"2568-06" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jerome Bigge - Warlady 6 - In Harms Way)"IN HARM'S WAY" AN ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN By Robert J. Simmons Chapter Six "Cloud'n up," Lorraine said to me, watching another boat load of firewood being rowed out to the Athena two hundred yards out. It was getting later on in the day, the sky now gray, a few flakes of snow drifting down with the breeze. Up this far north winter often lasts until almost into May, I knew from what Sandra and others aboard the North Star had told me. Men from the ships standing guard, their crossbows cocked and ready. The design of the Dularnian crossbow allows it to be cocked for some time with- out damage, I may note, the design being different from that of the older and more "simple" types still in use in California now. The Dularnian design is "compound", has a "draw" of about two hundred to two fifty, and is cocked by a combination of belt hook and foot stirrup. It is a man's weapon, most women using bows. The "maximum range" (for volley fire) of these crossbows is three hundred to three hundred and twenty meters (330 to 360 yards) A "siege crossbow" is now built here in Dularn with a range of five hundred meters, but this weapon is cocked by a windlass and usu- ally fired from a support of some sort. A number of these were carried aboard the North Star, designed to be fired from mounts set on the railings. The bolt is quite heavy, I will mention, and will often go completely through a man at almost any range. These weapons were a new design, and we didn't have them the year before when we'd faced the Imperial Warlady there in Trelandar... Carol and I having done our "best" to "match" Lorraine's weapons. "Going to snow too," I smiled, the Warlady's dark eyes meet- ing mine as she nodded in reply. Kathi standing there looking at us, all huddled up in her coat, her head barely sticking out like a turtle's from its shell. It was most definitely colder now, the sun gone behind the clouds. I expected snow before sunset... "That should be enough firewood," Lorraine said, seeing the last of the loads now being dragged from the forest, the pines in their greenery the only bit of green in the terrain I could see. She had a "reserve" supply of lamp oil, which could be used to provide a hotter fire if needed. Coal is not found in Trelandar, although there are supplies of it elsewhere, I might mention now. It is sometimes used as a fuel in Dularn, although most people prefer to burn firewood, which is plentiful on our wooded island. "Hard to believe anyone could live in these woods," I said. I yet tend to be a person of the Twentieth Century in some ways. "I suppose it's what you get `used' to," Lorraine answered, giving me a smile. I knew that people had once lived here long ago, some of our wood choppers having found some ancient ruins. Bit and pieces of "rubble" that spoke of another era now history. "Too damm cold for me," I muttered, shivering a bit despite my greatcoat and well aware that it wouldn't be much "warmer" aboard the ship either. We were a long ways north of Dularn now, almost to the point where I would now open the "sealed orders" Maris had given me over a week before. One of the midshipmen now bringing the rear, glancing nervously behind himself at the dark forest, no doubt having listened to some of the sailors' tales... "You're missing someone," Lorraine said, glancing about. I felt a sudden "chill" go through me at the thought of "who" it might be! I hadn't seen Shari Johnson for some time now either!! "We can't remain anchored on a lee shore like this," Sandra said to me, pacing the quarterdeck beside me, the snow now blow- ing down on us like a white hail. Little hard pellets that stung one's face when they hit. I nodded, well aware of that "truth". If the wind got up any we could lose all three of our ships now. "She's alone, doubtlessly lost, terrified, cold," I said. "We can leave a cache of supplies for her," Sandra said. "I will spend the night ashore," I said, seeing her nod. "I'm surprised to see you here," I said, Lorraine arranging a windbreak out of a portion of an old sail she had brought with her. She already had a fire going, the smoke drifting off into the woods before us, the snow almost hiding the ships from us as they took the wind in their sails and headed back out to sea now. There was beside her a large bag filled with a number of items... "I wish to make `contact' with those living in this area," the Warlady answered, adding more fuel to her fire. "They may have information that we need if we are to recover my daughter." The Queen of Trelandar in her furs looking much like some Eskimo. I had dressed in my uniform, a sweater underneath, a stocking cap to cover my head, my greatcoat for warmth, heavy socks on my feet there inside my boots. And a couple blankets for sleeping. Like her I had also brought with me a portion of an old sail as well as enough supplies for a week or so if Shari didn't return. In such a case the supplies would be left for her if she made it to the site of our former camp. There was little more I could do... "Perhaps they will have found my officer," I said to her, thinking of how "competent" she was in a situation like this one. That had always been something I'd admired about the woman even back in the 20th Century. There is only one "Lorraine". There probably will never be another. I am glad that I have known her. I am sorry in a way that we are divided as we are by "politics". "Most likely they `took' her," Lorraine answered, throwing some pine branches on the fire, making it blaze up even more now. "The `idea' of `Amazons' isn't that far fetched either, I feel." Adding that this part of North America was mostly "unknown" now. I recalled too that Carl Cabot's wife, Tasha, of the Scribes, had done some "exploration" a ways to the south of here in what is called the "Northern Territories" by us of Dularn. There is much yet to be learned of life during the 21st Century before The War of 2047 put an "end" to everything. One question that has always puzzled those of the "LEARNED CASTE" as Scribes are often thought of is the "fact" that the black race in North America was nearly exterminated just after The War, only a few ever surviving, and those for the most part being women. On the other hand given the nature of Black culture as my wife and I knew it in the 20th Cen- tury, I suspect that the "answer" is really not that difficult... Blacks being the most "hated" minority in the history of Mankind. Their "extermination" once "law and order" broke down logical... "Women living without men?" I ventured, helping her set up our camp now. I supposed it was possible. There are bands of runaway slave girls in the more southern parts of the Empire where it is possible to live mostly out of doors the year around. Such women often tend to be a serious "nuisance" to the Peasants. "That band under San-sha was a `bother' for nearly a year," the Queen smiled, looking up at me, her dark eyes glowing into mine as I squatted down across the fire from her, the smoke of it stinging my eyes a bit. "And with `leadership' I see no reason why women could not live by themselves for generations without men except for reproductive purposes," Lorraine Richards smiled. "A `leader' like you," I said, seeing Lorraine smiling back. "We still have `feelings' for each other, don't we?" she said. I nodded. I loved Carol, and I'm sure she loved Jon, but yet there is between Lorraine and me "something" completely dif- ferent from what ordinarily passes between a man and a woman... "It `hurt' to have `you' as an `enemy'," I said to her. "Let us never be `enemies' again," she answered me. "Do you ever wish you could go back?" Lorraine asked as we sat side by side before the fire, the sail spread between two trees behind us keeping off a good portion of the snow, the wind. "Carol and I had a `good life'," I said, thinking of all the good times we'd had. The "comforts", the lack of "worries" that had made our lives together an "perfect" marriage few might know. I had noted as had Carol that here we didn't make love as we had. That life was not the "same" as it had been for us back in 1991. I supposed our lives had more "meaning", but the "fun" was gone. I often looked upon our "old life" as a "dream" that was over... On the other hand there was a degree of "excitement", of "doing" things that we'd never dreamed of back in our own time. I think that Carol and I were like a pair of children living together as we did, living off my inheritance, playing all our little sexual "games" that we played together like a couple of teenagers who had just "discovered" the pleasures of sex. That there was some- thing "missing" from our lives is obvious when you reconsider the last few years of our marriage, both our "reactions" to Lorraine. Mine in seeking a woman who was "more" than just a "playmate", and Carol's attempts to "remake" herself into another "Lorraine". "I'm `happy' here," Lorraine said to me. She'd been unhappy back in the 20th Century, married to that lecher of a husband of hers who chased after every woman he saw, including my own wife! "This is `where' I belong, where my heart is despite everything." "You never did belong in the Twentieth Century," I smiled. "It was a dying society, and rotten at the core," she said. "You changed history in a way no one ever has," I told her. Lorraine had been "responsible" for Janet Rogers, the most famous woman of all time. For a few brief decades it had been almost a "Golden Age" in a way before her death there in a Lorr spaceship. It was not a "perfect society" (Has there ever been one?), but it had "rectified" most of the "mistakes" that had been made in the 20th Century. One could not deny that even if Janet Rogers was not all that "popular" with those who wrote our Dularnian school books. Janet had been a "dictator", sometimes perhaps ruthless with her enemies, but in her own way she had given Man more true "freedom" than he'd ever known for centuries under any democracy. On the other hand Janet was strongly opposed by those who had for generations lived off the taxpayers as simple "economic drones". She having abolished "welfare", the "minimum wage", and such... "I'm `good' at a few things," the Imperial Warlady smiled. Carol had never "understood" the relationship between me and this woman. Lorraine was not like other women. There is nothing "fe- male" about her. She is more of the "sort" like Queen Victoria. "You `understood' the `mistake' of `Civil Rights'," I said. We had often "discussed" such matters back in the 20th Century. Lorraine had been "opposed" to the concept of "Civil Rights". Saying that any society who "encouraged" such things was doomed! "The `ideology of slaves', not of `free men'," she answered. "`Equality' is a `myth' that can exist only in a true `socialist' society." The Twentieth Century author, John Norman, had spoken of the same things. I think he would enjoyed meeting this fan- tastic woman! Socialism had proved to be a historical failure, the World Federation of Janet Rogers having been quite different, its "makeup" in many aspects being more like that of "Fascism"... "A social order where one `earns' their place," I answered. "Like `here' in this time," the Queen of Trelandar smiled in reply, now bending forward, stirring up the fire there at our feet. "A culture that has much to recommend it in my opinion." "You should put your ideas in writing," I suggested to her. "I have," the famous Warlady smiled, the fire blazing up. "We are not alone," Lorraine whispered, her keen eyes having missed little. It was night now, the snow still yet falling, al- though in large soft flakes that coated everything in "white". I saw the woman step out into the firelight, a great dire wolf at her side the size of a bear. I could see the saddle on its back! "You will not reach for a weapon," she spoke, the words in a strangely accented English, the bow half drawn leaving no doubts! She was clad in furs, much like Lorraine's, although not as well made, her facial features, coloring indicating that she was of a mixed race, perhaps a part "native American" and part a "white". "That doubtlessly would be wise," the Warlady answered as she got to her feet, raising her hands. I followed her example. "We took the woman of your people," the woman volunteered. Several of her fur clad companions now stepping out into the firelight, their bows now held with arrows pointed at our hearts! "You will follow me," the woman said, mounting her wolf. I didn't think we really had too much "choice" in the matter either right now. She had tied our hands securely behind our backs, and looped rawhide ropes around our necks that left no "doubts" as to our probable "fate" should we attempt to resist her in any way... Her companions now mounted their own beasts, the animals appear- ing to be a "larger" version of the dire wolf known to the south. While not as "large" as horses or unicorns, they appeared well able to bear the weight of these women, who like the women of Ta- lon (a nation that borders Trelandar), were rather small in size. "The `stories' were right," Lorraine whispered with a smile. "The ultimate `consequences' of `feminism'," I smiled back. "We are not as `incompetent' as men often think," she said. It seemed as we marched for hours through the snow covered forest there in the darkness, although Lorraine says now that it wasn't that long. No doubt being the Warrioress she is Lorraine was carefully "observing" such matters. The "attitude" of a true Warrioress of this era is something hard for one of the 20th Cen- tury like Carol or I to understand. Lorraine is such a woman... I recalled the time last year when Carol and I had been cap- tured by Lady Tirana (the Warlady of Trelandar) and with three other captives had been marched on a rope back to the royal es- tates of the Queen of Trelandar. This was much like that time, except that back then we'd been able to see where we were going! Now one could only see the dark boles of the trees against the paleness of the snow, the "stillness" as we moved almost awesome. Unlike a horse or unicorn, the soft pads of the giant wolves made very little sound there in the snow, the women themselves in their furs apparently not being of a "talkative" type unlike most of their sex. Little was known of this land by those of the south, the world of the Twenty Sixth Century in many ways resem- bling that of the far distant past. That a social order of this nature could exist a thousand miles north of Dularn didn't sur- prise me that much as Dularnian political power does not extend more than a few hundred miles at the best north of the island. I wondered what sort of "culture" such a society like this might have. The woman of the 26th Century tends to be much more "able" and "self-sufficient" than her sister of my time, and a society of "Amazons" really didn't seem that far out of place right now! The fact that they had taken our supplies, Lorraine's "trade goods" had left no doubts that we might be in for a serious time! "IN HARM'S WAY" AN ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN By Robert J. Simmons Chapter Six "Cloud'n up," Lorraine said to me, watching another boat load of firewood being rowed out to the Athena two hundred yards out. It was getting later on in the day, the sky now gray, a few flakes of snow drifting down with the breeze. Up this far north winter often lasts until almost into May, I knew from what Sandra and others aboard the North Star had told me. Men from the ships standing guard, their crossbows cocked and ready. The design of the Dularnian crossbow allows it to be cocked for some time with- out damage, I may note, the design being different from that of the older and more "simple" types still in use in California now. The Dularnian design is "compound", has a "draw" of about two hundred to two fifty, and is cocked by a combination of belt hook and foot stirrup. It is a man's weapon, most women using bows. The "maximum range" (for volley fire) of these crossbows is three hundred to three hundred and twenty meters (330 to 360 yards) A "siege crossbow" is now built here in Dularn with a range of five hundred meters, but this weapon is cocked by a windlass and usu- ally fired from a support of some sort. A number of these were carried aboard the North Star, designed to be fired from mounts set on the railings. The bolt is quite heavy, I will mention, and will often go completely through a man at almost any range. These weapons were a new design, and we didn't have them the year before when we'd faced the Imperial Warlady there in Trelandar... Carol and I having done our "best" to "match" Lorraine's weapons. "Going to snow too," I smiled, the Warlady's dark eyes meet- ing mine as she nodded in reply. Kathi standing there looking at us, all huddled up in her coat, her head barely sticking out like a turtle's from its shell. It was most definitely colder now, the sun gone behind the clouds. I expected snow before sunset... "That should be enough firewood," Lorraine said, seeing the last of the loads now being dragged from the forest, the pines in their greenery the only bit of green in the terrain I could see. She had a "reserve" supply of lamp oil, which could be used to provide a hotter fire if needed. Coal is not found in Trelandar, although there are supplies of it elsewhere, I might mention now. It is sometimes used as a fuel in Dularn, although most people prefer to burn firewood, which is plentiful on our wooded island. "Hard to believe anyone could live in these woods," I said. I yet tend to be a person of the Twentieth Century in some ways. "I suppose it's what you get `used' to," Lorraine answered, giving me a smile. I knew that people had once lived here long ago, some of our wood choppers having found some ancient ruins. Bit and pieces of "rubble" that spoke of another era now history. "Too damm cold for me," I muttered, shivering a bit despite my greatcoat and well aware that it wouldn't be much "warmer" aboard the ship either. We were a long ways north of Dularn now, almost to the point where I would now open the "sealed orders" Maris had given me over a week before. One of the midshipmen now bringing the rear, glancing nervously behind himself at the dark forest, no doubt having listened to some of the sailors' tales... "You're missing someone," Lorraine said, glancing about. I felt a sudden "chill" go through me at the thought of "who" it might be! I hadn't seen Shari Johnson for some time now either!! "We can't remain anchored on a lee shore like this," Sandra said to me, pacing the quarterdeck beside me, the snow now blow- ing down on us like a white hail. Little hard pellets that stung one's face when they hit. I nodded, well aware of that "truth". If the wind got up any we could lose all three of our ships now. "She's alone, doubtlessly lost, terrified, cold," I said. "We can leave a cache of supplies for her," Sandra said. "I will spend the night ashore," I said, seeing her nod. "I'm surprised to see you here," I said, Lorraine arranging a windbreak out of a portion of an old sail she had brought with her. She already had a fire going, the smoke drifting off into the woods before us, the snow almost hiding the ships from us as they took the wind in their sails and headed back out to sea now. There was beside her a large bag filled with a number of items... "I wish to make `contact' with those living in this area," the Warlady answered, adding more fuel to her fire. "They may have information that we need if we are to recover my daughter." The Queen of Trelandar in her furs looking much like some Eskimo. I had dressed in my uniform, a sweater underneath, a stocking cap to cover my head, my greatcoat for warmth, heavy socks on my feet there inside my boots. And a couple blankets for sleeping. Like her I had also brought with me a portion of an old sail as well as enough supplies for a week or so if Shari didn't return. In such a case the supplies would be left for her if she made it to the site of our former camp. There was little more I could do... "Perhaps they will have found my officer," I said to her, thinking of how "competent" she was in a situation like this one. That had always been something I'd admired about the woman even back in the 20th Century. There is only one "Lorraine". There probably will never be another. I am glad that I have known her. I am sorry in a way that we are divided as we are by "politics". "Most likely they `took' her," Lorraine answered, throwing some pine branches on the fire, making it blaze up even more now. "The `idea' of `Amazons' isn't that far fetched either, I feel." Adding that this part of North America was mostly "unknown" now. I recalled too that Carl Cabot's wife, Tasha, of the Scribes, had done some "exploration" a ways to the south of here in what is called the "Northern Territories" by us of Dularn. There is much yet to be learned of life during the 21st Century before The War of 2047 put an "end" to everything. One question that has always puzzled those of the "LEARNED CASTE" as Scribes are often thought of is the "fact" that the black race in North America was nearly exterminated just after The War, only a few ever surviving, and those for the most part being women. On the other hand given the nature of Black culture as my wife and I knew it in the 20th Cen- tury, I suspect that the "answer" is really not that difficult... Blacks being the most "hated" minority in the history of Mankind. Their "extermination" once "law and order" broke down logical... "Women living without men?" I ventured, helping her set up our camp now. I supposed it was possible. There are bands of runaway slave girls in the more southern parts of the Empire where it is possible to live mostly out of doors the year around. Such women often tend to be a serious "nuisance" to the Peasants. "That band under San-sha was a `bother' for nearly a year," the Queen smiled, looking up at me, her dark eyes glowing into mine as I squatted down across the fire from her, the smoke of it stinging my eyes a bit. "And with `leadership' I see no reason why women could not live by themselves for generations without men except for reproductive purposes," Lorraine Richards smiled. "A `leader' like you," I said, seeing Lorraine smiling back. "We still have `feelings' for each other, don't we?" she said. I nodded. I loved Carol, and I'm sure she loved Jon, but yet there is between Lorraine and me "something" completely dif- ferent from what ordinarily passes between a man and a woman... "It `hurt' to have `you' as an `enemy'," I said to her. "Let us never be `enemies' again," she answered me. "Do you ever wish you could go back?" Lorraine asked as we sat side by side before the fire, the sail spread between two trees behind us keeping off a good portion of the snow, the wind. "Carol and I had a `good life'," I said, thinking of all the good times we'd had. The "comforts", the lack of "worries" that had made our lives together an "perfect" marriage few might know. I had noted as had Carol that here we didn't make love as we had. That life was not the "same" as it had been for us back in 1991. I supposed our lives had more "meaning", but the "fun" was gone. I often looked upon our "old life" as a "dream" that was over... On the other hand there was a degree of "excitement", of "doing" things that we'd never dreamed of back in our own time. I think that Carol and I were like a pair of children living together as we did, living off my inheritance, playing all our little sexual "games" that we played together like a couple of teenagers who had just "discovered" the pleasures of sex. That there was some- thing "missing" from our lives is obvious when you reconsider the last few years of our marriage, both our "reactions" to Lorraine. Mine in seeking a woman who was "more" than just a "playmate", and Carol's attempts to "remake" herself into another "Lorraine". "I'm `happy' here," Lorraine said to me. She'd been unhappy back in the 20th Century, married to that lecher of a husband of hers who chased after every woman he saw, including my own wife! "This is `where' I belong, where my heart is despite everything." "You never did belong in the Twentieth Century," I smiled. "It was a dying society, and rotten at the core," she said. "You changed history in a way no one ever has," I told her. Lorraine had been "responsible" for Janet Rogers, the most famous woman of all time. For a few brief decades it had been almost a "Golden Age" in a way before her death there in a Lorr spaceship. It was not a "perfect society" (Has there ever been one?), but it had "rectified" most of the "mistakes" that had been made in the 20th Century. One could not deny that even if Janet Rogers was not all that "popular" with those who wrote our Dularnian school books. Janet had been a "dictator", sometimes perhaps ruthless with her enemies, but in her own way she had given Man more true "freedom" than he'd ever known for centuries under any democracy. On the other hand Janet was strongly opposed by those who had for generations lived off the taxpayers as simple "economic drones". She having abolished "welfare", the "minimum wage", and such... "I'm `good' at a few things," the Imperial Warlady smiled. Carol had never "understood" the relationship between me and this woman. Lorraine was not like other women. There is nothing "fe- male" about her. She is more of the "sort" like Queen Victoria. "You `understood' the `mistake' of `Civil Rights'," I said. We had often "discussed" such matters back in the 20th Century. Lorraine had been "opposed" to the concept of "Civil Rights". Saying that any society who "encouraged" such things was doomed! "The `ideology of slaves', not of `free men'," she answered. "`Equality' is a `myth' that can exist only in a true `socialist' society." The Twentieth Century author, John Norman, had spoken of the same things. I think he would enjoyed meeting this fan- tastic woman! Socialism had proved to be a historical failure, the World Federation of Janet Rogers having been quite different, its "makeup" in many aspects being more like that of "Fascism"... "A social order where one `earns' their place," I answered. "Like `here' in this time," the Queen of Trelandar smiled in reply, now bending forward, stirring up the fire there at our feet. "A culture that has much to recommend it in my opinion." "You should put your ideas in writing," I suggested to her. "I have," the famous Warlady smiled, the fire blazing up. "We are not alone," Lorraine whispered, her keen eyes having missed little. It was night now, the snow still yet falling, al- though in large soft flakes that coated everything in "white". I saw the woman step out into the firelight, a great dire wolf at her side the size of a bear. I could see the saddle on its back! "You will not reach for a weapon," she spoke, the words in a strangely accented English, the bow half drawn leaving no doubts! She was clad in furs, much like Lorraine's, although not as well made, her facial features, coloring indicating that she was of a mixed race, perhaps a part "native American" and part a "white". "That doubtlessly would be wise," the Warlady answered as she got to her feet, raising her hands. I followed her example. "We took the woman of your people," the woman volunteered. Several of her fur clad companions now stepping out into the firelight, their bows now held with arrows pointed at our hearts! "You will follow me," the woman said, mounting her wolf. I didn't think we really had too much "choice" in the matter either right now. She had tied our hands securely behind our backs, and looped rawhide ropes around our necks that left no "doubts" as to our probable "fate" should we attempt to resist her in any way... Her companions now mounted their own beasts, the animals appear- ing to be a "larger" version of the dire wolf known to the south. While not as "large" as horses or unicorns, they appeared well able to bear the weight of these women, who like the women of Ta- lon (a nation that borders Trelandar), were rather small in size. "The `stories' were right," Lorraine whispered with a smile. "The ultimate `consequences' of `feminism'," I smiled back. "We are not as `incompetent' as men often think," she said. It seemed as we marched for hours through the snow covered forest there in the darkness, although Lorraine says now that it wasn't that long. No doubt being the Warrioress she is Lorraine was carefully "observing" such matters. The "attitude" of a true Warrioress of this era is something hard for one of the 20th Cen- tury like Carol or I to understand. Lorraine is such a woman... I recalled the time last year when Carol and I had been cap- tured by Lady Tirana (the Warlady of Trelandar) and with three other captives had been marched on a rope back to the royal es- tates of the Queen of Trelandar. This was much like that time, except that back then we'd been able to see where we were going! Now one could only see the dark boles of the trees against the paleness of the snow, the "stillness" as we moved almost awesome. Unlike a horse or unicorn, the soft pads of the giant wolves made very little sound there in the snow, the women themselves in their furs apparently not being of a "talkative" type unlike most of their sex. Little was known of this land by those of the south, the world of the Twenty Sixth Century in many ways resem- bling that of the far distant past. That a social order of this nature could exist a thousand miles north of Dularn didn't sur- prise me that much as Dularnian political power does not extend more than a few hundred miles at the best north of the island. I wondered what sort of "culture" such a society like this might have. The woman of the 26th Century tends to be much more "able" and "self-sufficient" than her sister of my time, and a society of "Amazons" really didn't seem that far out of place right now! The fact that they had taken our supplies, Lorraine's "trade goods" had left no doubts that we might be in for a serious time! |
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