A powerful, brown hand pulled out a steel headed tomahawk from a leather strap wrapped around his waist. As he waved it in front of the black haired brute before him, he smiled viciously.
"This is what makes us better fighters than you Saber tooth men," he laughed. "You cling to a dying way."
Kak looked down at the flint blade of his own axe. It was a blade that he had personally fashioned, and a good one, though Kak was first to admit that he was not the best flint shaper among his clan. Idly, he wondered who made the steel hatchet that the Ferret man carried.
"Its been good enough for many generations," replied Kak calmly. They were standing in a small clearing in the forest that had long belonged to Kak's clan. It was a place cleared by Man's hand for such meetings, a place where social business was taken care of. It was a place of truce where different clans could come together under a banner of non-violence.
"Good enough for poor savages squatting in the forest. Not good enough to slay the knights of Aquilonia," grunted the Ferret man as he returned his hatchet to his belt. This man wore a shirt of chainmail and sported a steel cap on his head.
"I see no knights of Aquilonia here," answered Kak, "and never have this deep in the forest."
"I have seen the knights of Aquilonia. Their shiny steel armor, white plumed helmets, and huge pawing horses. I have seen their blood run freely on my blade," boasted the armored man. He was standing in front of several others of his clan. Each wore some kind of armor; that was a new tradition among the Picts who had ever ran nearly naked in the warm seasons. The Saber tooth men were clad in loincloths, feathers, and other ornamental garb. On their chests they had no more protection than the three ceremonial scars they had earned upon reaching manhood.
"What do you want, Machi?" asked Kak.
"I have been sent to speak to all the interior clans. Gorm needs more men as he sweeps the civilized armies before him. He wants your blades to strike for his cause," said the Ferret man with a cruel grin.
Folding his mighty arms across his chest, Kak straightened up to his full six feet, a tall man for a Pict, and glared at the Ferret man. "You know we have decided to remain out of Gorm's war. We are happy in the forest."
"No one denies Gorm, you fool. In his name I am not asking you. I'm telling you! Prepare your men for war," shouted Machi. He took a step closer to the Saber tooth man and returned his hand to his axe.
Kak's hair bristled. His lip curled back from his teeth as a wolf bares his fangs. Anger clouded his mind as he also stepped forward, nearly drawing his axe. Then they heard the beat of a drum in the forest. Kak frowned and tilted his head to listen. A look of wonderment and surprise vanquished the anger from his face.
"A Forest Woman!" he whispered.
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Boun lifted his head and listened to the drums. The once silent forest reverberated to the beat of a Pictish message he was unfamiliar with. He had a small knowledge of Pictish drum communication, having learned some of the basic beats from his half-Pict father when he was a small boy, but this was something new. It was an exciting, energetic rhythm, and soon Boun became aware that not only he was listening. It seemed that the whole forest was listening.
He had been among the Picts for months now, and had long since recovered from the terrific wounds he had suffered when he had battled the Panther Lord in the Circle of Beasts. He had known Pictish culture from the cradle and was not uncomfortable among the swarthy white barbarians. Quite the contrary, for now that he had found a clan that had accepted him and wasn't trying to skewer him, he had slipped easily into the lazy forest lifestyle. After all, Boun was first and foremost a man of the forest; where else could he be happier.
He turned onto a worn hunting path that led back to the cave of his friend, Kak. It was a short journey of about two miles and he set a leisurely dog-trot pace. He had already eaten a delicious breakfast of grubs, fruit and the root of the kulla bush. A mile down the path he stopped and slacked his thirst on a clear running stream that flowed easily from a hole in the ground. It was there that he sensed the girl.
Men say that all girls smell the same; maybe they do to men with stunted
senses, but to Boun this girl's scent was as individual and identifiable
as the difference in aroma between a rose and a spearmint leaf.
Wela, daughter of the Saber tooth clan, and sister of Kak, stepped out from behind a large gnarled tree to intercept Boun. She was barely sixteen, though mature by Pict standards, and she stood there nearly naked with little more than a tiny leather thong to hide her femininity. Boun's gaze lingered over her budding breasts, the smallness of her young waistline, and the swell of her hips that boasted of a rich child-bearing capacity. She had colored her lips red with the dye from some forest flower, and her hair had been combed into a luxurious black sheen. Boun's nostrils quivered as he detected the faint scent of her receptiveness as it steamed from her loins. And in response he felt a swelling answer beneath his loincloth.
'The forest is quiet today," said Boun. "Still, you are foolhardy to travel without weapons, Wela."
"I knew that I would soon meet you, Boun. With you I am safe," came her quick reply. She smiled a flash of white teeth.
There was no doubt that she meant to encounter him. Picts were a short lived race; their world was hard and violent, so their childhood was respectively short. At sixteen Wela was a woman in the eye of any Pict.
Boun, little more than a youth himself, swallowed hard. The cool morning air had grown suddenly hot.
"Is there something you want of me?" he asked with a wooden face. This was the sister of Kak, who was a new friend and not someone whom Boun wanted to offend. He knew that Pict women could be forward at times, though usually those times were in secret places like the place where he and Wela were then. In general women were regarded as the property of men; there could be severe penalties for infidelity. However, if a man chose to share his woman, there were other customs where that could be done without shame. An unattached woman was the property of her father, and he would expect to get the best price for her from a prospective husband as was possible considering the desirability of his daughter. Clans were associated through carefully constructed matings, and families were bound by the same, so there was a interrelation between Pict groups that otherwise might have had only sanguine relationships. Wela's father was dead, and her mother was too old to get a strong man. Kak was the head of his household and the master of his cave. Thus Wela was Kak's property. Boun had no desire to offend Kak.
And while Boun liked Wela, he did not desire her to be his mate. He was too young to restrict himself to an early, convenient choice.
"I wish to tell you of a legend. Do you hear those drums, Boun?" asked Wela.
Boun nodded affirmatively.
"A Forest Woman has been sighted. All the young men, and some of the old, will be rushing into the forest to find her. Do you know why?"
"I"m not sure what a Forest Woman is, Wela, or why men should seek her," replied Boun.
Wela laughed. "She is a spirit of the Woods. Some child of the gods and the trees that sometimes is seen by men as they travel through the forest. Seen but almost never touched. Hunted and never found, except by the best and luckiest of hunters."
"Why do men hunt her?"
"She is beautiful. More beautiful than a man's dreams. But there is more to it than that. It is said that any boy birthed from her loins will be first among men. All men wish for a son like that. It is said that Gorm is the son of a Forest Woman."
Boun lifted his gaze to the trees and listened to the drums. Yes, her explanation made sense when he compared it to the beat throbbing in his temples.
"Are you going to seek the Forest Woman?" asked the girl with a sultry smile.
Boun placed his hands on his hips and grinned. "I might."
Wela flowed forward and placed her hands on his. Her breasts touched his chest lightly as she raised up on her toes to look into his eyes.
"What a beast you are, Boun, tall, handsome and strong. Are you not the scion of Forest Spirits? A descendent of the Lord of Beasts? What child might I spawn from the seed in your mighty loins? I have heard the drums, and I have asked myself why is it that only men can join with a forest spirit. Can not a simple woman bear the child of the forest? And when my mind sought an answer I thought of you: Boun, the young Beast Lord. I wonder if your seed can serve the same purpose as the womb of the Forest Woman. This is why I have come to you," she whispered.
"I do not wish to anger your brother who is my friend," said Boun.
"It is because you are friends with Kak that I might come to you and open myself to you. You are strong and strangely gentle. I have seen this. I can trust you, and you can trust me. Let us share a secret time together," she whispered. In her large black eyes he saw the hunger of a woman, not the teasing of a girl.
The male in Boun began to take over; he looked down at her fiercely. "I take no mate now, Wela. I have many places to go and things to do. No woman shall hang on my arms when I go."
"I know that, Boun. Do you take me for a fool?" she retorted, but stayed pressed close. "I will never be your mate, but I want to mate with you. Already my brother seeks to throw me into the blankets of a Red Wolf man. He has chosen an gnarled warrior of great renown. He is Zard, the Red Wolf, killer of men and beasts. Zard has just returned from the pillaging of the civilized lands. He is a rich man now, with metal weapons and luxuries that can be found only among the soft muscled people of Aquilonia and other such nations. Zard is a great warrior, with many women in his blankets, but Zard is not Boun. I have heard in the whisper of the wind that I should benefit from the seed of Boun. Mount me and deliver that seed. Only we shall know."
The drums crashed in Boun's mind as she turned and walked into a place
she had prepared off the trail. Earlier, some deer had lain there;
the grass had been flattened by their warm bodies, and Wela stood there
in the center of the depression and removed her thong. Later she
smiled as the drums thundered for both of them.
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It was late afternoon when Boun returned to the cave of Kak. After his time with Wela, which had lasted far longer than he had imagined it would, Boun had slept a bit, and woke to the quiet afternoon sun which had passed beyond the trees where he was sleeping. Upon awakening he had noticed that the drums were still, and he was grateful that he was no longer subject to summoning of their constant throbbing beat. He had walked slowly to the cave of Kak's family. A part of him was disturbed at what he and Wela had done, though another part felt that nothing done had been shameful. Still, the whole of him decided that it was best if he were to move on. His body was strong and healthy again, healed of the wounds he had suffered in his combat with the great panther in the Circle of Beasts. Though he had enjoyed his time among Kak's Saber tooth clan, it was time for him to experience other wonders of his world.
"Wagh, Boun, what are you doing here?"
Boun smiled at the old man who was Kak's grandfather. His name was Bidg, and he was one of the oldest Picts Boun had ever seen. His name meant Tree Bark in the language of the Picts, and as old as he was his skin looked a little like tree bark: wrinkled and brown. He was a great storyteller and had entertained Boun many times while the youth had lain wounded and unable to move.
"Where should I be, Bidg?" asked Boun softly. His softness came out of a strangely tranquil mood. At the moment he was satisfied with the world.
"Out chasing the Forest Woman, like every other man and boy for miles around. Do you see Kak here? Yes, even my grandson is out seeking the Spirit of the Woods. Hah, all chase her but none will capture her.
"Even now, they are running along worn forest paths. Sweating, swearing, hoping to find her. Fools, she will show herself to only one; the one she has come to be with," said Bidg with a laugh.
"How do you know so much about this Forest Woman?"
"I know as much as any other man knows. She comes at times of her choice, for reasons of her own. What man can know those reasons? All a man can do is run after her and hope to catch her. But she is swifter than the deer and has the endurance of the wolf," said the old man.
"Is that all you know, old man?" asked Boun with a smirk.
"It is said that she appears to each man in the image of his true love. That's why so many chase her; to see the face of the woman meant for each man. That is all most men can hope for," laughed Bidg.
"Why does Kak chase her? He knows the face of his woman. It is Cieri," asked Boun.
"Ha, a man can have more than one wife. Maybe he seeks a new woman for his blanket," suggested Bidg.
Boun frowned, surprised at this opinion because he thought that Kak was happy with Cieri. Most of the time when he saw them together the big Pict has been gentle and considerate to her needs, which was contrary to the domineering way that Kak dealt with most people.
"Maybe its time I see this Forest Woman for myself," said Boun.
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A large pack of Picts stood in a small clearing, glaring at each other with hot savage eyes, and picking at the ground in futile hopes of picking up a trail that they all had lost. Tempers were short among these men as they probed the forest floor for some clue as to the direction the Forest Woman had gone. Occasionally one brute bumped into another and a fight broke out. It didn't go beyond a few blows, however, since the act of chasing the Forest Woman was a sacred act and fighting was not sanctioned under a social tradition of cooperation.
Boun walked boldly into this cauldron of smoldering tempers. He found Kak and went directly to his Pict friend's side. Kak gave him a look as surly as the others in the group, and said nothing to the youth.
"Who invited this outsider to hunt with us?" trumpeted a loud voice. An unusually broad man pushed his way through his fellow hunters, and pointed at Boun with a blunt finger. "That boy is no Pict."
Boun faced the rude warrior calmly. He kept his hands away from his weapons, but the light in his green eyes was feral.
"He has Pict blood, you stunted fool," replied Kak. "He is a guest in my cave. Keep your stupid mouth shut."
Kak towered over the warrior. The men of his clan, the Saber tooth Tiger Clan, were among the largest men in Pictdom. The other warrior, a member of the Ferret Clan, put his hand on the head of his steel hatchet. Kak smirked and touched his own, more traditional stone axe, thinking that it might be time to test flint against steel.
"Draw that ax, Deng, and I'll split your mangy skull," warned the Saber tooth man.
Deng's nostrils flared in anger and hate. Though recently powerful members of his clan, men like Machi, had come and preached that the clans must unite against the eastern world, his clan and that of the Saber tooth Tiger had always been enemies. There were strong feuds between them. Several warriors of his clan gathered behind Deng, waiting for the word to rush the Saber tooth man. The men in the group who were of Kak's clan edged close to their clansman.
"Idiots, fools, you are all shit hanging out of a moose's ass," screeched Tereng, an old man of the Stag Clan. "Do you forget the truce that must be endured during the Hunt of the Forest Woman. Stupid fools, would you bring the anger of the Forest Spirits down on us all."
Deng blinked, and stepped back. Superstition reclaimed him and his anger retreated behind his fear. "When the hunt is over, Kak, we will deal with this again."
Kak laughed. "Are you in such a hurry to die, little man? You will deny Machi filling his quota of killers by one." The Saber tooth man turned his back to his enemy and squinted at Boun. "What are you doing here?"
"What else? Trying to see the face of the Forest Woman," answered Boun with a smile.
"Hah, " laughed another man of the Saber tooth tribe whose name was Gar, "I want to do more than see her face. I want to mount that noble bitch."
"Fool, no one has mounted the Forest Woman in fifty seasons. Not that I have heard tell," interjected Deng with a curse.
"Never before has Gar been on her trail."
The other men laughed at Gar's confidence, but he ignored it with a proud smile. Gar was a young man, tall and straight, with the promise of becoming a mighty warrior. He was Kak's cousin.
Boun looked at the group more closely. All of the men had left their bows and arrows behind. They had stripped down to only a loincloth and leather foot gear. Most of them still carried an axe or knife, but that was their only weapons. Not a spear among them.
"Bah, we've lost the trail," announced a man. "She's gone to all of us."
"We must split up and try pick it up individually," suggested Gar.
"Yeah," mused Deng. He motioned to his clansmen to follow him and the Ferret men broke away from the main pack.
Suddenly, Kak turned to Boun and gripped his shoulders. "You are the scion of Jhebbal Sag. Can't you find the trail even though ordinary woodsmen like us cannot?"
"I'll try," he said. There was no reason to inspect the
ground visually. The Picts had already done that, and if there was
some clue to find there they would have found it. Instead he lifted
his nose to the air, sniffing like a hound, and circled the clearing in
an effort to pick up her scent. . His enhanced sense of smell
was a gift of his direct bloodline from the Lord of Beasts, Jhebbal Sag,
and it gave him an advantage over the natural tracking abilities of the
forest born Picts.
The problem was he didn't know what she smelled like.
Presently, he stopped, as he discovered a scent so wonderful that it paralyzed him with pleasure. A hint of flowery fragrance, the pungent order of fresh earth, the live giving scent of water, and most fragrant of all, the damp odor of woman.
"I have it," he declared with a smile. He led them out of the clearing, back into the jungle-forest. Kak laughed and said to his cousin, "Foolish Ferrets, and they would have kicked him out."
**************************************************************************
She ran before him, sunbrown nude, springing lightly over the ground, each step faster than the last. Her smooth, flexing buttocks summoned his gaze like a water draws a thirsty man. Her skin glistened in the sunlight, covered as it was by a thin veneer of perspiration, and so fast was she running that her tan blonde hair whipped like a flag in a summer storm.
Running hard behind her, Boun's breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. She had led them a long chase, turning in circles through the Saber tooth territory, until they were now near the caves of Kak's family. Most of the Picts had dropped from the chase, sprawled in exhaustion on the grassy forest floor. Only three men remained on her trail: Boun, Kak and Gar.
She reached the foot of the craggy hill that housed the caves where Kak lived. She went up the footsore path with the agility of a mountain goat, disdaining to look behind her until she was far ahead of the men. Then she graced them with the turn of her head and a showing of her face.
Each man saw a different face. To each it was the most beautiful, perfect face imaginable. The face of their true love. Boun paused in his climbing and lingered his gaze on the features of a woman he must someday meet. Gar looked too, and gasped at her black flowing hair, midnight clear eyes and savage sneering lips. Kak stumbled back a few steps when he saw the face of his own woman, Cieri.
Then she was off again. This time only two men pursued her. Kak remained behind and sat on a rock contemplating the foolishness that had made him take up the chase.
Though he was tiring, Boun scampered up the cliff with the agility of a monkey. Behind him, Gar was less nimble; the Pict had fallen several times and was enduring the pain of a sprained ankle. The Forest Woman reached the top of the hill and ran away. Boun was hot on her heels.
Yawning before them was a 18 foot chasm, and the Forest Woman leaped across it without hesitation. On the other side she turned and smiled coquetishly at her pursuers.
Boun paused, not because he feared leaping the gap, but because he thought he had heard a familiar voice crying for help. Keeping his eyes on the Forest Woman, he listened for that voice again and heard nothing. Gar stumbled into him, gasping with pain and fatigue.
"Damn! I can't make that leap now," he spit out. Bending over he braced himself with an arm against Boun's sturdy hip. "Go ahead, Boun, take the bitch!"
Grinning, the youth backed up a few paces and then ran at full speed toward the gap. With a powerful surge he was in the air and across.
***********************************************************************
After he and his three clansmen had left the main group, Deng of the Ferret Clan decided that chasing the Forest Woman was a false hope. Another goal sprang into his devious mind when he realized how close he was to the caves of the Saber tooth men. Never before had any of his clan been allowed to cross so deeply into Saber tooth territory, but the truce of the Forest Woman had prevented the Saber tooth men from driving he and his friends away. It was a lucky break that Deng planed to take full advantage of.
"Let us circle around and take one of Kak's women. I have had my eye on his sister for many years. She should be ready for a real man by now," said Deng.
Three pairs of savage black eyes narrowed at Deng's suggestion. One of them muttered, "if we do that we break the truce. Not only will it start a blood feud, but the forest spirits will slay us."
"No! The truce lasts only while chase the Forest Woman. We have given up, so we are free of the law of truce," rationalized Deng.
"I do not believe that is true," said one of the men, a warrior called Crank. "Chasers of the Forest Woman must return to their own territories upon giving up the chase. That is the custom."
"Crank is a coward! He fears the wrath of spirits he cannot see. Besides we are returning to our hunting grounds. When we return we will have a juicy Saber tooth bitch with us.
"And another thing. Haven't we already agreed to go with Machi to the east. Will the forest Spirits reach us there," asked Deng.
Two of the warriors, men as stupid as tree bark, sided with Deng's plan. Crank remained back, refusing to agree with a plan that seemed destined to bring him misfortune. He shook his shaggy, black maned head.
"No! I will not do this thing. Deng seeks the Saber tooth woman and is willing to risk the anger of the spirits. I am not. I return to my lodge where I shall prepare to go with Machi to sack the eastern civilized countries." This being said he left, but he did not turn his back to Deng, who he knew to be without a shred of honor even among his own people. He backed away slowly until the trees swallowed him up.
"Let him go. We are enough to take the girl. It pleases me to think how loudly Kak will howl when he thinks about his sister submitting to my pleasure. Yeah, this pleases me greatly," laughed Deng as he led the remaining two Picts toward the Saber tooth caves.
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Boun's foot landed safely on the grass on the other side of the chasm. He froze in a crouch and stared at the Forest Woman. He was shocked by her beauty. She stood with her hands proudly placed on her hips; one of those shapely hips was thrust up and to the side in a richly feminine way. Her tan-gold hair rolled down to her shoulders and covered her groin, and Boun lost himself in her dark green eyes. What a face! What a beauty! Though his manhood was rising in response to the smell and lure of her womanhood, that was a secondary thing to the youth. More important was the tingling he felt in his soul as he saw what was for him the most beautiful woman in the world.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
"The Forest Woman! Spirit of all that is free and strong. Made in the flesh of your desire and destiny, Boun. You have caught me for the first time in fifty years. You have won the prize," she replied in a voice that was perfume on the wind.
Every nerve in his body demanded that he rush forth, grab her, pull her to the ground and rut her as a bull ruts a cow. The impulse was so strong that his muscles nearly leaped from his skin. But the natural caution of the wild beast held him back. Sensing his hesitation, she spoke to him again.
"There is no danger. Only destiny."
Boun remained in a crouch. Something was tickling him at the edge of his perception. Something that should not be ignored.
"Wait a moment," he pleaded.
"Strike as a panther strikes, scion of Jhebbel Sag. Take your prize!"
"A moment," he muttered miserably. With a painful effort he peeled his gaze from her beautiful face and peeked behind him. Across the gap, he saw Gak hobbling frantically back the way he came. Boun strained to listen to something besides the Forest Woman's voice and began to hear the cry of a woman. No, a girl.
"Wela!" he gasped. She was calling for help with the shrill signal scream of her clan. That was what was drawing Gar away from the cliff.
Boun glanced back at the Forest Woman. She was still standing there, a look of concern on her face. Then it became a look of sorrow as Boun turned away, took a running start and leaped the chasm again. She watched him run past the hobbling Gar back down the path that had led him to her. After waiting a few moments, she faded away, her magic gone with the departure of her purpose.
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Deng held the girl down with one hand, pressing her over a fallen log so that she was helpless to rise. Her black eyes glittered through her ebony hair in a crazy combination of fear and anger. She remained still, however, as he threatened her with his steel hatchet. Deng laughed, and motioned for one of his clansmen to shoot the Saber tooth man again.
Down on one knee, Kak fastened his gleaming eyes on Deng with a murderous sneer on his brutal face. One arrow had pierced his left thigh, and another was protruding from his right pectoral muscle. The Saber tooth man gripped his stone axe with a sweaty hand and began to rise from his crouch, paying no mind to the pain of his wounds. One of the two other Ferret Picts had a bow, and as Kak was getting up, he calmly drew back an arrow and aimed it at Kak's heart.
Suddenly, the air was shattered by a roar-scream of pure, primal, primate fury; it was a scream that had not been heard in the world since the dawn of mankind. A scream that had once been torn from the lips of the last hairy, man-ape as he challenged the ferocious denizens of his primeval world in the shadows of a steaming young sun. It froze the Picts, halted them in their barefoot tracks. Their black eyes widened in fear and ancient terror as abandoned memories from the beginning of all men slashed a bloody, paralyzing path to the front of their savage brains.
Instantly, Boun was among them. His sun-browned body gleaming
from sweat catapulted into the small, clearing. He landed feet
first on the spine of the closest Pict, crushing him into the damp grass,
breaking his back with the impact. The youth kept moving, rolling
away from his first stunned, dying victim, as he tried to get close
to the bowman who had turned mindlessly toward this new threat. Boun
had only a knife as a weapon, and already the savage reflexes of the forest
born Pict were reasserting themselves and he was leveling his arrow at
Boun's chest.
Boun caught the arrow in his left forearm and hurled his unbalanced
knife at the Pict. It bounced off the man's left shoulder, causing
little more than a scratch. The Pict reached for another arrow.
Boun charged the bowman before he could reload. Five yards in a heartbeat
and his powerful hands closed on the bowman's neck.
"Boun, behind you!" warned Kak with a shout.
In his animalistic fury, Boun had nearly forgotten Deng. Out the corner of his eye, he saw the Ferret leader charging from behind, his gleaming metal axe held high for a overhead strike. Snarling, Boun heaved the bowman over his shoulder and brought his flailing body down on Deng. All three hit the ground hard. Deng was the first to get up. Again his hatchet lifted, an insane smile of victory on his face when he saw that Boun was momentarily trapped by the weight of the bowman, whose body had rolled on the youth. Deng laughed and whipped the hatchet down.
Stone crashed into iron. Flint tested the strength of steel.
Standing on bloodied legs, Kak's eyes gleamed into Dengs as he locked his
axe onto the Ferret Man's weapon. Had Kak not been severely wounded,
the battle would have ended quickly then. Weakened by loss of blood
and wound trauma, Kak was pushed back by the smaller man and fell light
headed to the ground.
But he had done enough; Boun was on his feet.
Deng paled when he measured the man-beast before him. No thoughts cluttered Boun's mind. No words shaped images of mercy in his raging brain. The scion of Jhebbel Sag was an instrument of action as he washed over Deng with the force of a stormy tide. Deng swung his hatchet, for even in his fear he was still a fighting man, but the youth swept it aside with one hand and seized Deng's face with the other. A blunt thumb pushed into the Pict's eye a second before curling fingers tore off Deng's ear. Then Boun closed in, smothering the Pict with a bear hug, and lifted Deng off his feet. In a mindless, natural motion that had neither art nor technique, Boun hurled Deng to the ground with one terrific surge of muscular power. Then he was on him, stomping the Pict in the throat, chest and head until he was dead.
Feral, green eyes swept the battle zone, and when he saw that all his enemies were dead, Boun lifted his face and laughed. It was a deep, roaring victory laugh. When it was over, Boun was released from the battle fury that had possessed him.
He went to Wela quickly and saw that she had not been harmed. Kak was another matter. He was sorely wounded, perhaps mortally, and needed medical help quickly. It was not until he tried to pick his friend up that Boun realized his left forearm was still transfixed by an arrow. Smiling cruelly at his own pain, Boun broke the arrow and pulled it from his arm. By that time several of Kak's clan had arrived.
Three men carried the unconscious Kak back to his cave. Gar stood by Boun, watching his brethren do this and muttered, "Filthy swine. The gods will curse the Ferret Clan for breaking the peace of the Forest Woman."
"What made them think they could steal Wela from under the noses of her clansmen?" wondered Boun.
"Wah! They nearly succeeded. Surprise and trickery were their weapons. Most of our men were poorly armed and lost in the woods looking for the sprite. Had it not been for you, Wela might be in a Ferret hut tonight," growled Gar. He leaned on a staff he had cut from a young sapling to relieve the pressure on his twisted ankle.
Boun did not reply. In his thoughts he hoped that Kak would recover.
"One good thing," laughed Gar, "this will give us a good excuse to split
some Ferret heads."
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Copyright 7-18-98 by Rod Hunsicker
all rights reserved, do not archive, do not steal