Bunduki (Bunduki Series Book One)

by J. T. Edson

  Watching the by-play between the women, the High Priest darted a prohibitive glare at Elidor. Although there was a red flush to her cheeks, she read his meaning correctly. So she kept quiet and stood still.

  Plucking the arrow free, Dryaka tossed the dead bird aside. Slowly he rolled the shaft between his fingers, staring intently at it. Then he ran the ball of his left thumb delicately over the tip and cutting edges of the four-bladed point. Having done so, he grasped the shaft at the cresting and just below the point, flexing it to an extent that would have snapped any other arrow he had ever seen.

  ‘What kind of wood is this?’ the High Priest said, half to himself, as he felt the arrow’s supple strength and watched it return to its former shape when he relaxed his grip. I’ve never seen the like of it.’

  ‘Let me see,’ Charole requested and it was indicative of Dryaka’s puzzlement that he complied without hesitation. On receiving the arrow, she started to get an inkling of exactly what he meant. However, she could not help yielding to her natural inclination to try and discount any statement made by her rival. It’s just ordinary painted wood.’

  ‘Just ordinary painted wood?’ Dryaka challenged.

  ‘Yes,’ the Protectress confirmed and, seeing that the rest of the party had moved to positions which allowed them to watch what was going on, she grasped the shaft at each end. Starting to bend it, she continued, I’ll show you.’

  Much to her amazement, Charole found that the arrow would bend but not break. She heard Elidor’s snigger and grimly set her teeth. Laying the shaft across her left thigh, she applied added pressure, but with no greater success. Wild with fury, she jerked out her sword. Taking no notice of the brunette, who backed away a couple of paces and reached towards her own weapon, the Protectress slashed at the arrow. The razor sharp blade bit in at an angle and cut it in two.

  ‘There!’ Charole spat out, hoping that she was sounding more triumphant than she felt as she held out the segment which remained in her hand.

  ‘But what kind of tree did this come from?’ Dryaka insisted, taking and staring at the hollow tube of fiber glass with an understandable lack of comprehension. ‘I’ve never seen wood like it.’

  ‘Or me,’ Charole conceded, having sheathed her sword and retrieved the other piece of the arrow. Examining the razorhead as the High Priest had done, she went on, ‘Nor have I seen an arrow’s head to equal this one for sharpness.’

  If Dryaka felt any satisfaction at hearing the Protectress’s admission, he gave no sign of it. In fact, he hardly seemed to be aware that she had spoken. His eyes went from the portion of the arrow in his hand, via the section she was holding, to Tomlu’s body. When he looked up, there was more than a suggestion of worry on his face. Charole experienced no pleasure at this evidence of his perturbation, although under different conditions she would have done. She knew what was disturbing him and she shared his concern.

  Dryaka was a ruthless and ambitious man. Born in a grar-gatah riding family, he had clawed his way upwards until attaining his present status. The social distinctions of the Mun-Gatah were controlled by physical prowess, but rising was far from easy. Apart from becoming a member of the Council of Elders when a vacancy occurred, he could go no higher. While subject to the Council’s control, he had plans for his own and their nation’s aggrandizement beyond anything the six Elders suspected. In fact, outside of his immediate supporters only Charole knew—although he did not suspect it—that he wanted to conquer and rule all the nations with whom his people came into contact. She had learned by seducing, then murdering—making it look like an accident—one of his most loyal supporters.

  In the opinion of the Council (when answering Dryaka’s tentative proposal), going to war against the various fighting nations—as opposed to raiding them and dealing with their retaliatory attacks—would be too costly to be contemplated. Not to the Mun-Gatah warriors, whose metal helmets and leather breastplates gave considerable protection if not complete immunity, but to their mounts. Many of the zebras were sure to be killed in the battles, as enemies frequently shot or cut them down to make their riders fight on foot. Such losses would displease the Quagga God and He would not give His people the blessing they required to be assured of victory.

  Less enamored by the religion of his people than the members of the Council of Elders, although he realized its value as a means of controlling and dominating the population, Dryaka considered that the loss of the animals would be a small enough price if he achieved his desires. He had been confident that, with the aid of their protective clothing and superior organization, the Mun-Gatah could defeat every other nation in turn.

  The meeting with Dawn had caused the High Priest to revise that conclusion.

  From his first view of the girl’s bow, Dryaka had sensed that its unusual design made it exceptionally powerful. That it had killed Tomlu was very convincing evidence of its full potential.

  Until coming close enough to examine the scout’s body, the High Priest had not appreciated just how unusual and powerful the tawny-haired beauty’s weapon must be. Certainly the ‘wood’ from which the arrow had been constructed was a very strange kind, but vastly superior to that used the nations with whom he was acquainted. Nor had any of them possessed arrowheads of such high quality.

  Apparently the mysterious ‘Suppliers’, whose identity and purpose Dryaka had never been able to discover, had seen fit to equip the ‘Apes’ with weapons that were far better than those given to any other nation. The though gave rise to another that was even more intriguing.

  What if Dawn should be one of the ‘Suppliers’?

  Such a supposition would explain why Dryaka had never heard of her nation by its true name. It was also likely that their own arms would be far superior to those supplied to other people.

  If Dryaka’s theory should prove correct and he captured the girl, the secrets to which she might be a party would be of the greatest value. He felt sure that, once he had her in his power, he could make her divulge all her information.

  Even if the High Priest was wrong in assuming that Dawn was one of the ‘Suppliers’, holding her would still serve a very useful purpose. Recollecting what she had said about her people being great archers, he could see that they might be a major barrier against his plans for dominance. Apart from the Amazons, the other nations tended to regard their bows as tools for hunting rather than as weapons of war. When fighting, they relied upon swords, war-axes, clubs or spears and shields. So the long lances wielded by the mounted Mun-Gatahs generally out-ranged the arms of their enemies. That would not apply to the ‘Apes’. If their warriors were so minded, their arrows would slaughter the Mun-Gatahs long before the lances could reach them. So having Dawn as a hostage would be of use in dealing with her ‘father’.

  ‘I wouldn’t care to fight against her people, whoever they are,’ Charole remarked, cutting in on Dryaka’s train of thought.

  ‘Or me,’ the High Priest conceded, darting a glance at the woman to see if there might be some deeper meaning to her comment. He had never been entirely satisfied that Lagdok, to whom he had told his plans, had been killed by accident after having attended a banquet at the home of an Elder. Charole had also been a guest and the man had always been susceptible to feminine wiles. However, reading nothing in the beautiful features, he went on, ‘Of course, there’s no reason why we should have to.’

  Before Charole could reply, a rider appeared on the ridge beyond the chasm. Reining his lathered banar-gatah to a halt at the edge, he yelled and waved a hand. Identifying the newcomer by his small size and scarlet tunic as one of the Council’s messengers, Dryaka scowled. Letting the section of the arrow fall, he stalked to his quagga and mounted it. Moving almost as quickly, but retaining the portion of arrow which she had been examining, Charole returned to her mount and boarded it. They rode towards the chasm together and the rest of the party followed.

  ‘What is it?’ the High Priest demanded, on reaching the chasm.

  ‘Zong
affa sent me to ask you if you would return to the camp immediately, my lord,’ the messenger answered.

  ‘Why?’ Charole asked.

  ‘That he did not tell me, my lady,’ the small man replied.

  Although the Protectress had failed to gather any information, she sensed that Dryaka was relieved by the message. So he was. When he had seen the messenger, he had wondered whether the Council of Elders had heard and taken exception to the orders he had given to the People-Taker. As yet he could not claim sufficient support to challenge the authority of the Elders and must yield to their desires.

  The news the High Priest had been given was interesting. It implied that there were developments in something which he believed could be important and very useful. Ever since Zongaffa, the aged herbalist, had made an accidental discovery, Dryaka had Relieved that it could be put to practical and effective use. Perhaps the herbalist had discovered a means of doing so. If that had happened, Dryaka wanted to hear about it as soon as possible. There was only one problem. By returning to the camp, he would lose any chance of capturing Dawn and learning her secrets.

  Chapter Eight – Are The Others Coming After You?

  Looking at the man who had come from his place of concealment, Dawn Drummond-Clayton took stock of the situation and reacted swiftly. Although she had been taken by surprise and was startled at his appearance, she was not unduly alarmed. He was holding a spear, but the shape of its blade and its thick handle suggested that it was better suited to thrusting than throwing. What was more, as he was a good thirty yards away and she had already started to arm herself, she did not consider him to be too much of a threat.

  Letting go of her shoulder-quiver, the girl scooped up the bow. Having done so, she liberated an arrow from the quiver that was attached to it. Setting the shaft on the handle-riser’s arrow rest, she nocked the slot at its end to the string without taking her eyes from the man. Straightening and adopting her shooting posture, she commenced her draw.

  Clearly the man knew what a bow and arrow was. He had started to move forward, but came to a halt as the four-bladed point was lined on his chest. While he did not have the clothing or appearance of one of the zebra riders, Dawn felt disinclined to take chances. So she retained her weapon at its position of readiness.

  Holding the fletching at its anchor point, the girl studied the man. Six foot in height, he had brown skin, black hair cut after the fashion of Prince Valiant and pleasant features which reminded her of the Polynesians she had met during her travels. Broad shouldered and heavily muscled, he did not slim down at the waist as well as Bunduki. For all that, he did not convey an impression of being slow and cumbersome. His only garment was a loincloth of jaguar skin. At the left side of its belt hung a sheathed knife. Thrust through a loop on the right was a strange weapon like a short handled pole-axe. The small, hammer-like head was backed by a long, narrow, slightly curved spike. Dawn decided that it resembled a czdkan xxxi Matching his height, the spear had a stout handle with a strong cross guard attached about two feet below a head that looked as though it had been made from the blade of a knife.

  ‘Who are you?’ the man inquired and once again the girl found that she could understand what was being said.

  ‘My name is Dawn,’ she replied, allowing the bow’s string to go forward under control but ready to draw it again if the need should arise. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am one who is called At-Vee, the Hunter,’ the man answered, without making any attempt to move closer. ‘If you are one of the People-Taker’s escort—’

  ‘I’m not,’ Dawn assured him. ‘In fact, I don’t know who the People-Taker is.’

  ‘Then you aren’t a Mun-Gatah?’ asked the man.

  ‘I am not!’ Dawn declared firmly, deducing from the sound of his voice that he did not care for the “Riders of the Zebras” and guessing who he meant. ‘But I’ve seen some of them.

  ‘Where are they?’ At-Vee demanded, glaring around in a hostile manner which gave added confirmation that he did not regard the Mun-Gatahs as friends.

  ‘Beyond the woodland, on the plains,’ Dawn replied and hoped to gain an ally. ‘I had to kill one of them when they tried to capture me.’

  ‘Are the others coming after you?’ the man asked.

  ‘They may be,’ the girl admitted. ‘But, if so, they aren’t too close behind. I’ve neither seen nor heard anything of them.’

  ‘Did they have any prisoners with them?’ At-Vee wanted to know, resting the butt of his spear on the ground.

  ‘I didn’t see any,’ Dawn confessed and, as an expression of disappointment came to his face, went on, ‘But I never went near their camp. It must have been on the other side of a river and was out of sight.’

  ‘Then they couldn’t be the People-Taker and his escort,’ At-Vee said quietly and half to himself. ‘Joar-Fane won’t be with them.’

  Even as the man was speaking, he started to walk slowly forward. A slight swaying of some bushes some thirty feet beyond him attracted Dawn’s attention. Turning her gaze in that direction, she discovered an animal was emerging stealthily from its place of concealment. With a sensation of alarm, she identified it as a full grown tiger and knew that it was stalking At-Vee.

  Crouching so low that its stomach was brushing against the ground, the great striped beast had its eyes fixed on At-Vee’s broad back and its tail was whisking from side to side. Dawn knew that it would very soon be launching its attack. Already its muscles were bunching and the unsheathed claws of the hind feet dug into the ground so as to give added propulsive power when it charged.

  Unlike many of her generation, probably because she had greater practical knowledge and experience, Dawn did not pretend to believe that predatory creatures never hunted and preyed upon human beings. She knew that, particularly in a primitive environment where they had not learned the deadly effects of firearms, the larger carnivores would kill and eat men, women or children just as willingly as they would animals.

  With that in mind, the girl did not hesitate. Taking a long bound to her right, so as to have an unrestricted aim at the tiger, she brought up her bow and commenced the draw.

  ‘Behind you!’ Dawn shouted as she started to move.

  With a deep, throaty roar, the tiger thrust itself into motion!

  Although at first puzzled and not a little alarmed by the girl’s behavior, At-Vee quickly realized that she was looking at something to his rear. Obviously, she was giving a genuine warning. The roar which came to his ears, as he was already starting to turn, confirmed it. What he saw and heard told him that he was in deadly peril. The tiger was bounding towards him and would soon be close enough to make its final, killing, spring.

  Dropping the butt of the spear to the ground as he completed his turn, At-Vee grasped the handle in both hands below the cross guard. At the same time, he slid his right foot forward and bent his left leg. He doubted whether he would have time to adopt his kneeling posture and brace himself correctly before the tiger was upon him.

  A skilled hunter, At-Vee had on several occasions goaded a leopard or a jaguar into attacking him as he crouched behind his spear, thus allowing the beast to impale itself. There were, however, two major differences between those efforts and his present situation. Firstly, he had always been ready and had brought about the charge at his own convenience. Secondly, and even more important, the tiger was much larger and heavier than even the largest jaguar that he had dealt with.

  Having adopted her shooting stance as soon as she came to a halt, Dawn completed her draw. Feeling the cold steel of the arrowhead touch her left forefinger, she aimed slightly ahead of the onrushing tiger so as to allow for its continued forward motion. Loosing the arrow, she saw it flashing away on a converging course as the great beast started to rise in the bound that would carry it onto its prey. After what seemed like an age, she heard the thud of the Razorhead meeting the animal’s body just behind its shoulder. The four blades carved their way to cut a swath through its vital organs, but t
hat alone would not be sufficient to halt its leap.

  Watching the tiger hurtling towards him, At-Vee expected to be killed. He had his left knee on the ground and the spear rose before him, but he was not as firmly positioned as he would have been if granted a few more seconds. His posture might have been suitable when receiving the charge of a leopard, or even a jaguar. It would not stand up against the weight of the tiger. There was, however, nothing he could do except brace himself as securely as possible and hope for a miracle.

  The miracle happened!

  Feeling the agony caused by the arrow driving through its flesh, even though there was not the solid impact and shock force of a bullet, the tiger gave a choking howl and its body curved in mid-flight. While it still went towards the man, its forelegs and great, hook-like claws were directed away from him. Instead of hitting the chest, the point of the spear spiked home alongside the arrow but entered at a less acute angle.

  When the tiger collided with the spear, its weight threw At-Vee off balance. He felt pain sear through his right leg as the ankle buckled under him. Fortunately it was not so severe that it numbed his thought processes. Releasing the spear as soon as the tiger was impaled, he threw himself to the right. On landing, he sent his right hand to the head of the war-hammer on his belt and slid it from its retaining loop.

  Reaching for another arrow, Dawn watched the great beast land on the spear and At-Vee fling himself from underneath it. The tip of the blade was just emerging from the striped flank when the cross guard prevented it from going any further. Crashing to the ground, the stricken tiger roared and thrashed wildly in an agonized frenzy. Then it went limp.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Dawn inquired, turning her eyes from the tiger and looking to where the man was trying to rise.