the bow-quiver, she watched the bird’s death throes as it crashed to the ground and felt a touch of sympathetic sorrow for having been the cause of them.
‘May the Quagga God stamp you dead, foreign bitch!’
Redolent of feminine hatred and anger, the screamed out words reached Dawn’s ears and drew her attention from the magnificent creature that she had been compelled to kill. Nocking the arrow to the bow’s string, she swung her gaze to the people on the other side of the chasm. The second group were riding down the slope and, having leapt from his zebra, the eagle’s attendant started shaking his fists furiously at the girl.
However, it was the gold-clad beauty and the tall man who were of the most interest to Dawn. The woman was screaming more curses and seemed almost besides her
self with rage. Although the girl could not be certain at that distance, she got the impression that the man was pleased by her escape from the eagle.
Cold anger started to surge through Dawn as she listened to some of the vile threats that the woman was shrieking at her. She became filled with an almost uncontrollable desire to silence the other’s raging voice by serving her in the same way that she had treated the eagle. Before Dawn could stop herself, she raised and began to draw the bow.
Charole’s furious tirade died away as she saw what the girl was doing. Alarm bit at her as she realized just how vulnerable to reprisals she was. The powerful looking bow would propel its arrow at her as easily as the eagle had winged across the chasm and be even more deadly if it struck home.
For a moment Charole was tempted to fling herself from the saddle and hide behind her quagga’s body. She restrained the impulse just in time, being aware of how Dryaka’s clique and, even more important, her own followers would react to such a display of cowardice. Flickering a glance at the High Priest, she found that he was watching her. The mocking sneer on his face implied that he had noticed her fear and deduced what she had been contemplating. In which case, there was no easy way in which she could avoid the danger.
With the bow in the shooting position and its arrow almost drawn to the full, reason returned to Dawn. The two riders were drawing closer and every second’s delay was decreasing her already slim chances of reaching the woodland. Turning her head, she discovered that they were less than a quarter of a mile away.