"2567-04" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jerome Bigge - Warlady 5 - The Warlady Of Dularn)"THE WARLADY OF DULARN" 2567 A.D.! By Jerome Bigge Chapter Four "Strange bitch, isn't she?" I heard one of the men say, his words strangely accented, almost as if he wasn't speaking in Eng- lish. His speech, the best I can describe it, being a mixture of Spanish and English, what Lorraine once called "wetback English"! "Some kind of a `Dulie' spy from the looks of her," another said, standing there regarding Carol as she laid there helpless before them, "staked out" there on the ground for their pleasure! The very "way" that she laid, her head turned to one side, left no doubts in my mind that she had already been "sexually abused"! I could see a number of livid bruises on her body from having been beaten. Her face especially was quite badly bruised, I saw! Smeared with dried blood from a nosebleed she'd suffered earlier. "Could be off that `raider' that been around these parts," another added, chewing on a piece of dried smoked meat. "Giving the Warlady's people the `fits'," he added with a low chuckle. I had no doubt either that they were referring to Lorraine herself! "Think the slavers would buy her?" the fourth now ventured, a fifth now strolling off into the forest towards me, his inten- tions obviously being to find a spot to relieve himself. I felt it best then to follow the man, in the hopes that I might be able to "reduce" the odds against me at least by this much! If only I could free my Carol. Together we might "stand" against the four! "Do good in the arena too with muscles like she's got," the first laughed, Carol helplessly fighting her bonds as the man ap- proached her. I recalled that in this era women were often made to fight each other in the arena for the amusement of the "crowd". Much like the Roman "Games" twenty five centuries ago. Such "contests" are often between slave girls using "blunt- ed" swords or other weapons. They are usually briefly clad, such women often being a part of a "stable" of "fighting women" owned by some "promoter". Other "contests" are fought hand to hand, their bodies often "greased". One thinks of here of somewhat "similar" events in the 20th Century such as our boxing matches which can hardly be considered a "sport". Watching people fight one another is a "sport" I feel that probably dates back to the Stone Age. One "wonders" sometimes about just how "civilized" we are. The "culture" of 26th Century California and Dularn to a lesser extent is very "similar" to that of Rome at its height. I watched the man pass me, it obviously being his intention to find a fallen tree on which to "sit", such being the best way to empty one's bowels in reasonable comfort. I moved away from the encampment, following the man. My sword gleaming in my hand. Fortunately the brush was fairly thick, allowing me to move away from the encampment with little danger of being spotted just now! ***************************************************************** "You know `how' to `please' a man, Dularnian bitch?" the man said, standing there, looking down at Carol. My wife shuddered at the "thought", the terror of her "position" clutching at her feminine heart. At first she'd been proud of how she'd behaved, but now, the "reality" of the situation was overwhelming her, and she could only raise a tear stained face to his as she looked up. "Just `fuck me' if that's what you want," Carol whimpered in soft tones, trying to avoid looking into his eyes. The "talk" about selling her to "slavers" terrifying. Did Bob yet live? A forlorn hope was all that "survived" now. They would have killed him had they not been in a hurry to get out of the area, saying something about "forest girls" that had meant nothing to her! It being apparent from their conversation that there was a band of runaway slave girls living somewhere in the area, women who lived by their "wits" and what they could hunt and steal from peasants! Much like the "libbies" of her own Twentieth Century novels had! "`Better' when a woman uses her mouth," the man growled, his eyes burning hotly into hers as he reached down and yanked up her head, Carol mentally shuddering at the very thought of performing such a "deed" with a man like him! Of having to do such a thing! ***************************************************************** I didn't give the man a chance to even cry out a warning! I took a two handed grip on my sword and swung it in a mighty cut that severed his head from his body as he sat there on the log! The body "toppling" off the log, the head lying there, the eyes wide with shocked horror as for a few seconds the mouth continued to move before actual unconsciousness and death now came to him! A stink rising up from the twitching body as his bowels emptied. Suddenly I felt then a warm feminine hand go over my mouth, a keen edge pressing up against my throat! Felt the curves of a woman's body press against my back, and saw two other women, clad in poorly tanned animal skins, the remains of clothing, step out into the field of my vision! Each armed with a crude bow, with sharpened sticks thrust into their skin belts like crude daggers! I felt it "wise" then to now gently drop my sword to the ground. "Why did you kill him?" one asked, auburn haired, the other one dark haired as is common among the women of Trelandar. The one behind me I thought was a "brunette", but I wasn't sure. Such women, I knew, would not hesitate to "kill" at the slightest "wrong move". Like most women of the 26th Century, they were not afraid of using "violence" against an enemy, or of "killing" him. This is not a "civilized" era by the standards of my own century. It is much like that of European society during the Middle Ages. "They took my wife," I answered, motioning with my head, the girl behind me obviously competent enough to cut my throat should I make the slightest "wrong move". I recalled Carol's "libbies" in her stories. Remembered Lorraine mentioning something about Darlanis having led some sort of expedition against female out- laws. These were doubtlessly the same sort. Each wore about her throat a snug fitting steel collar. The mark of the slave girl! Such collars being impossible to remove without the use of tools. "We will help you if you will help us get to Dularn," the leader spoke, her eyes, an iron gray, burning hot straight into mine. I felt it best just then not to tell her that I knew next to nothing about getting anyone to "Dularn", and I wasn't too sure that the Dularnians wouldn't just keep them as slave girls! The men of Dularn, like those of California, often viewing the women of other countries in terms of slave collars and the whip! While most men do not own slave girls, I do suspect that the free woman of both California and Dularn is "different" than she would be otherwise just because slave girls do exist and can be bought! Surprisingly enough there is little opposition by women to this!* * An "exception" of course being Queen Maris and my wife Carol. "I will do for you what I can," I said, it being obvious that they thought me "Dularnian" due doubtlessly to my "accent". Lorraine remarked on the same thing in her first book, and I do find that unlike those of California, those of Dularn do speak in an accent that is much like that of Twentieth Century Americans! "You keep the Caste Codes?" their leader asked. I nodded. Those of the Warriors lived by a strict Code of Honor. Their promise is their "bond". This is an era in which contracts are kept. There are few "lawyers", and no laws favoring them either! The legal profession being prohibited by law from holding public office, I might note here, which doubtlessly tells us much here! "Your mate is of the Warrioresses?" the leader asked as she laid beside me watching the outlaws before us. She could have used a bath. She was a good looking wench, but one I'd much pre- fer to stay "upwind" from too! Her attire was quite "brief", and concealed little of her figure, which was excellent, I had noted. "Probably a `match' for any two of those," I answered back. I wasn't too sure how these women would be in a fight, but I only needed enough of a distraction to free Carol, and I was pretty sure that the three of us could deal with the four remaining men! The auburn woman was from Dularn, and said that she knew how to fight. "If you can make some sort of a `fuss'," I added, the woman nodding, her iron gray eyes glowing into mine there in the growing darkness. The sun now low on the horizon, a red ball the color of her hair now hovering just over the ocean. It would be night soon, and in a land where I had little idea of what sort of animal life might be about! Her name was Sandi Cahill, she said, telling me that she had been a shop keeper's daughter in Arsana. I watched the man kneel over her, grasping Carol's hair, and force her mouth up against himself. I wanted to order the girls to use their bows, but I feared that their marksmanship might be such that Carol's life would be as much endangered as his might! The horrors of what Carol had been forced to endure made me furi- ous at whoever was "responsible" for getting us into this "mess"! "Make a `fuss' over there," I said, pointing, hoping that the men would rush to that part of the woods. I did not think that the other two women would be any "match" for the outlaws in a fight. Especially not if it got to be hand to hand. I had armed Sandi with the dead man's weapons. She was Dularnian, and like all Dularnians, was trained in the use of such weapons. I decided to keep her with me. She could free Carol while I tried to hold off the other outlaws. I had told the other two former slave girls to fire their arrows at the men only when they were "sure" of their targets. I feared their skill might be lacking! "Now!" I hissed, charging the camp, Miss Cahill at my side! I saw one of the outlaws clutch at an arrow, yank it out of him- self. The arrows were but sharpened sticks. The bows were not of a sort that could drive an arrow either far or also very deep! I charged the man closest to me, meeting his thrust with a quick parry, slashing upwards, cutting his throat, the blood dark as it spurted, the others yelling, running towards me! One yet clutching a bleeding thigh, where an arrow had driven into him! I saw the blurred streak of an arrow, the missile flying wide of its mark. Then suddenly Carol was at my side, her slim keen blade flashing in the dying rays of the setting sun, and Sandi Cahill now dashing about to stand there on the other side of me! The odds were "three to three", but there never was any doubt of what the "outcome" would be. Carol's blade moved with a swiftness that dazzled the eye, the man staggering back almost as quickly as he had engaged her, the blood spurting as he dropped his sword to clutch at his pierced heart! My own stumbled back, the blood now spurting from his neck, while my new sword compan- ion drove her keen point up through his throat up into his brain! The third man dropping his sword and collapsing to the ground! A few twitches marking the final dissolution as he went on to "face Lys" as they say here in this era to be judged for his "sins"... "I `knew' you would come," Carol said to me, suddenly then throwing herself into my arms, sobbing and weeping as she clung to me while the three runaway slave girls looked on at the scene! I could feel her tremble as I held her, stroking her dirty matted hair. She had been raped, beaten up, kicked a few times, but just then I think nothing really mattered to her but the fact we were still both alive. That we had both survived this adventure! "THE WARLADY OF DULARN" 2567 A.D.! By Jerome Bigge Chapter Four "Strange bitch, isn't she?" I heard one of the men say, his words strangely accented, almost as if he wasn't speaking in Eng- lish. His speech, the best I can describe it, being a mixture of Spanish and English, what Lorraine once called "wetback English"! "Some kind of a `Dulie' spy from the looks of her," another said, standing there regarding Carol as she laid there helpless before them, "staked out" there on the ground for their pleasure! The very "way" that she laid, her head turned to one side, left no doubts in my mind that she had already been "sexually abused"! I could see a number of livid bruises on her body from having been beaten. Her face especially was quite badly bruised, I saw! Smeared with dried blood from a nosebleed she'd suffered earlier. "Could be off that `raider' that been around these parts," another added, chewing on a piece of dried smoked meat. "Giving the Warlady's people the `fits'," he added with a low chuckle. I had no doubt either that they were referring to Lorraine herself! "Think the slavers would buy her?" the fourth now ventured, a fifth now strolling off into the forest towards me, his inten- tions obviously being to find a spot to relieve himself. I felt it best then to follow the man, in the hopes that I might be able to "reduce" the odds against me at least by this much! If only I could free my Carol. Together we might "stand" against the four! "Do good in the arena too with muscles like she's got," the first laughed, Carol helplessly fighting her bonds as the man ap- proached her. I recalled that in this era women were often made to fight each other in the arena for the amusement of the "crowd". Much like the Roman "Games" twenty five centuries ago. Such "contests" are often between slave girls using "blunt- ed" swords or other weapons. They are usually briefly clad, such women often being a part of a "stable" of "fighting women" owned by some "promoter". Other "contests" are fought hand to hand, their bodies often "greased". One thinks of here of somewhat "similar" events in the 20th Century such as our boxing matches which can hardly be considered a "sport". Watching people fight one another is a "sport" I feel that probably dates back to the Stone Age. One "wonders" sometimes about just how "civilized" we are. The "culture" of 26th Century California and Dularn to a lesser extent is very "similar" to that of Rome at its height. I watched the man pass me, it obviously being his intention to find a fallen tree on which to "sit", such being the best way to empty one's bowels in reasonable comfort. I moved away from the encampment, following the man. My sword gleaming in my hand. Fortunately the brush was fairly thick, allowing me to move away from the encampment with little danger of being spotted just now! ***************************************************************** "You know `how' to `please' a man, Dularnian bitch?" the man said, standing there, looking down at Carol. My wife shuddered at the "thought", the terror of her "position" clutching at her feminine heart. At first she'd been proud of how she'd behaved, but now, the "reality" of the situation was overwhelming her, and she could only raise a tear stained face to his as she looked up. "Just `fuck me' if that's what you want," Carol whimpered in soft tones, trying to avoid looking into his eyes. The "talk" about selling her to "slavers" terrifying. Did Bob yet live? A forlorn hope was all that "survived" now. They would have killed him had they not been in a hurry to get out of the area, saying something about "forest girls" that had meant nothing to her! It being apparent from their conversation that there was a band of runaway slave girls living somewhere in the area, women who lived by their "wits" and what they could hunt and steal from peasants! Much like the "libbies" of her own Twentieth Century novels had! "`Better' when a woman uses her mouth," the man growled, his eyes burning hotly into hers as he reached down and yanked up her head, Carol mentally shuddering at the very thought of performing such a "deed" with a man like him! Of having to do such a thing! ***************************************************************** I didn't give the man a chance to even cry out a warning! I took a two handed grip on my sword and swung it in a mighty cut that severed his head from his body as he sat there on the log! The body "toppling" off the log, the head lying there, the eyes wide with shocked horror as for a few seconds the mouth continued to move before actual unconsciousness and death now came to him! A stink rising up from the twitching body as his bowels emptied. Suddenly I felt then a warm feminine hand go over my mouth, a keen edge pressing up against my throat! Felt the curves of a woman's body press against my back, and saw two other women, clad in poorly tanned animal skins, the remains of clothing, step out into the field of my vision! Each armed with a crude bow, with sharpened sticks thrust into their skin belts like crude daggers! I felt it "wise" then to now gently drop my sword to the ground. "Why did you kill him?" one asked, auburn haired, the other one dark haired as is common among the women of Trelandar. The one behind me I thought was a "brunette", but I wasn't sure. Such women, I knew, would not hesitate to "kill" at the slightest "wrong move". Like most women of the 26th Century, they were not afraid of using "violence" against an enemy, or of "killing" him. This is not a "civilized" era by the standards of my own century. It is much like that of European society during the Middle Ages. "They took my wife," I answered, motioning with my head, the girl behind me obviously competent enough to cut my throat should I make the slightest "wrong move". I recalled Carol's "libbies" in her stories. Remembered Lorraine mentioning something about Darlanis having led some sort of expedition against female out- laws. These were doubtlessly the same sort. Each wore about her throat a snug fitting steel collar. The mark of the slave girl! Such collars being impossible to remove without the use of tools. "We will help you if you will help us get to Dularn," the leader spoke, her eyes, an iron gray, burning hot straight into mine. I felt it best just then not to tell her that I knew next to nothing about getting anyone to "Dularn", and I wasn't too sure that the Dularnians wouldn't just keep them as slave girls! The men of Dularn, like those of California, often viewing the women of other countries in terms of slave collars and the whip! While most men do not own slave girls, I do suspect that the free woman of both California and Dularn is "different" than she would be otherwise just because slave girls do exist and can be bought! Surprisingly enough there is little opposition by women to this!* * An "exception" of course being Queen Maris and my wife Carol. "I will do for you what I can," I said, it being obvious that they thought me "Dularnian" due doubtlessly to my "accent". Lorraine remarked on the same thing in her first book, and I do find that unlike those of California, those of Dularn do speak in an accent that is much like that of Twentieth Century Americans! "You keep the Caste Codes?" their leader asked. I nodded. Those of the Warriors lived by a strict Code of Honor. Their promise is their "bond". This is an era in which contracts are kept. There are few "lawyers", and no laws favoring them either! The legal profession being prohibited by law from holding public office, I might note here, which doubtlessly tells us much here! "Your mate is of the Warrioresses?" the leader asked as she laid beside me watching the outlaws before us. She could have used a bath. She was a good looking wench, but one I'd much pre- fer to stay "upwind" from too! Her attire was quite "brief", and concealed little of her figure, which was excellent, I had noted. "Probably a `match' for any two of those," I answered back. I wasn't too sure how these women would be in a fight, but I only needed enough of a distraction to free Carol, and I was pretty sure that the three of us could deal with the four remaining men! The auburn woman was from Dularn, and said that she knew how to fight. "If you can make some sort of a `fuss'," I added, the woman nodding, her iron gray eyes glowing into mine there in the growing darkness. The sun now low on the horizon, a red ball the color of her hair now hovering just over the ocean. It would be night soon, and in a land where I had little idea of what sort of animal life might be about! Her name was Sandi Cahill, she said, telling me that she had been a shop keeper's daughter in Arsana. I watched the man kneel over her, grasping Carol's hair, and force her mouth up against himself. I wanted to order the girls to use their bows, but I feared that their marksmanship might be such that Carol's life would be as much endangered as his might! The horrors of what Carol had been forced to endure made me furi- ous at whoever was "responsible" for getting us into this "mess"! "Make a `fuss' over there," I said, pointing, hoping that the men would rush to that part of the woods. I did not think that the other two women would be any "match" for the outlaws in a fight. Especially not if it got to be hand to hand. I had armed Sandi with the dead man's weapons. She was Dularnian, and like all Dularnians, was trained in the use of such weapons. I decided to keep her with me. She could free Carol while I tried to hold off the other outlaws. I had told the other two former slave girls to fire their arrows at the men only when they were "sure" of their targets. I feared their skill might be lacking! "Now!" I hissed, charging the camp, Miss Cahill at my side! I saw one of the outlaws clutch at an arrow, yank it out of him- self. The arrows were but sharpened sticks. The bows were not of a sort that could drive an arrow either far or also very deep! I charged the man closest to me, meeting his thrust with a quick parry, slashing upwards, cutting his throat, the blood dark as it spurted, the others yelling, running towards me! One yet clutching a bleeding thigh, where an arrow had driven into him! I saw the blurred streak of an arrow, the missile flying wide of its mark. Then suddenly Carol was at my side, her slim keen blade flashing in the dying rays of the setting sun, and Sandi Cahill now dashing about to stand there on the other side of me! The odds were "three to three", but there never was any doubt of what the "outcome" would be. Carol's blade moved with a swiftness that dazzled the eye, the man staggering back almost as quickly as he had engaged her, the blood spurting as he dropped his sword to clutch at his pierced heart! My own stumbled back, the blood now spurting from his neck, while my new sword compan- ion drove her keen point up through his throat up into his brain! The third man dropping his sword and collapsing to the ground! A few twitches marking the final dissolution as he went on to "face Lys" as they say here in this era to be judged for his "sins"... "I `knew' you would come," Carol said to me, suddenly then throwing herself into my arms, sobbing and weeping as she clung to me while the three runaway slave girls looked on at the scene! I could feel her tremble as I held her, stroking her dirty matted hair. She had been raped, beaten up, kicked a few times, but just then I think nothing really mattered to her but the fact we were still both alive. That we had both survived this adventure! |
|
|