"2567-03" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jerome Bigge - Warlady 5 - The Warlady Of Dularn)"THE WARLADY OF DULARN" 2567 A.D.! By Jerome Bigge Chapter Three I found their trail at the edge of the semi-clearing beyond the skeleton of the Garth, its remains "hinting" at more than I wished to think about just then. The scuff marks in the coarse grass leaving no doubt that Carol was trying to leave a trail for me to follow. Such now "heartened" me considerably, I assure you, more perhaps than you can understand. I also found the hoof prints of what I believed were horses, although I knew that they more likely were the hoof prints of unicorns, a mutated form of the horse common in this era some five centuries after The War.* * Lorraine believes that unicorns are the result of genetic ma- nipulation in the 21st Century before The War of 2047. I consid- er this likely considering the nature of the animal in question. Others may differ, but I do believe the Warlady on this. (R.S.) Once, some twenty one years ago I served in the Marines, and such military training was now once again "useful" as I tracked those who had stolen my Carol. No longer was I a "civilized" man of the 20th Century who relied upon the police for "protection". A "wimp" who paid "others" to "protect" him and his "loved ones". I think the "price" we paid for such things back then was perhaps too high. Others will disagree, but I much prefer life here in the 26th Century with its "dangers" to those of my own era. Here at least you can still yet legally carry the "means of defense". "Protect" what is "yours" without fear of a "lawsuit" afterwards. In the 20th Century it was a "crime" to kill a "criminal". Here of course you get a "reward" for doing so. Sometimes I think the Lorr did us a "favor" by destroying the civilization of the past. Lorraine once spoke to me of "overcivilization", of a social or- der that forbade one to carry the "means of defense". She once said she would not "weep" if America was "cleansed" of its "lib- eralism" by thermonuclear fire. That it was "diseased", "sick". She is of course a "Warlady". Others may disagree as they will. They had taken my Carol. I would get her back or die in the attempt now to regain her! The sword in my hand, a short, thick bladed weapon, much different in its design from the light thrusting weapon that my wife favored, recalled to me the memo- ries of times far back in the past. Of Legions marching off to war under the Imperial Eagles of Rome. I looked forward to "meeting up" with those who had stolen my Carol. There was lit- tle left of the 20th Century now as I followed them. What fol- lowed them now was no longer of 1991, but a "MAN" of a sort that perhaps had not walked the Earth for a thousand years or more. A MAN who lived by a "LAW" not made by "governments", but by TRUTH! By the biological "realities" that Men once understood long ago! They had taken "my woman", my Carol. I fully intended to get her back or die in the attempt! They would pay with their lives for what they had doubtlessly by now done to my beloved brownette!!! The trail followed a game trail among the trees, their great leafy limbs now far overhead making the forest cool and shady. I have lived in such an environment for some eighteen years. Hunt- ed small game and a couple times even the deer, although Carol's own "reaction" to my killing a deer was perhaps understandable. My wife having almost made "pets" out of a number of them there out in the clearing behind our home. I am at "home" in such a forest. More so perhaps than even most fighting men of this era. I am, I believe, not quite as "civilized" as most men of the 20th Century were. I believed in things that most "liberals" consid- ered to be "Neanderthal". I was a life member of the National Rifle Association. I owned guns. Hunted. I believed in a soci- ety where you had to EARN your place in it. In a "social order" where the "law" did not "protect" those who sought to take away the "freedoms" of others. I have knelt before a beautiful golden haired Queen. And pledged my sword to her service as I did so. Stood on the decks of a ship of war under fire. Led men and wom- en in battle. I am no longer a man of the 20th Century. The "civilization" from which I came is now only a myth and legend. Perhaps it is just as well. It was "sick", a social order that did not deserve to survive. A society of "wimps", not free men! I watched the movements of the birds, the behavior of the little scurrying animals. Such can tell one "wise" in the ways of the woods much. I used to practice tracking Carol through the forest back home in the Twentieth Century. She never managed to "hide" from me for long despite her best efforts to do so. Such skills are, I believe, something that it is wise for the Warrior to know. I am, by the command of a golden haired Queen, now of that honorable caste. The brand of the sword is burned into my wrist as it is burned into Carol's. Such is, I think, "fitting". It is said that the caste "selects" you, you do not "select" it. Briefly, for a moment, I saw something moving between the trees, a creature that had once gone "extinct" at the end of the last Ice Age, but reborn once again. A great wolf the size of a pony. I found the hilt of the sword in my hand a "comfort" just then as I stood frozen, motionless. I had confidence in the blade. It was a good, serviceable weapon. Made to slash as well as thrust. The blade of polished steel, well honed on both edges to a razor's edge. Such a blade will take a man's head off with one swipe. Cut through an arm, slash off a hand. In the hands of one who knows its use, such a weapon is as "deadly" as any ever developed by a violent race of Men. Men who "understood", as those of the 20th Century did not, that one does not "appease" an "enemy" either foreign or domestic. One does not give up what is "yours". That, I think, we of the past never did understand! Such is, I think, the "fallacy" of believing that all "issues" can be settled with the "ballot box". There are "those" which in my opinion can be "resolved" only on the field of battle! There are "times", even in a "democratic society", when one must take up "arms". Defend with "violence" if necessary what is "yours" even if the "vote" went against you. Those who do not do so can no longer call themselves truly "MEN". Such is now "understood" by men who carry swords there at their hips. By the women who stand at their sides, WOMEN not like those of the 20th Century, but the "warrior women" of this barbaric era. Women who are in their own way now more truly "equal" than were those of the past! That is, I think, why there are "Warladies". Why men will die in battle at their command. The Imperials have their "Lorraine", and we of Dularn now have our "Carol", my own beloved "Warlady"! The forest was in itself a thing of beauty. The trees tow- ered far up into the sky, while the gentle breezes softly rustled the restless leaves, the sunbeams like dancing spots of light there on the coarse grass that carpeted it. There is, so far as I can tell, little difference between the forests of my time and this. Nature heals "wounds" far better than "Man" has ever done. I crossed the remains of a highway, a bit of rusted metal sticking out of a bit of broken concrete the last remains of another era. I thought of the centuries that had passed one by one in their slow passage year after year. The sun was getting lower in the sky now. It was, I thought, late in the afternoon. Perhaps close to four am back in our own time, I suspected now, although I yet felt little fatigue after all that had happened. The trail crossed a little stream, and here those I had been following had halted for a moment. The imprints of Carol's knees still in the soft mud of the bank where she had been allowed to drink. The lack of hand prints leaving no doubts in my mind that she had been bound, doubtlessly with her wrists behind herself. The mark of shod feet beside her knee prints told its own tale. Doubtlessly she had been held by the hair, that lovely soft wal- nut colored hair of hers, and held with her face to the water. I feared now that I might not be able to catch up with them before dark, and I suspected from what I had already seen that these forests might be indeed a dangerous place to be after night came! Now quenching my own thirst, I proceeded on my way, fighting down the "thoughts" of what they might do to my Carol once they reached their eventual destination. I recalled from Lorraine's writings much of what she had herself written on such topics. If Carol did not "fight" too much she probably would not be "hurt". Her provocative sensual "femaleness" might hint at her "value" in the slave market. She was worth much "alive", and nothing dead. On the other hand "submission" was not a part of her "nature". I was at least "thankful" that they were not "civilized" men, for such men are often far more "cruel" than more simple barbarians.* * After considerable thought and a number of discussions with my wife and Queen Maris, I believe this was "due" to the great deep rooted "hatreds" that the "civilized man" of the 20th Century had towards the women of his era. There is much less hatred directed towards women now in this era than there was back in my own time. The reasons for this are, I believe, due to the "fact" that in a "democratic society", one cannot "protect" one's "rights" as well as they can in a society that is less "democratic" and certain items are never ever "subject" to a "vote". As Queen Maris said when I discussed this with her (She is not a "dumb blonde" by any means!), "The men of Dularn have `drawn a line' that `no woman', not even their Queen, may "cross" except at the price of her own life!" Such appears to be true on the issue of "slavery" at least. There is true "sexual equality" in Dularn, but it is not the "same" as the sort of a perverted "sexual equality" that the feminists of the 20th Century apparently wanted for women. I should also note here that there is no "alimony" as such. (R.S.) The trail at points grew difficult to follow, but at each of these points there would be scuff marks to guide me, it being ob- vious to me that Carol still hoped that I lived, or otherwise she wouldn't have bothered trying to leave the "trail" that she was! Something moved through the trees to my right, something tan and slinky, something big! I paused behind a tree, my sword at the "ready" although I knew how useless a weapon it would be against such as that. I recalled Lorraine's "adventures" with the "Tigon" as such were called. She had water at least to help her. I did have my crude spear, but I doubted its "value" here! It was with a deep heartfelt sigh of relief that I saw the creature now slink off, the body striped like that of the tiger. Such creatures do not normally include "man" as their prey, but one can never be "sure" about such things either! In any case I was damn glad to see the last of it as I once again took the dim trail that I hoped would lead me to these outlaws' "encampment". To my stolen lost "love". To that provocative brownette of mine! Carol is more to me than life itself. She is what makes my life worth living. It is more than just "love" as such. More than just the fact she is "good in bed". Carol is the sort of a woman who makes you delight in the fact that you were born a man! That we are members of a race that includes two sexes, not one... The sun was close to the horizon when I faintly smelled the odor of wood smoke. The smell of a campfire. Had I found the camp of those who had stolen my beloved Carol? Was it here that I would find her again? They had my Carol! She was mine! About her lovely throat had been the golden chain that marked her mine! The golden chain I'd put about her lovely throat years ago as a "mark" of what she meant to me, my wonderful Carol Lynn Simmons! Cautiously I crept closer, every sense alert now. I moved "only" when I had assured myself that no one had seen me. I was but one man against an unknown number of the "enemy". They might well have bows, perhaps crossbows. Such can be as deadly as the rifles of my own era. That as developed and perfected by the in- dustrious caste of Builders of Dularn will hurl a sharp pointed steel shafted bolt a distance of three hundred and thirty yards. One who has fully "mastered" such a weapon may do so as often as four times in the space of a minute, I note here for the reader. The outlaws' encampment was in a small clearing that to my surprise overlooked the ocean! The Pacific! I had for the mo- ment forgotten the fact that the great earthquakes that followed The War of 2047 A.D. only added to the destruction caused by the Lorr's bombing of the Earth from their orbiting battle discs! At the moment, however, I fear my only thought was for Carol as I saw her lying there with her wrists tied to a tree at the edge of the clearing! And with her ankles tied to stakes driven into the ground so that she laid helpless before them, spread for her rape if such had not already been done to her as I feared it had been! There were five men, rough looking brutes, some in vests and leather kilts like the dead man whose weapons I now carried, while others wore forest green tunics and hose, making me think of "Robin Hood and his Merrie Men" of legend. A half dozen horned unicorns were tied to a hitching rope strung there between two trees a short distance from my wife. I studied the terrain, searching for a way to reach my Carol that they would not see. I did not see any such a way just then. To face the five of them in a sword fight was out of the question. I know that the leg- endary Lorraine once fought a dozen men, or so it is said, but she also had an element of "surprise" that I wouldn't enjoy here! As well as the fact that she had "help" too that I didn't have... "THE WARLADY OF DULARN" 2567 A.D.! By Jerome Bigge Chapter Three I found their trail at the edge of the semi-clearing beyond the skeleton of the Garth, its remains "hinting" at more than I wished to think about just then. The scuff marks in the coarse grass leaving no doubt that Carol was trying to leave a trail for me to follow. Such now "heartened" me considerably, I assure you, more perhaps than you can understand. I also found the hoof prints of what I believed were horses, although I knew that they more likely were the hoof prints of unicorns, a mutated form of the horse common in this era some five centuries after The War.* * Lorraine believes that unicorns are the result of genetic ma- nipulation in the 21st Century before The War of 2047. I consid- er this likely considering the nature of the animal in question. Others may differ, but I do believe the Warlady on this. (R.S.) Once, some twenty one years ago I served in the Marines, and such military training was now once again "useful" as I tracked those who had stolen my Carol. No longer was I a "civilized" man of the 20th Century who relied upon the police for "protection". A "wimp" who paid "others" to "protect" him and his "loved ones". I think the "price" we paid for such things back then was perhaps too high. Others will disagree, but I much prefer life here in the 26th Century with its "dangers" to those of my own era. Here at least you can still yet legally carry the "means of defense". "Protect" what is "yours" without fear of a "lawsuit" afterwards. In the 20th Century it was a "crime" to kill a "criminal". Here of course you get a "reward" for doing so. Sometimes I think the Lorr did us a "favor" by destroying the civilization of the past. Lorraine once spoke to me of "overcivilization", of a social or- der that forbade one to carry the "means of defense". She once said she would not "weep" if America was "cleansed" of its "lib- eralism" by thermonuclear fire. That it was "diseased", "sick". She is of course a "Warlady". Others may disagree as they will. They had taken my Carol. I would get her back or die in the attempt now to regain her! The sword in my hand, a short, thick bladed weapon, much different in its design from the light thrusting weapon that my wife favored, recalled to me the memo- ries of times far back in the past. Of Legions marching off to war under the Imperial Eagles of Rome. I looked forward to "meeting up" with those who had stolen my Carol. There was lit- tle left of the 20th Century now as I followed them. What fol- lowed them now was no longer of 1991, but a "MAN" of a sort that perhaps had not walked the Earth for a thousand years or more. A MAN who lived by a "LAW" not made by "governments", but by TRUTH! By the biological "realities" that Men once understood long ago! They had taken "my woman", my Carol. I fully intended to get her back or die in the attempt! They would pay with their lives for what they had doubtlessly by now done to my beloved brownette!!! The trail followed a game trail among the trees, their great leafy limbs now far overhead making the forest cool and shady. I have lived in such an environment for some eighteen years. Hunt- ed small game and a couple times even the deer, although Carol's own "reaction" to my killing a deer was perhaps understandable. My wife having almost made "pets" out of a number of them there out in the clearing behind our home. I am at "home" in such a forest. More so perhaps than even most fighting men of this era. I am, I believe, not quite as "civilized" as most men of the 20th Century were. I believed in things that most "liberals" consid- ered to be "Neanderthal". I was a life member of the National Rifle Association. I owned guns. Hunted. I believed in a soci- ety where you had to EARN your place in it. In a "social order" where the "law" did not "protect" those who sought to take away the "freedoms" of others. I have knelt before a beautiful golden haired Queen. And pledged my sword to her service as I did so. Stood on the decks of a ship of war under fire. Led men and wom- en in battle. I am no longer a man of the 20th Century. The "civilization" from which I came is now only a myth and legend. Perhaps it is just as well. It was "sick", a social order that did not deserve to survive. A society of "wimps", not free men! I watched the movements of the birds, the behavior of the little scurrying animals. Such can tell one "wise" in the ways of the woods much. I used to practice tracking Carol through the forest back home in the Twentieth Century. She never managed to "hide" from me for long despite her best efforts to do so. Such skills are, I believe, something that it is wise for the Warrior to know. I am, by the command of a golden haired Queen, now of that honorable caste. The brand of the sword is burned into my wrist as it is burned into Carol's. Such is, I think, "fitting". It is said that the caste "selects" you, you do not "select" it. Briefly, for a moment, I saw something moving between the trees, a creature that had once gone "extinct" at the end of the last Ice Age, but reborn once again. A great wolf the size of a pony. I found the hilt of the sword in my hand a "comfort" just then as I stood frozen, motionless. I had confidence in the blade. It was a good, serviceable weapon. Made to slash as well as thrust. The blade of polished steel, well honed on both edges to a razor's edge. Such a blade will take a man's head off with one swipe. Cut through an arm, slash off a hand. In the hands of one who knows its use, such a weapon is as "deadly" as any ever developed by a violent race of Men. Men who "understood", as those of the 20th Century did not, that one does not "appease" an "enemy" either foreign or domestic. One does not give up what is "yours". That, I think, we of the past never did understand! Such is, I think, the "fallacy" of believing that all "issues" can be settled with the "ballot box". There are "those" which in my opinion can be "resolved" only on the field of battle! There are "times", even in a "democratic society", when one must take up "arms". Defend with "violence" if necessary what is "yours" even if the "vote" went against you. Those who do not do so can no longer call themselves truly "MEN". Such is now "understood" by men who carry swords there at their hips. By the women who stand at their sides, WOMEN not like those of the 20th Century, but the "warrior women" of this barbaric era. Women who are in their own way now more truly "equal" than were those of the past! That is, I think, why there are "Warladies". Why men will die in battle at their command. The Imperials have their "Lorraine", and we of Dularn now have our "Carol", my own beloved "Warlady"! The forest was in itself a thing of beauty. The trees tow- ered far up into the sky, while the gentle breezes softly rustled the restless leaves, the sunbeams like dancing spots of light there on the coarse grass that carpeted it. There is, so far as I can tell, little difference between the forests of my time and this. Nature heals "wounds" far better than "Man" has ever done. I crossed the remains of a highway, a bit of rusted metal sticking out of a bit of broken concrete the last remains of another era. I thought of the centuries that had passed one by one in their slow passage year after year. The sun was getting lower in the sky now. It was, I thought, late in the afternoon. Perhaps close to four am back in our own time, I suspected now, although I yet felt little fatigue after all that had happened. The trail crossed a little stream, and here those I had been following had halted for a moment. The imprints of Carol's knees still in the soft mud of the bank where she had been allowed to drink. The lack of hand prints leaving no doubts in my mind that she had been bound, doubtlessly with her wrists behind herself. The mark of shod feet beside her knee prints told its own tale. Doubtlessly she had been held by the hair, that lovely soft wal- nut colored hair of hers, and held with her face to the water. I feared now that I might not be able to catch up with them before dark, and I suspected from what I had already seen that these forests might be indeed a dangerous place to be after night came! Now quenching my own thirst, I proceeded on my way, fighting down the "thoughts" of what they might do to my Carol once they reached their eventual destination. I recalled from Lorraine's writings much of what she had herself written on such topics. If Carol did not "fight" too much she probably would not be "hurt". Her provocative sensual "femaleness" might hint at her "value" in the slave market. She was worth much "alive", and nothing dead. On the other hand "submission" was not a part of her "nature". I was at least "thankful" that they were not "civilized" men, for such men are often far more "cruel" than more simple barbarians.* * After considerable thought and a number of discussions with my wife and Queen Maris, I believe this was "due" to the great deep rooted "hatreds" that the "civilized man" of the 20th Century had towards the women of his era. There is much less hatred directed towards women now in this era than there was back in my own time. The reasons for this are, I believe, due to the "fact" that in a "democratic society", one cannot "protect" one's "rights" as well as they can in a society that is less "democratic" and certain items are never ever "subject" to a "vote". As Queen Maris said when I discussed this with her (She is not a "dumb blonde" by any means!), "The men of Dularn have `drawn a line' that `no woman', not even their Queen, may "cross" except at the price of her own life!" Such appears to be true on the issue of "slavery" at least. There is true "sexual equality" in Dularn, but it is not the "same" as the sort of a perverted "sexual equality" that the feminists of the 20th Century apparently wanted for women. I should also note here that there is no "alimony" as such. (R.S.) The trail at points grew difficult to follow, but at each of these points there would be scuff marks to guide me, it being ob- vious to me that Carol still hoped that I lived, or otherwise she wouldn't have bothered trying to leave the "trail" that she was! Something moved through the trees to my right, something tan and slinky, something big! I paused behind a tree, my sword at the "ready" although I knew how useless a weapon it would be against such as that. I recalled Lorraine's "adventures" with the "Tigon" as such were called. She had water at least to help her. I did have my crude spear, but I doubted its "value" here! It was with a deep heartfelt sigh of relief that I saw the creature now slink off, the body striped like that of the tiger. Such creatures do not normally include "man" as their prey, but one can never be "sure" about such things either! In any case I was damn glad to see the last of it as I once again took the dim trail that I hoped would lead me to these outlaws' "encampment". To my stolen lost "love". To that provocative brownette of mine! Carol is more to me than life itself. She is what makes my life worth living. It is more than just "love" as such. More than just the fact she is "good in bed". Carol is the sort of a woman who makes you delight in the fact that you were born a man! That we are members of a race that includes two sexes, not one... The sun was close to the horizon when I faintly smelled the odor of wood smoke. The smell of a campfire. Had I found the camp of those who had stolen my beloved Carol? Was it here that I would find her again? They had my Carol! She was mine! About her lovely throat had been the golden chain that marked her mine! The golden chain I'd put about her lovely throat years ago as a "mark" of what she meant to me, my wonderful Carol Lynn Simmons! Cautiously I crept closer, every sense alert now. I moved "only" when I had assured myself that no one had seen me. I was but one man against an unknown number of the "enemy". They might well have bows, perhaps crossbows. Such can be as deadly as the rifles of my own era. That as developed and perfected by the in- dustrious caste of Builders of Dularn will hurl a sharp pointed steel shafted bolt a distance of three hundred and thirty yards. One who has fully "mastered" such a weapon may do so as often as four times in the space of a minute, I note here for the reader. The outlaws' encampment was in a small clearing that to my surprise overlooked the ocean! The Pacific! I had for the mo- ment forgotten the fact that the great earthquakes that followed The War of 2047 A.D. only added to the destruction caused by the Lorr's bombing of the Earth from their orbiting battle discs! At the moment, however, I fear my only thought was for Carol as I saw her lying there with her wrists tied to a tree at the edge of the clearing! And with her ankles tied to stakes driven into the ground so that she laid helpless before them, spread for her rape if such had not already been done to her as I feared it had been! There were five men, rough looking brutes, some in vests and leather kilts like the dead man whose weapons I now carried, while others wore forest green tunics and hose, making me think of "Robin Hood and his Merrie Men" of legend. A half dozen horned unicorns were tied to a hitching rope strung there between two trees a short distance from my wife. I studied the terrain, searching for a way to reach my Carol that they would not see. I did not see any such a way just then. To face the five of them in a sword fight was out of the question. I know that the leg- endary Lorraine once fought a dozen men, or so it is said, but she also had an element of "surprise" that I wouldn't enjoy here! As well as the fact that she had "help" too that I didn't have... |
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