by J. T. Edson
Keeping moving, Dawn .threw several glances towards the chasm. To her relief, all of the riders had gone upstream. They were not making any especial efforts to keep her under observation. Of course, providing that they were capable of doing so, they could follow her tracks. That was highly likely, as tracking was an art in which most primitive people had considerable proficiency. Being experienced in such matters, she realized that she would be travelling faster, even on foot, than they could read the signs which she was making. What was more, if the woodland proved to be suitable, she could take to the trees and avoid leaving traces of her passing on the ground.
On the fringe of the woodland, Dawn paused and studied the land which she had just traversed. Although circling vultures marked the spot, she could no longer see the area around the chasm. Nor, apart from the inevitable wild animals, was there any sign of life along her back trail.
Suddenly, Dawn heard something which drove all thoughts of pursuit from her mind.
Faintly, from a long way off, rose the challenge roar of a bull Mangani as he warned others of his kind to stay away from his territory.
For a moment Dawn felt excitement and relief. However, just as she was on the point of replying, a sobering thought struck her.
The call had originated from much too far away for her to identify its maker. There was a possibility that it had been Bunduki, trying to locate her. Yet there was also another alternative. The Mangani were extinct in every part of Africa which her family had searched for them, but some might have survived in the unknown jungle beyond the open woodland that she was on the point of entering.
So Dawn kept quiet, knowing that it would be unwise to announce her presence until she was sure of whom she was calling. Instead, she would continue to follow her instincts and keeping going in the direction in which they guided her. Not until she was certain that it was Bunduki giving the challenge would she respond.
Directing a final glance across the plains, without seeing any sign of pursuit, the girl resumed her journey to the south-east. At first, she retained the arrow on the bow’s string. Then, feeling hungry and having neither seen nor heard anything to alarm her, she replaced it on the bow-quiver. Laying down the bow, she removed the shoulder-quiver. She had put the remains of the pemmican and biltong in the pouch of the quiver. Opening it, she reached inside.
Before Dawn could extract the meal, a movement caught the corner of her eye and caused her to look in its direction.
Gripping a spear ready for use, a tall, muscular brown-skinned man clad in a jaguar skin loincloth stepped from behind a tree and confronted her.
Chapter Seven – What Kind Of Wood Is This?
Although they could not see each other due to the intervening terrain, at about the time that Dawn Drummond-Clayton reached the edge of the woodland, Dryaka, High Priest of the Mun-Gatah—which meant the Riders of the Zebras—nation, was leading his hunting party over the ridge upon which Tomlu and Ragbuf had made their appearances.
Having glided to the ground on almost motionless wings, several vultures were assembling around the two human bodies and the crippled zebra. Attracted in their uncannily efficient manner, a number of spotted hyenas had come loping up. Ignoring the corpses, they made for the injured animal as it tried desperately to rise and escape their attentions.
Although the winged scavengers were as yet too cautious to go any closer, not being sure that the two motionless figures really were dead, they would soon have summoned sufficient courage to commence their gruesome, but necessary, work. However, before they could do so, the appearance of Dryaka’s party sent them back into the air and caused the hyenas to make a hurried withdrawal.
The division between the two factions was more marked than it had been when Dawn had last seen them. Talking as they rode upstream, the High Priest complained that it was bad luck that the girl had seen the scouts approaching while they were still so far away. Immediately, Elidor stated that Dawn would not have known they were there but for Sabart having pointed to them thus, warning her of their presence. That had almost caused a physical confrontation between the buxom and pretty Sabart and her accuser. Although he was confident that Elidor could defeat Sabart, Dryaka had used his authority to prevent a fight. He was so determined to capture Dawn that he had not wanted to be delayed while the women settled their disagreement, particularly as the fight could have become general.
Having shared the High Priest’s summation regarding the result of a duel between her half-sister and his adherent, Charole had also been willing for it to be averted. She too was very eager to catch Dawn. Having lost face by the death of her eagle, the only way she could regain it was by extracting revenge on the girl.
There was, however, more to it than that. The Protectress was intrigued at the interest shown by Dryaka in going after the girl. While she suspected that he wanted to use Dawn as a means of disposing her, she also believed that there was some other, even more compelling motive. It was, she felt sure, to do with Tomlu’s death.
When Charole raised the matter, the High Priest claimed that he wanted to obtain a worthy sacrifice for the Quagga God. She did not believe him. That was the duty of the People-Taker, or—as very few of the Telongas he brought in were suitable for sacrificial purposes—the raiding parties who were sent to collect victims from the more warlike nations and, as such, the task was beneath the dignity of his high office.
Nor was Charole inclined to accept Dryaka’s other reason, that he wish-to avenge the deaths of the two scouts. The social distinctions of the Mun-Gatah were long established and rigidly enforced. Neither of the men had been even ocha-gatah riders, so he was hardly likely to put himself to any great inconvenience on their account.
If anything, the unacceptable excuses served to increase her suspicions. She felt even more certain that his interest went beyond obtaining a challenger who would justify his confidence. To her way of thinking, anything to which the High Priest attached so much importance was worth learning. She might be able to turn it to her advantage. So she had added her support to keeping the peace between the two women.
For all their mutual desire to hunt the girl down, neither the Protectress nor the High Priest would weaken their factions by leaving a member to keep watch and see which direction she was taking as she fled. Nor, in case she had told them the truth about having friends in the vicinity, had they been inclined to reduce their force as a whole by each supplying an observer. They had realized that the omission might lessen their chances of catching Dawn, but neither would yield on the matter.
Bringing his high-spirited, seventeen hand quagga stallion to a halt, Dryaka scanned the expanse of the plains around him. His cold, but very keen eyes located every detail except the one which he had hoped—yet had not really expected—to see. A low snort of disappointment and annoyance burst from him. It was as he had feared. The beautiful stranger had already disappeared.
When last seen, the girl had given the impression that she was making for the woodland. However, he had already discarded the idea of going there by the most direct route. It was possible that she had turned aside before arriving at the trees. In which case, going there could cause them to miss her trail.
The question was, would Dawn take the chance of entering the woodland?
The fact that the girl had been on foot suggested she belonged to a nation who made their home in such terrain, or even in the dense jungle that lay beyond it. If such was the case, she would have a decided advantage over his party while they were all moving among the trees and bushes of the woodland. While they were skilled hunters and excellent trackers, the Mun-Gatahs preferred to seek their prey from the backs of their zebras. That was always difficult in woodland and frequently impossible in the jungle.
However, having given much thought to the matter as he was riding along, the High Priest believed they might find the girl in the savannah rather than the woodland proper or the jungle. The area towards which she had been heading when last seen was inhabited by th
e brutish, sub-human ‘Hairy Men’. From what he had seen of their ferocity when occasional specimens had been brought in by raiding parties, he doubted whether the girl would dare to enter their domain. She was, in his opinion, more likely to remain in the type of country which the ‘Hairy Men’ usually avoided.
Not that Dryaka had mentioned his conclusions to the others. He would only do so when he could be reasonably sure they were correct. He had a reputation for being right more often than wrong and for rarely making mistakes. It was most useful in retaining the loyalty of his adherents. So, keeping quiet, he turned his attention to try and solve a point which had arisen during the course of his theorizing. It was one that, if he could produce the answer, might supply a clue to the direction Dawn would have to take if she was returning to her homeland.
To which nation did the beautiful, tawny-haired girl belong?
At his first sight of Dawn, Dryaka had thought that she might be an Amazon. Her hair and light-colored skin had suggested she could be a warrior of that race, but her clothing and armament had been against it. From what he had remembered about the Amazons, those who wore the skins of antelope—being swift-running messengers—were invariably slender. Women who were of Dawn’s build and heavier were clad in the skins of a black panther, leopard, lion or tiger. What was more, whether armed with a spear and shield, war-axe or bow, they always carried a sword to augment their knives. No Amazon archer he had ever seen had possessed a bow of the kind so ably wielded by the girl. In fact, he had never come across such a weapon in all his dealings with members of other nations.
Thinking about Dawn’s reply when she had been questioned about her origins got the High Priest nowhere. Unknowingly, she had said the word ‘Apes’ in English instead of translating it as ‘Hairy Men’. Naturally, Dryaka had never heard of a nation called the ‘Apes’. Whoever they were, and wherever they made their homes, he told himself, their ‘Supplier’ had given them very special kind of archery equipment.
Even before Tomlu’s death, the girl’s bow had been a source of interest and speculation to Dryaka. He had been a soldier, raider, temple-guard and People-Taker before attaining his present high office and he had recognized it as something out of the ordinary. If his suspicion about how the scout had been killed was correct, it was definitely an unusual, even remarkable weapon.
Although Dryaka had no intention of letting Charole know, the bow was now his main reason for desiring to make the girl his prisoner.
‘Finding her won’t be easy,’ Dryaka warned, at the end of his scrutiny.
‘We won’t do it by sitting here,’ Charole answered, impatient as always, moving restlessly on the saddle of her equally large and fine-looking mount.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Dryaka challenged, as the Protectress set her quagga into motion.
‘After her, of course.’
‘Where do you intend to start looking?’
Always wary when dealing with the High Priest, Charole read a warning in the tone of his voice. It implied that she was on the point of making a mistake. There must be some fault in her line of reasoning, but she failed to see what it might be. If she went ahead and they should not capture the foreign girl, which she realized was quite likely, Dryaka would claim it was her error of judgment that caused their failure. To have that happen would add to her loss of face over the eagle and might seriously weaken her position by causing the waverers among the population to turn in the High Priest’s favor. So, much as it went against the grain, she knew what must be done. However, she saw a way in which she might be able to make the High Priest responsible if things went wrong.
‘Where do you say we should start looking?’ the Protectress inquired, halting her mount and turning her head.
‘We’ll go to Tomlu’s body, then find and follow her tracks from there,’ Dryaka replied without hesitation. Having seen the trap that had been set for him, he went on, ‘Even then, we may not catch her. But we may as well try.’
Although Charole would have bitten off her tongue rather than have said so, she silently conceded that the High Priest had given sound advice. Going directly to the woodland, as she had intended, without knowing at least approximately where Dawn had entered would have been futile as it would have made finding her tracks difficult and time consuming if not completely impossible. She also noted bitterly that he had avoided the pitfall which she had intended for him.
Without waiting to discover what Charole thought of his suggestion, Dryaka started his quagga moving. The others followed him in silence. There had been little conversation since the quarrel between Elidor and Sabart had ended. Once they had crossed the river, the whole party were too engrossed in scanning the terrain over which they were riding to speak. While there had been no sign of the foreign girl’s cousin and his warriors, they could be in the vicinity. Having seen the girl’s arrow kill Tomlu, the Mun-Gatahs had had no desire to let themselves be ambushed by several equally well armed and capable archers. So they had considered that unceasing vigilance was of greater importance than talking.
Coming up to Ragbuf s crippled grar-gatah, neither the Protectress nor the High Priest deigned to give it or its lifeless rider a single glance. It was left to one of Cha- role’s male adherents to use his lance and put the animal out of its misery. Dryaka was dividing his attention between the transfixed eagle and Tomlu’s body, with most of it directed at the latter. Duplicating his actions, Charole was at first unable to decide what he expected to see.
‘By the Quagga God!’ one of the male riders ejaculated, his voice throbbing with something close to superstitious awe. ‘Her arrow went through his breastplate!’
Even as the comment was being made, Dryaka was placing over his saddle horn the loop that was attached to his lance at its point of balance. With its butt in the cup of the stirrup, the weapon was suspended and his hands were free. Swinging to the ground, he flipped the reins over the quagga’s head and allowed them to dangle. Then he went to kneel alongside the body. The quagga stood motionless, ground-hitched by the hanging reins as effectively as if he had tied them to an immovable object. Oblivious of everything else, Dryaka studied the shaft that rose from Tomlu’s chest.
Apart from the eagle’s attendant, who had turned aside and was riding towards his dead charge, only Charole had continued to advance after Dryaka—who had put on a short spurt—dismounted. The rest of the party came to a halt some feet away. They divided their attention between keeping watch for possible enemies and staring at the scout, or rather at the thing which had killed him. Realizing that she must be missing something of importance, Charole joined the High Priest on the ground. Schooling her features into an expression of bored disinterest, she stood and watched him.
‘Look at this!’ Dryaka could not prevent himself from saying, after he had studied and felt at the shaft of the arrow.
‘I’ve seen dead men before,’ the Protectress sniffed, with a well simulated air of indifference which she felt sure would elicit further information.
‘But you’ve never seen one who was killed like this!’ Dryaka protested, so stung by the woman’s attitude that he said more than he had intended. ‘Look at how deeply the arrow has penetrated.’
Once it had been brought to her attention, Charole understood the full implications of the High Priest’s statements and guessed that she had unearthed his main reason for wanting to capture the foreign girl.
Then another thought struck the Protectress, causing a slight shudder which she instantly suppressed. Everything pointed to Dawn being an expert archer, with sufficient skill to have hit her mark across the width of the chasm. She remembered the look of hatred on the girl’s face when starting to aim the bow at her and realized that she had been very close to death at that moment. Without the protection of a leather breastplate, or possibly even if she had had one, Dawn’s arrow would have been lethal at the distance which was separating them.
Having no desire to allow the High Priest to see how she was affec
ted by what she saw and thought, the Protectress continued with her pretence of indifference.
‘He must have fallen on the arrow and driven it in deeper,’ Charole commented and pointed to where the attendant was standing glaring at the dead bird. If her bow was so powerful, it would have sent the arrow straight through my eagle.’
‘She didn’t have time to draw it fully when she loosed it at the bird,’ Dryaka explained and turned the body on to its side. ‘Look here! The head has come through the back. No other arrow has ever pierced one of our breastplates, much less gone in this deep and—’ he let the corpse go and tapped the nock of the shaft ‘there’s no dirt here, so he can’t have fallen on it.’
With that, the High Priest gripped the arrow and tried to withdraw it. Charole was much too interested to comment. Even when he failed to extract the shaft, she remained silent. Opening his hand, he scratched at the cresting with a fingernail and his face took on a deeper, more puzzled frown.
‘Fetch me the bird, Elidor!’ Dryaka ordered, coming to his feet.
Urging her banar-gatah to a gallop, the brunette made her way to where the attendant was crouching over the bird and crooning the Mun-Gatah death chant. She guided the animal in such a way that it was heading straight at the man, causing him to make a hurried leap to the rear to avoid being ridden down. Leaning over without slackening her mount’s speed, she bent and scooped up the eagle as she passed. Ignoring the man, who had tripped and was sitting on the ground, she returned to the rest of the party. She brought the zebra to a rump-sliding halt at the High Priest’s side and leapt from the saddle almost before its forward motion had ceased. All in all, it had been an excellent piece of riding.
‘Here, my lord!’ Elidor said and held out the carcass. Cold anger flickered across Charole’s face. She knew that Elidor’s behavior while making the collection was a deliberate affront to her. However, she was too curious about the arrow to take the matter further. Instead, she advanced until she was between the woman and Dryaka. In doing so, she forced Elidor to take a pace to the rear and presented her back to the brunette. She was, nevertheless, confident that her faction would warn her if Elidor made any attempt to take advantage of the opportunity she was offering.