Bunduki (Bunduki Series Book One)

by J. T. Edson

  What was more, the Mun-Gatahs had proved to be harsh and cruel. Remarks which Joar-Fane had overheard had warned her that she might not be going to the pleasant life which she had anticipated. So, showing more courage and initiative than Bunduki would have imagined her to possess, she had escaped after they had made camp for the night. Unfortunately for her, she had got hopelessly lost. Then, with the party sent after her by the People-Taker on her trail, she had been driven even deeper into the jungle. She had fallen into the Big River and, although she could swim well enough to have been in no danger of drowning, the strength of the current had carried her across.

  Knowing that she was in the land of the ‘Hairy People’, about whom the hunters had told so many frightening stories, the girl had been forced to leave the river because of the persistence of her pursuers. Although she had not seen any sign of them that day, she had kept moving in the hope of returning to the river and swimming over, then finding her way home. Instead, she had been located by Bul-Mok and his family. Fleeing from them, Bunduki had saved her.

  While eager to please the blond giant by explaining about the People-Taker, Joar-Fane forgot to mention two points of interest. She had said that the Mun-Gatahs made visits twice a year, following the ends of the two rainy seasons. In her eagerness to start the business of love-making, she overlooked the fact that the latest collection had been made in the dry season and also that it had consisted of more maidens and young men than was usual.

  ‘What do you know about the Mun-Gatahs?’ Bunduki asked, as the girl lay on her back in an attitude which implied that she had talked enough and felt it was time for her reward.

  Annoyance flickered across Joar-Fane’s face and she sat up. Then she smiled in a knowing manner. At-Vee had been a much more satisfactory love maker than the blond giant was proving. However, he too had also been slow at getting down to the serious business of wooing. When he finally did, the results had always been worth waiting for. That would, she felt sure, apply just as much in Bunduki’s case. Being shrewd in such matters, she decided that she would have to humor him until he was ready to commence.

  Sitting at the side of the small girl, Bunduki had to admit that she was superbly proportioned and voluptuous. As a healthy young man in the peak of physical condition, he could not help being attracted by her. However, he was determined to hold himself in check. Joar-Fane’s race and color had nothing to do with the decision. None of his adoptive kinsmen had been promiscuous. In fact, they had all been notable for their unswerving loyalty and devotion to their respective wives. Nor had Bunduki ever become embroiled in the so-called New Morality which had infested the western world. Even during the short period he had spent in England, he had avoided becoming entangled in its meshes. Having always had to be self-reliant instead of dependent upon the British Welfare State, he did not need to use sexual prowess to conceal a lack of other masculine achievements. What was more, at that moment, he had other things of greater importance on his mind.

  Suddenly, Bunduki found his thoughts turning to Dawn; but not in the way that they had done constantly since waking in the tree. Up to that moment he had always regarded her almost as a younger sister; a delightful playmate and a tomboy who was willing to try anything that he was attempting. While aware that she had grown into a very beautiful, shapely and attractive young woman, his opinions along that line had previously been those a brother might have felt. Looking at Joar-Fane, he started to think of his adoptive cousin for the first time as a most desirable member of the opposite sex.

  The little Telonga girl would have been furious if she had guessed the kind of thoughts which she had brought about. Being unaware of them, she did her best to stimulate her rescuer’s interest and desire to make love.

  There was little enough that Joar-Fane could tell Bunduki about the Mun-Gatah people. According to what she had heard, the men were big, muscular and very fierce. Although the People-Taker and his escort had never arrived at her village clad in such garments, the hunters claimed they wore metal helmets and breastplates of leather that no weapon could pierce. They were armed with what she described as long knives and spears. Although the women she had seen were not exactly ugly—she refused to admit that they had been beautiful and curvaceous—they did not appear to be interested in making love. She regarded that as being most peculiar. More so, in fact, than that the party invariably arrived riding on strange hornless animals with black and white striped’ skins. At-Vee had said that all the Mun-Gatah people had such animals and many more roamed wild in the ‘Land With No Trees’, but they were never seen in the jungle except when brought by the People-Taker’s party.

  Bunduki found the girl’s information, scanty as it was, more baffling than helpful. In fact, nothing he had heard made sense. The strange, hornless black and white animals sounded like zebras, which implied he was somewhere near the plains of Africa as did the description, the ‘Land With No Trees’. Except that no wild zebra had a suitable physical confirmation of riding or draught work. Nor was there any sizeable area of the African plains that had not been explored, or at least flown over. A tribe, or a nation, who rode zebras would surely have been discovered.

  If it came to the point, there was little or no undiscovered land of any kind left in the world; certainly not one of sufficient size that could offer jungles, plains, big rivers and such a diversity of human and animal life. Counting the Mangani the blond giant had already heard of three nations.

  ‘Are there any other people?’ Bunduki asked when the girl once more stopped speaking and looked at him hopefully. ‘I mean apart from the Telonga, Mun-Gatah and the “Hairy Men”?’

  ‘The old men tell us about somebody they called the Gruziak who used to come to our villages.’ Joar-Fane sighed, wishing that the blond giant would stop asking such uninteresting questions and make love instead. ‘They were warriors with red skins and rode animals like the Mun-Gatahs’, except they weren’t striped and were of different colors. I’ve never seen them. The Mun-Gatahs drove them away. And I have heard it said that there is another nation of nothing but women. They don’t have any men at all. But I don’t believe there is anybody like that.’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Bunduki thought and smiled.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about your people?’ Joar-Fane inquired, having seen the smile and hoping it heralded what she had been waiting for. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘That’s what I’d like to know,’ the blond giant said to himself.

  The reference to the red-skinned Gruziaks, with their mounts that looked like the Mun-Gatahs’ zebras—if that was the identity of the creatures—but variously colored and not striped, suggested a nation of horsemen. Perhaps the girl was making them and the female warriors—who apart from their men-less state were suggestive of the Grecian Amazons xxxiii—up out of her imagination in order to impress him and bring him to a suitable frame of mind for her purposes.

  When Bunduki did not reply to her question, Joar-Fane felt that success and fulfillment were within her grasp. She was certain that the time had come for something far more interesting and diverting than chattering about other people. Smiling, she reached across and laid a hot little hand on Bunduki’s left bicep.

  Even as the blond giant was seeking a way to refuse which would not offend the girl, one was presented to him. From far away to the north-west came an eerie, high-pitched and almost wailing cry.

  Instantly, Bunduki sprang to his feet. Ignoring Joar-Fane’s squeak of mingled annoyance, protest and frustration, he stared in the direction from which the sound had originated. Faint though it had been, he knew it was the distress call of a female Mangani,

  However, the call was from such a long distance that the blond giant could not make a positive identification. Nor was it repeated, so he was unable to gain further information.

  Bunduki found himself faced with a difficult decision. While the distress call had come from the direction in which his instincts suggested that Dawn could be found, there were Mangani i
n the jungle. Any reply he made would be heard by the family who claimed the territory and would almost certainly be investigated if they were close enough.

  There was more to the problem than the danger from the territorial bull. The call had originated from so far away that, even if he did not have Joar-Fane with him, the blond giant knew he could not get there in time to deal with whatever was threatening his adoptive cousin, should she be the one who had made it.

  Chapter Ten – Don’t Kill Her, Damn You!

  ‘I don’t like it,’ Sabart stated, glancing around her in a worried manner. The foreign bitch is going into the land of the “Hairy People”.’

  ‘You can always turn back,’ Elidor spat out. While equally perturbed, her rival’s words had the effect of making her determined to keep going. A malicious smile flickered on her face as. she continued, ‘I don’t intend to. And, anyway, there shouldn’t be any danger. Charole told us the foreign bitch wouldn’t dare enter the jungle.’

  When Dryaka had ordered his faction to follow Dawn, the Protectress had said that her adherents would accompany them. As the High Priest had known that the eagle’s attendant was a very capable tracker and might be useful in following Dawn, and as he was not enamored with the idea of riding to the main camp in the company of Charole’s supporters, even with the Council of Elders’ messenger present, he had agreed.

  Discussing how the foreign girl might act, Charole had proved to share Dryaka’s theory that she would, in all probability, avoid penetrating too deeply into the woodland. Unfortunately, the Mun-Gatahs’ party found that she was doing so, and was showing no sign of turning towards the plains. Instead, she seemed to be determined to enter the jungle, even though it was the domain of the ‘Hairy People’.

  Already the terrain was becoming difficult for the Mun-Gatahs to traverse it in a compact group. If the trees and bushes should grow in closer proximity, they would be compelled to ride in single file. Doing so would render them even more vulnerable to ambush and attack, especially if the girl belonged to a warrior race which made its home in such country. None of them had any desire to fight against archers as skilled as she had been, particularly when they were armed with bows of the kind that had killed Tomlu. However, as neither faction would allow their rivals to see they were worried, each waited and hoped the other would suggest that they went back.

  ‘Look!’ snapped one of Dryaka’s male adherents, pointing ahead. ‘It’s her!’

  Following the direction indicated by the speaker, the rest of the party saw Dawn. They were relieved to notice that she was no longer carrying the bow and quiver of arrows, although there was no time for them to consider and discuss the omission. Becoming aware of their presence, she turned and started to run away.

  ‘Get after her!’ Sabart screamed.

  Despite the rest of the party’s eagerness to follow the order, there was some confusion for a few seconds. To allow the eagle’s attendant an unrestricted view of the girl’s tracks, the rest of the party had been compelled to let him take the lead and walk ahead of them. On seeing the killer of his bird, belatedly, as his eyes had been on her trail rather than watching his surroundings, he let out a shriek of rage that was reminiscent of the cry the eagle had given as it was plunging towards its intended victim. Turning, he leapt towards his well-trained zebra. Obediently, knowing what was expected of it, the grar-gatah swung at an angle which would allow him to reach the saddle. Vaulting astride, without touching the stirrups, he snatched the reins from the saddle horn. In mounting as he had, he was blocking his companions’ paths and preventing them from giving chase.

  ‘Get out of the way, you stupid grar-gatah!’ Elidor screeched, having sent her mount bounding forward in an attempt to get ahead of the other woman.

  Ignoring the angry yell, particularly because it had emanated from a member of the rival faction, the attendant set his zebra into motion. Behind him, the angry banar-gatah riders combined in heaping invective on his head as they followed. Hot for revenge, he took no more notice than he had of Elidor’s comment. Instead, he urged his grar-gatah to a reckless gallop.

  Although the two women and four men sat animals which were superior to the attendant’s mount, the nature of their surroundings was against them in their efforts to overtake him. Skilled riders as they all were, none was willing to exhibit the complete disregard for danger displayed by the small man as he guided his fast-moving grar-gatah through the trees.

  Elidor and Sabart began to draw ahead of the male banar-gatah riders. Not only were they lighter, but their armament also gave them an advantage. Each had a short throwing spear, which Dawn had not been able to see from her side of the chasm. It was carried in two loops that were attached to the bottom of the saddle’s left side skirt so as to leave the owner’s hands free. The men’s nine foot lances could not be carried in such a fashion. Ideal as they were for hunting or fighting on the plains, the lances were poorly adapted for use in even comparatively open woodland.

  Running swiftly through the trees, Dawn could hear the hooves of her pursuers’ mounts and sensed that one was approaching much faster than the rest. She fought down the temptation to look behind, knowing that she must devote all her attention to watching where she was going. At that moment, she was in two minds over the wisdom of having left her bow and arrows with the injured Telonga hunter. Without them, she could move at a faster pace and more easily. However, she did not have them to use if she needed to defend herself.

  About fifty yards ahead, there was an extensive area of fairly dense bushes. Dawn made for it, growing more and more aware that one of her pursuers was rapidly closing with her. For all that, she resisted the temptation to increase her pace. If she did so prematurely, she would run herself into such a state of exhaustion that she would collapse. Instead, she scanned the wall of foliage. It would offer her concealment and could not be ridden through.

  First, however, Dawn had to find a way to enter the bushes!

  Having done so, she had to reach it before the first of the riders caught up with her!

  Not far to her right, Dawn detected the entrance to a game trail. It was fairly wide, probably having been made by rhinoceros, elephants, or buffalo for she had seen evidence that all three species occupied the woodland. If she was to make use of the track, her pursuers would be able to ride along it.

  Searching for an alternative, the girl saw that there was a smaller path on her left. Unfortunately, it was at a greater distance than the one at her right.

  Would Dawn have sufficient time to reach the more suitable entrance?

  The hooves were getting very close now!

  ‘Don’t kill her, damn you!’ screamed an irate feminine voice from beyond the girl’s nearest pursuer.

  Hearing the words, Dawn chanced a quick glance over her shoulder. She had expected the leading rider to be fairly near, but not in such close proximity. It was, as she had guessed, the eagle’s attendant. Rage and hatred distorted his face as he bore down on her as swiftly as his hard-driven zebra could travel. His right hand was grasping a sword ready for use.

  Dawn doubted, from his expression, whether the man would heed the woman’s shouted instructions. So she started to think how she might avoid being cut down.

  Having seen the attendant draw his sword and being aware of how bitterly he had resented the death of his eagle, Elidor had screamed out her warning. When it did not appear to have any effect, she turned her head to glare at the smaller but equally voluptuous woman who was riding stirrup to stirrup with her.

  ‘If that damned grar-gatah kills her, I’ll see him sent to the Quagga God!’ the brunette warned her rival. ‘Dryaka wants her alive!’

  ‘So does Charole,’ Sabart answered and looked back at the male banar-gatah riders. ‘Chanak! Make him stop!’

  With the man who had been addressed bawling a warning, the two women swerved to pass on either side of a tree’s trunk. They did not attempt to resume the conversation when they came in sight of each other again. In
stead, they watched as the attendant drew closer to the fleeing girl. From what they could see, he had no intention of taking advice or orders and had forgotten that both the High Priest and the Protectress wanted her captured alive and uninjured if possible.

  Measuring the rapidly diminishing distance between himself and the girl, the attendant rose on his stirrups so that he could get added force behind a blow. In his fury at seeing her, he had completely forgotten that his party were supposed to take her prisoner and was preparing to cut her down with his sword.

  Waiting until the head of his zebra was almost level with her left shoulder, thus approaching the ideal position from which to deliver a slash at her, for she believed he might choose to ignore the commands that had been yelled at him—Dawn suddenly changed direction. Implementing the scheme which she had thought out, she swerved in front of the animal. In passing, she whipped her left hand around to slap the near side of the zebra’s muzzle and let out the most hideous shriek she could manage after having run so far and fast.

  The unexpected blow and the yell startled the little grar-gatah and caused it to shy. Tossing its head wildly, it threw up its front legs and went into a rearing turn. Tensed ready to deliver a blow that would have cleft open his victim’s skull, the attendant watched her disappear ahead of his mount. A moment later he was almost toppled backwards by its erratic behavior. Only by dropping his sword and grabbing the horn in both hands, while his legs clamped tightly against the saddle’s skirts, did he prevent himself from falling onto the rack that had been used as a perch for the eagle. Recovering his equilibrium with an effort that demanded every bit of his riding skill, he found that he was being carried away from the girl. Muttering invective, he reined the grar-gatah around in a hurried and brutal fashion. By the time he was once more facing her, she was far beyond his reach.