Land of Savagery

Author: Kirk Straughen

Synopsis: Plunged into another dimension by a mysterious force, Edward Norton finds himself stranded in a savage and primitive land. Captured by a band of ruthless savages he and a captive girl must escape their clutches or face a horrid end. But how can he save his own life let alone that of his beautiful companion when threatened by the countless perils of this barbaric world?

Edit history: Minor changes were made to this story on the 20 June 2021.

Chapter 1: Black Gems

The man drowned in an abysm of fear and whirling darkness - a plunge into infinity where all consciousness slowly diffused into illimitable lightless depths. For a second, or perhaps ten thousand years there was nothing – neither up nor down, neither light nor darkness, neither being nor non-being …

**********

Dappled light played across the figure of the prone man. The thousand jungle odors tickled his nose with their earthy scents. He opened his eyes, seeing yet unseeing, conscious, yet uncomprehending.

Slowly, the threads of thought rewove and order gradually emerged from the chaotic impressions that impinged upon his groping mind. He remembered his name – Edward Norton; his profession - botanist. He remembered being lowered into the narrow rugged gorge by the Solaris – the airship that had been sent to explore the remote and inaccessible areas of New Guinea’s mountainous interior, but that was all.

Time passed… Further recollections slowly rose up from the depths of his disjointed mind – black gems! Now he remembered - he’d wandered off a little from the other members of the exploration team, hoping to find some new botanical specimen unknown to science, when he’d spotted something gleaming through the dense underbrush of rampant greenery lining the banks of the bubbling stream.

Curiosity aroused, he’d forced his way through the tangled verdure and discovered gems, black as polished onyx, growing out of the frowning walls that soared above him. The gorge was very narrow at this point – high above the trees almost touched, their gnarled limbs nearly blotting out the azure sky, and in the wan light he could see the strange jewels glowed with flecks of swirling crimson light that lay imprisoned within their ebon forms. Weird, they were – hundreds of faintly luminous cubes, each the size of a man’s fist, all fused into an irregular mass perhaps several yards across.

Bending forward, he’d stared with fascination into the mass’s crystalline depths, which seemed to open up before him – an endless stellar void; the ruby flecks distant alien suns. Captivated beyond all caution, he’d reached out; touched the glowing cubes…

Memory crashed down upon Norton – the whirling darkness, the plunge into infinite depths of utter terror. He staggered upright, looked wildly about and teetered on the precipice of insanity. Everything was different – the narrow confines of the gorge were gone. Behind him was a sheer wall of rock, thick with verdure that clung to the precipitous stone. Before him, perhaps two thousand feet below was a great basin surrounded by rugged mountains blue with distance.

Through the basin flowed a mighty river bordered by tall trees. The stupendous watercourse was flanked by a grass plain broken here and there with dark fingers of rainforest that quested down from the surrounding ranges to caress its verdant banks.

Norton staggered back from the edge of the declivity that afforded him this panoramic view. Swaying drunkenly, he sagged against a tree, covered his face with a trembling hand and slid to the loamy earth. The terrifying experience of Norton’s weird transition across that stygian otherness, his awakening in these strange surroundings and the frightening inexplicability of it all had unnerved him to the point of madness.

He breathed deeply, desperately trying to retain his sanity and wondered if he was already mad. Gradually, he regained some semblance of self-control, and slowly opened his eyes. The unknown land was still there, spread out before him in all its terrifying and mysterious reality.

It’s not a hallucination, he thought. Could I have hit my head and wandered off in a daze … amnesia? He dismissed the idea – the surrounding country was like nothing the Solaris had flown above. Indeed, it was more like the landscape of the Takin river valleys, hundreds of miles to the west, a trek no man could survive walking alone through rugged and inhospitable jungle, especially if he was in a state of shock.

Norton’s mind, calmer now with the passing of his initial astonishment, turned again to the black gems, feeling that somehow they were bound up with the sequence of strange occurrences into which he had been so unexpectedly plunged. Although a botanist, he had a general knowledge of the other sciences, including physics, and remembered reading of recent speculations on the possibility that there might be many dimensions to the nature of reality.

Could it be, he pondered silently, that those gems somehow distorted time and space, opening a gateway between our planet and another unknown world?

He looked intently at the tree in whose shade he sat, thinking it might be an alien genus, but immediately identified it as a casuarina - a species indigenous to New Guinea. Its leaves were variegated, true, but this slight difference from the norm, though unusual, was a variation many plants possessed, and he dismissed his earlier hypothesis, thinking it would be highly unlikely that evolution on another world would reproduce to near perfection a terrestrial organism.

Again, a glint caught Norton’s eye. Turning, he beheld the strange crystalline formation some yards away, and its glittering cubes; dark and enigmatic, seemed to mock him with their ebon presence, a challenge to his understanding and the petty powers of Man and all his science.

It appears I’m still on Earth, he thought, relieved. I’ve simply been relocated upon the surface of the globe by some strange means.

This comforting thought, however, was quickly shattered – a twig snapped, the man turned. An oath escaped his lips with the shock of what he saw before him, only yards away: The creature’s body was humanoid, its apish arms dangling to the knees. Unlike an ape it stood upright. The head was not simian in appearance, but resembled a hyena’s; with the pelt being spotted and colored, as is a leopard’s.

The unguna’s powerful jaws gaped. The beast gave vent to a blood curdling scream. It charged towards him, seven feet of brutish ferocity, the crude club in its hand upraised for the killing blow. Norton drew his machete. He leapt aside as the club descended and smashed the ground with frightening force where but seconds ago he had stood.

Norton was not afraid – he simply had no time to be. The thing lashed out at him again with a roundhouse blow. He ducked the vicious stroke, closed; swung his blade and scored a crimson line across its massive chest. The unguna thundered its roar of pain and rage. Rabid foam dripped from its massive jaws to bloody chest.

Two handed it swung its club in a blur of utter fury. Norton blocked the stroke, but was flung sideways by its awful power. The machete, spinning from his nerveless hand was lost among the bushes, and he now lay defenseless before the beast’s volcanic rage.

Leaping to his feet Norton did the only thing he could – he ran as if the Devil was at his heels, and perhaps it was. To his left - a sheer drop to which only the tenacious trees could cling, fell away – two thousand feet of impassable descent down which he dared not plunge. To his right - soaring limestone cliffs that he couldn’t’t climb.

Behind him he heard the unguna closing in. It crashed through the undergrowth like a living bulldozer. With growing desperation Norton increased his speed along the narrow ledge, agilely dodging bushes, trees and rocks. The tangled verdure caught his clothes, his limbs. It was as if the entire jungle were another monstrous beast that also hungered for his flesh.

Frantically he forged ahead, gaining distance, only to hear a mighty roar ahead of him – another beast? Bursting through the greenery he pulled up short. The ledge had ended, severed by a mighty waterfall that fell away in glittering terrace pools to the valley floor far below, clothing it in mist and spectral rainbows.

It was a breathtaking sight, but nature’s beauty was lost to Norton at that moment, overshadowed by his frightful plight – trapped on all sides, nowhere to run and the monster but seconds away.

A frightful roar, louder than the mighty falls, shook the man. Norton turned. He saw his nemeses burst from the verdure’s emerald depths. Bloody murder and more shone in its wild eyes, the wet gleam of its vicious fangs and its bristling fur.

With a howl of feral hate it fell upon him, club swinging sideways in a braining stroke. Norton, back to the precipitous edge, drew his hunting knife. He leapt forward under the whirling weapon. Man and beast collided with bone jarring force, the knife sinking to the hilt in the creature’s hairy breast. But the momentum of its rushing charge carried it onwards; sending both victor and vanquished tumbling into the yawning abyss of swirling mist.

Chapter 2: Savage Encounter

As Norton plummeted through the airy void he managed to break free from entanglement with his would-be killer and watched the corpse fall away into misty shrouds. Below, all was lost in writhing vapors through which his tumbling body madly plunged in uncontrolled descent.

Fear gripped him like the coils of some phantom serpent, and he was on the verge of relinquishing all hope when he briefly glimpsed the glint of light on swirling water, dangerously near. With an effort born of desperation he barely straightened his body before plunging cleanly beneath the foaming pool of the mighty cataract.

Reality became a world of churning water that sucked him down into frightful stygian depths. Norton fought against the insidious lassitude creeping over him – death beckoned with its dark embrace. It whispered seductively. It was like a siren that tempted him with release from the burning pain of his air-starved lungs.

Norton fought against this paean of dissolution. With a mighty effort he struck out for the light above. His head burst through into flying spray and with coughing gasps drew life-giving air into his tortured body. His ordeals, however, were far from over – the current, too powerful to swim against, swept him onwards.

Down the succeeding cataract he plunged and clove the foaming waters of its pool. Time lost all meaning – an eternity of falling, diving and surging up from the shimmering depths that sought to smother him in their weltering thunder of waters.

On and on it went, until he reached the bottom of the stupendous falls, where the calmer waters bore his body like drifting wood. On his back he floated, barely conscious, exhausted from the exertions of his tumultuous ordeal. Slowly, strength returned to his weary limbs. He struck out for the nearby shore, crawled up upon the reedy banks and collapsed into restful stillness.

After a time, how long he could not say, Norton stood shakily and his eyes lifted to the fall’s stupendous height. Christ, he thought, knees going weak with the full realization of his ordeal. How I survived that tumble I’ll never know.

Shaking his head, he turned his thoughts towards more pressing matters. Clearly, he was not on Earth, at least not the Earth he knew – the thing that attacked him had clearly proven that. Perhaps there was a multiplicity of Earths existing cheek by jowl, each slightly different and separated from the other by the fabric of reality, which the weird gems had somehow breached.

At that startling thought home seemed very far away, and he wondered if he would ever see family and friends again. My only chance is to retrace my steps, he thought. To once again endure the frightening plunge through the black gem’s void, and hope I return to Earth.

Norton set out along the riverbank towards the foaming cataract, his eyes trying to scan the sheer slopes of the mountainside, looking for some path by which he could ascend its rugged heights. It was a task made more difficult by the tall trees lining the river, for at the margins, the rainforest had given way to dense and often impenetrable foliage. Nature overshadowed him as he moved through this twilight world. Myriads of climbing vines, some as thick as his forearm, interlaced the emerald canopy, their gorgeous blooms startlingly bright in the gloom. Butterflies, like living jewels, danced in shafts of sunlight, with flowering orchids and staghorns completing the crowded scene.

As Norton forced his way through the tangled verdure his expert eye identified dozens of plants with which he was familiar, yet subtly different from the ones he knew, and it came to him forcefully that he had indeed been thrust into a parallel world, one where evolution’s path was slightly different from the Earth he had been born upon.

The surrounding jungle was a formidable obstacle to an unprepared man, and Norton had no illusions about his desperate plight – his machete and knife had been lost in the battle with the beast; and what other equipment he had in the tumbling falls. His only possessions were the sodden clothes he wore. Thinking of the beast-man that had assailed him, Norton paused long enough to find a stout branch with which he could defend himself.

It’s not much, he thought. But better than nothing, I suppose.

Grimly, he forged ahead, refusing to surrender to dark despair. Pushing through a strand of crowding canebrakes, Norton suddenly debouched upon a jungle trail that led away from the rushing river, and froze with astonishment at the sight confronting him. A party of twelve warriors, captive in tow, marched along the narrow path. The thundering cataract, now quite near, had drowned out all sounds of his and their approach.

The men were not Papuans; that was clear, nor were they of any race with which Norton was familiar. Their skins were of an olive complexion and tattooed in black geometrical patterns of intricate form; while the warrior’s hair – straight and glossy chestnut in color – was worn in a single braid whose tip was adorned with yellow feathers. Their features approximated those of Europeans, but with the nose slightly broader, the lips slightly fuller. They were naked but for brief loincloths of job’s-tears*, headdresses of crimson feathers whose brightness rivaled that of leaping flames, and necklaces of gleaming baka tusks that completed their apparel.

They pulled up short at the sight of Norton, bunching together and obscuring the prisoner from his view. The lead savage, clad in a loincloth of unguna fur to mark his rank, crouched. The primitive raised his oval bamboo shield of laminar construction; spear poised menacingly and wondered what manner of creature confronted him.

Christ, thought Norton, amazed. White savages. I hope they're not as hostile as they look.

Norton realized the moment was pregnant with immanent danger - one wrong move from him would be his last. Slowly, he lowered his club and raised his hands in what he hoped would be a sign of peace.

Iminu observed the bizarre gesture, which was meaningless to him. He was an arrogant fellow, this savage – the son of Kada, the chief, and therefore a man amongst men. The outlandish stranger appeared to be surrendering. Iminu’s mouth twisted into a vicious sneer at that thought, for among his people only cowards ventured down that benighted path at whose end awaited a brutal death at the hands of contemptuous men. With a wild cry the warrior leapt forward, prepared to kill this weakling who was an affront to his sense of manliness.

With lightning swiftness Norton snatched up his club and deflected the thrusting spear. Its polished obsidian head missed him by an inch. Iminu rammed his shield against the man and sent him staggering back. Again the spear stabbed ferociously. Norton regained his balance, twisted. His foe’s weapon slammed into a banana tree, stuck fast. Norton smashed his club upon the haft, breaking it in two.

The other warriors tensely watched the duel. They saw their leader’s raised shield block Norton’s vicious stroke. With an oath Iminu cast away the ruined spear. He swiftly drew his heavy hardwood mace, swung ferociously. Norton leapt aside, the weapon narrowly missing him. He brought his own club around in a savage arc that struck his foe heavily upon the temple. The chief’s son crashed to the earth and twitched once; then lay frighteningly still.

Utter quietness seized the moment. Norton, a sickly expression on his face gazed upon the corpse, horrified at what he’d had to do. The remaining warriors, frozen with the shocking knowledge that this seeming coward had killed their leader, looked on in total disbelief.

Oh God, thought Norton, wracked by guilt. I never meant to strike so hard … the heat of battle …

The frightful spell was broken. Pandemonium erupted. With bloodcurdling howls the savages bore down upon their enemy. Norton retreated before the blood crazed mob. He backed within the canebrake, desperately hoping its dense mass would hinder the charging foe.

A snarling warrior leapt after him, only to have his accoutrements become entangled in the greenery. Norton, with the terrible realization he had no choice, clubbed the hapless man, crushing his skull and then retreated further; now confident his foes could attack him but singularly. Vile oaths cut the air as his pursuers, hot with rage, abandoned shields and tried to force other paths through the tangled verdure in the hope of surrounding him.

Rapidly, a second savage followed the first. Leaping over his companion's corpse he jabbed brutally with his spear, wielding it like a bayonet. Now it was Norton who was disadvantaged, for in the confines of the pressing cane it was difficult to parry his opponent's rapid thrusts.

The warrior advanced; a savage grin upon his tattooed visage. Norton retreated with desperate haste before the relentless onslaught, his foe's longer weapon keeping him at bay. Several times he came close to tripping as his feet caught in the treacherous growth and the thrusting spear nearly stabbed him. Suddenly, he stumbled free of the constricting cane. Leaping aside, the grim faced man raised his club in preparation to brain the savage when he emerged.

Suddenly, a heavy body, thick with muscle smashed against him from behind. His club went flying as he was driven against the earth. The loamy soil absorbed some of the impact and enabled Norton to continue the desperate struggle with his new assailant. He twisted and drove his elbow against the man. The primitive grunted. His foe’s hold loosened. Norton struck again , rolled free and staggered to his feet.

The savage lurched upright, a livid bruise upon his jaw. Norton threw a punch. His foe ducked, leapt upon him, and as they grappled Norton glimpsed another warrior leaping from the verdure. With an exultant cry the savage charged towards him, glinting spear poised for the killing thrust.

*Footnote: The hard, nearly spherical involucres [a collection or rosette of bracts] that surround the female flower of the grass Coix lacryma-jobi. When ripe, they are used as beads.

Chapter 3: Prisoners of the Talasai

As the spear was thrust at Norton's side a ringing command erupted from the man he wrestled with. Norton tensed, expecting death. But the darting weapon stopped within inches from his ribs, halted by the other's cry. With a mighty heave Norton flung his opponent against the spearman. He sent both crashing to the ground, limbs entangled. But this fleeting victory was quickly crushed as with frightful howls other warriors burst forth from the undergrowth and fell upon him in an avalanche of bodies.

Brutal blows ended Norton's further struggles. His hands were tightly bound behind his back. He was hauled to his feet and surrounded by menacing hard faced savages. Chimba, the warrior whom he had thrown against the other, restrained his fellows with further sharp commands and explained his seeming mercy thus:

“This creature killed the son of Kada. Therefore he must die by the hand of Kada, for our chief would demand nothing less than personal vengeance. Now, bind him to the other captive and let us be on our way least the Masa warriors overtake us.”

Of course this speech was lost to Norton, but ignorant of the language though he was; he realized it was not the balm of mercy that had stayed the warrior’s hands. Thoughts of escape were uppermost in his mind as he was manhandled around the canebrake and back onto the trail. However, weakened from his exertions and the savage beating, he knew he must first regain his strength before making any attempt to escape.

Brutal bastards, thought Norton, fiercely, his earlier compassion having been pummeled out of him. I’ll kill all of these savage curs if I can.

As the party emerged upon the jungle path, concerns for his own safety receded at the confronting sight his startled eyes now gazed upon: A young woman, hands bound behind her back, was gnawing at the rope that secured her ankle to a tree.

At the sight of her enemies she instantly sprang erect, jerked violently upon the cord, disheveled hair flying wildly as she struggled against her bonds. Her large dark eyes were alive with all the desperation of a cornered beast.

Chimba rushed forward and cuffed her violently. The girl fell heavily, legs sprawling wide, her single garment flicking up upon her belly. The savages gathered round, their violent passions aroused by the sight of her naked loins.

The girl closed her legs and looked at her brutal captors with contempt. “Brave indeed are the warriors of the Talasai,” she sneered. “Can it be that they attack defenseless women because they are not man enough to fight other men?”

Her valiant façade was sheer bravado of course, but the girl felt her fate was sealed, and with brave words did seek to assuage her hidden fear and wound her hated enemies.

Chimba laughed derisively at her remark. “You’ll not be so bold when I’m done with you,” he cried, stripping off his loincloth. Then, turning challenging eyes upon his fellows: “Now that Iminu is dead I claim this woman. Does anyone dispute my right?”

The brute’s actions spoke to all more clearly than words what he planned to do, and Norton felt hot rage infusing him with fiery strength - a pulsing tide that swept away all caution, all weariness. Swiftly, he stomped his heel upon the toe of the savage holding him. He broke free of the howling man and viciously kicked Chimba in the head as he sought with callous hands to force his victim’s thighs apart. There was an audible crack, and the girl’s would-be rapist crashed lifeless to the ground.

Instantly, two warriors fell upon Norton like wild beasts. They hurled him to the earth and kicked him remorselessly. Norton withstood the beating in stoic silence, determined to deny his foes the pleasure of seeing him in pain.

“Enough,” cried Tehu, shoving his companions away. “If you kill him Kada will be denied his vengeance, and he’ll punish you instead. Rather, let us vent our rage upon the wench.”

“You can’t,” cried the girl. “The stranger has killed both Iminu and Chimba. I have become his possession by the law of custom, and none may have me unless they now kill him - something you admit you cannot do.” Then, taking full advantage of her immunity, she laughed in their faces with sardonic delight.

Of course the girl wasn’t eager to be possessed by any man, least of all by Norton. Rather, she merely sought to take advantage of his unexpected intervention to escape a hellish fate, if but for a little while.

The warriors looked upon her. Their countenances were ugly with hate and lust. They wanted to act but knew they were unable; for the savage’s customs are often more binding than the laws of civilized men.

“By the spirits of the sky, and the earth,” cried Tehu, shaking with impotent rage. “The stranger has killed three of our tribe, our prisoner mocks us and there is nothing we can do. By the spirits, I pray Kada devises a horrid end for both of you.”

At a sharp command from Tehu both prisoners were hauled to their feet. Their ankles were bound together with the rope that had restrained the girl, and then the captives were forced to resume the march towards their fatal destiny. As for the corpses of the fallen, they were left where they lay for such was the unspoken law of this savage band.

As Norton walked painfully beside the girl, the most recent beating having added to his bruises, he observed her carefully, partially out of curiosity and partially in the hope their mutual plight might make them allies.

The girl was of the same race as the other men, but her clothing suggested she was from a different tribe: A single garment – a triangular pubic shield, ornately carved – hung between her shapely thighs from a string slung low about her hips. Her full breasts, still firm with youth, were partially concealed by many necklaces of job’s-tears that completed her dress. The girl’s hair, a rich chestnut hue that framed her lovely face, had been arranged in an elaborate coiffure. But now in disarray, it spilt in a dark cascade to her waist. Norton could not help but feel it added a piquant air to her haughty bearing.

A Junoesque beauty of the stone age, thought the man; then checked his straying mind. Christ, I’m a fool. I’m a prisoner of these savages who probably plan to kill me in some slow and fiendish way, and I’m ogling a pretty girl who is clearly ignoring me. Instead, I should be of thinking of escape.

Shaking his head at his own folly, Norton began concentrating on his surroundings, alert for any advantage, no matter how small, that might arise. As he walked along, the girl continued to ignore his presence as if he were but an insect, so Norton began listening to his captors who traded ribald jests with one another, their previous misfortunes seemingly forgotten.

There was something tantalizingly recognizable about the language - the words seemed strangely familiar, yet different, and his brow knitted in concentration as he thought. Then realization struck him – their tongue was akin to that of the natives of the Palmer River, but the words contracted, the accent subtly different. Before, their voices had been too strident with anger for him to make the connection, but now they spoke more calmly the similarity was clear to him.

Norton spoke the Palmer River dialect fluently, thanks to his mixed heritage, and knew that “seno” meant peace or friend in his mother’s tongue. If his theory were correct, then he reasoned that “sen” would mean the same in the contracted version these people seemed to speak.

Realizing he desperately needed an ally, he turned to the girl and began whispering: “Sen, sen, sen,” with the hope he could establish friendliness.

The girl was surprised at his speech because in this savage land all strangers were enemies to one another, with “sen” only being applied to members of one’s tribe. She regarded him thoughtfully, her curiosity aroused. The tattoos of manhood were not upon him, although he was clearly no beardless youth.

There were similarities in their features, though his skin and hair was darker than her own, and mostly hidden by the strangest clothes she had ever seen. Why he had attacked Chimba when the savage had sought to rape her she couldn’t fathom – they were not of the same tribe, so why should he care, unless he meant to have her for himself.

“If you try and touch me,” she said, warningly. “I’ll rip out your throat with my teeth if need be.”

Norton was shocked by the violence of her response, which he managed to understand correctly. Discouraging though it was, he continued in his efforts at communication; the girl eventually responding when she decided he must be a harmless madman exiled from some distant tribe.

Their conversation did not go unnoticed, and one warrior, a huge brute of a fellow, came over to investigate. “So, He growled, his ugly visage darkening as he seized her breasts. “You prefer the company of this thing, do you?”

Instantly, the girl rammed a knee into her molester’s groin. The warrior collapsed, his agonized cry alerting the others to his plight. An ugly scene ensued - the prisoners, menaced by a ring of spears poised for brutal thrusts, and the hard faced warriors muttering ominously.

Tehu waded in. Wielding his spear like a fail he belted his companion’s backs. “Uta, you fool,” he spat. “You’ve broken custom by touching her, and have only yourself to blame. Now, all of you move on.”

Quite a woman, thought Norton as they resumed the march. As they walked, the savages occasionally glared at them with venomous eyes, but to the man’s relief, heaped no further violence or indignities upon the girl.

By the time the party had emerged upon the grassland from the forest, Norton had the basic facts of his companion’s story: (1) Her name was Neami, daughter of Obuda, chief the Masa, a forest dwelling tribe (2) That a Talasai raiding party had attacked her village and had been driven off, but not before capturing her. (3) That a state of perpetual warfare existed between the tribes, with every hand being raised in bloody hatred against the other. (4) That she thought him a complete idiot for asking questions that even children knew.

Vexed by her opinion of him, Norton shifted his attention to the plain, and saw it stretching out before them - a swaying sea of chest high grass, the voice of the wind giving it gentle sighs as it undulated in rippling waves. Setting out upon the prairie, they progressed across its vast expanse, and were within a short distance of the mighty river that cleaved the land when the grass before them stirred violently with the rapid passage of a heavy body.

The beast trotted into view, looking something like a cross between wild boar and armadillo. Its wicked tusks, cruel as scythes, gleamed in the tropic sun. Eyes, small and fiery, flamed with vicious rage at the sight of them. The baka exploded into charge, scattering the warriors with its ferocious onslaught. One savage was felled by the beast; ripped open by its goring tusks.

Norton and the girl tried to flee, but in their haste they became entangled in their bonds and fell. The man saw the beast turn. It careered towards them in a savage rush; it’s pounding feet sending up clouds of dust. He knew with terrible certainty there was no time to evade its brutal charge.

Chapter 4: Towards a Fate Unknown

As the baka, a living engine of destruction bore down upon the pair Norton saw their only chance - a spear dropped by one fleeing warrior had fallen near to him. Rolling towards the weapon, he sought to grasp it, to lever it up behind his back and twist the point towards the charging beast, but he was hindered in his efforts by the rope that bound his wrists.

Neami, her heart pounding like a jungle drum, eyes wide with fear, watched the looming beast and glimpsed Norton fumble with the weapon. The creature was almost upon them when the man’s numb fingers secured a hold upon the shaft. She shrank against the earth as Norton levered up the spear and braced its butt against the sward.

Unable to stop or swerve in time, the frightful creature hurled itself upon the point. Neami screamed as the spear tore into the baka’s unarmored throat. The weapon’s haft bent dangerously under the savage impact of its heavy body. Blood spurted, drenching them in crimson gore and the corpse fell in a swirl of choking dust at their very feet.

“No warrior of my people could have made a better kill,” said Neami with undisguised admiration and relief, thinking that perhaps Norton wasn’t such a fool after all. “See how these Talasai worms fled before the beast.”

Norton felt a warm rush of pleasure at her words, but it was quickly dampened by their enemy’s approach.

“Boast while you can,” snarled Tehu, as he sprinted to them and ripped the spear from Norton’s grasp. “When you’re put to the torture we’ll see how brave you really are.”

Neami went quiet at that remark as the remaining warriors emerged from the tall grass with sheepish grins, which quickly vanished when they gazed upon their companion’s gutted corpse. Once again the prisoners were hauled erect and forced at spear point along the narrow trail. Both marched along in sober silence as they contemplated the unknown fate that awaited them, each plagued by darkest fear.

I’ve got to win our freedom, thought Norton, with a growing sense of desperation. But how can I save the girl and myself? He wracked his brains, but for the moment could find no answer to their frightful predicament.

They entered the strand of trees that graced the river bank, and soon found themselves by its streaming waters where four dugout canoes had been concealed within the undergrowth. The warriors, now reduced in number, pushed only two upon the river. The party boarded and set out into the gently flowing current, and the powerful strokes of the muscular paddlers soon had each craft racing towards the further shore which was several miles away.

As the canoes sped across the breadth of the mighty river, Norton saw signs of increasing nervousness among his captors. Their eyes constantly scanned the surface as if looking for some lurker in the depths, hidden beneath the deceptive calm of the sparkling waters.

They were about mid-point when the beast manifested in all its frightfulness. One of the paddlers gave a wild shout and pointed at something ahead of them. The creature, like a living torpedo, rushed towards the craft the captives occupied.

Norton could see it now, a few feet beneath the surface. The thing resembled a giant squid, but not the soft bodied creatures with which he was familiar. This fearsome beast was at least fifteen feet from pointed head to tentacle tip, and completely armored in tough scales of olive green.

Neami caught sight of it. Her pretty face looked grim. “It's a river-devil," she said to Norton. "But at least it may give us a cleaner death than the fiends who have us now."

The canoes diverged. The warriors in Norton’s craft paddled furiously for the safety of the looming shore. The primitives were streaked with sweat and their countenances were marked by naked fear. In a surge of speed the creature gained upon them and seized their vessel in its many tentacles. One scaly limb whipped up. The horrid thing wrapped about a savage's neck. The crackle of an electric discharge sounded. The victim screamed, convulsed. His obsidian knife fell from his waistband as he died.

Neami managed to grab the blade. Her actions went unnoticed by the warriors now fighting for their lives. The savages, wide eyed and shouting wildly, fended off the river-devil's tentacles with their paddles, for the beast's attack had been so swift they had no time to grasp their weapons.

"Quickly," whispered the girl. "Turn so I can cut your bonds. If we’re free we have a fighting chance."

Norton swiveled and in an instant the girl’s keen blade severed the constricting rope. Grabbing the knife he quickly freed Neami just as more scaly limbs swarmed aboard their craft and seized the remaining warriors in an electrified embrace.

Snatching up a spear, Neami savagely thrust it into the suckers of the horrid tentacle groping for her. "Aim as I aim," cried the girl. "Its limbs are vulnerable only from the underside."

Norton and the girl knelt back-to-back, frantically jabbing the creature's slithering members, knowing that the slightest touch from those scaly limbs would bring instant death.

"It's trying to capsize us," yelled the man as the creature began to rock their dugout with tremendous force. Suddenly, the craft tilted and rolled completely over, spilling its hapless occupants, both living and dead, upon the river’s coursing bosom.

Norton dived beneath the surface, spear still clutched within his hand. He glimpsed the river-devil's body. One huge cold eye glared at him menacingly. He thrust violently with his weapon. The spear sunk deeply into the bulbous eye before the thing could release another deadly charge.

An explosion of inky fluid enveloped Norton in its blinding veils as the creature, severely wounded, fled. Fighting clear of the turgid darkness, he swam towards the light. Bursting through the surface he saw Neami treading water. He gasped in shock. The girl had both hands upon the spear and was about to plunge its point into her heart.

Lunging forward he caught her arms and wrestled the weapon from her. Neami turned upon him savagely. "You fool," she cried. "You've denied me a death that would have been clean and swift."

“Now is our chance to escape,” he gasped, shocked by her angry reaction. The girl simply shook her head and pointed. Norton turned and saw the surviving dugout had come about. It was now mere feet away. Both dived beneath the water. Their cursing foes hurled themselves from the craft in swift pursuit.

Norton felt a hand clamp upon his ankle. He kicked back viciously only to have his leg caught by another foe. He struggled wildly. Bubbles erupted in an obscuring cloud. Dim shapes came at him with the swiftness of a shark. A knife was pressed against his throat to still his struggles and his captors hauled him to the surface. He burst above the water, coughing and spluttering. To his dismay he saw that Neami had also been recaptured.

“You are a curse upon us,” cried Tehu as his men hauled both aboard and bound them once again. Then, to his fellows: “To the shore with all haste, least some other misfortune befalls us.”

The men, fearful that other river-devils might be near, bent their backs to the task, and in record time reached the further side. Here they disembarked, dragged the dugouts ashore, and made their way to a high hill at whose base were extensive native gardens in which grew crops of many kinds. Talasai women tended the cultivated land, with the older children helping them, while groups of other warriors stood here and there on guard.

Unlike Neami the Talasai women were completely naked, save for strings of painted clay beads about their necks, wrists and waists, the number of which denoted their social status, which was determined by the quantity of domesticated baka their fathers or husbands owned.

As the party moved along the path that wound its way through the gardens and up the hill, some called out greetings to the returning warriors, while others inquired as to the slain. Most though were intent on showering abuse upon the captives, and Norton was hard pressed to curb his anger at the vile things the women said their men folk would do to Neami.

To Norton’s admiration the girl ignored these base remarks with silent contempt. He tried to engage her in conversation, but she refused to acknowledge his presence, still furious that his foiling of her suicide had condemned her to a far worse fate.

Norton sighed, thinking that perhaps in the light of what the women had said he should have let her kill herself. But he quickly pushed aside this dark idea. To hell with that came his reviling thought I’ll give up hope for both of us only when we’re dead.

Seeking some avenue of escape Norton looked about, and his trained eye could not help but notice the plants in the surrounding fields. He quickly saw there was no sign of taro, the staple food of most Papuans, in evidence. Instead the principle crop seemed to be a kind of coarse cucurbitaceous plant, possibly related to the pumpkin, but with the fruits being more spherical in form, the skin pebbly in texture and of a purple hue.

Too many guards; no chance of escape, thought Norton, glumly, as they left the gardens and ascended the grassy hill by a twisting path to approach the summit, which the man saw was heavily fortified as they drew near. A deep ditch surrounded the hilltop. The earth from this excavation had been thrown up to form a rampart whose outer slope continued that of the ditch. It thus formed a glacis of sufficient steepness to blunt any rushed assault, and leave the exhausted enemy at the defender’s mercy.

A barbican gave egress to the stronghold. It took the form of a zigzagging series of parallel ramparts and ditches that jutted out from the main defenses, with a narrow path winding through it. Norton saw that the defenders on the ramparts could easily rain down withering crossfire from above.

The party made their way through the barbican, entered the village compound, and gazed upon the single building that dominated the walled enclosure. It was an impressive longhouse that Norton estimated to be one hundred and ninety feet in length, thirty in width and forty high at mid point, with each end of the building curving up like a giant horn to a height of about eighty feet.

Despite the cruelty of their captors, Norton could not help admiring their craftsmanship, for although he was familiar with the native architecture of his own dimension; he had never seen a longhouse as impressive and so well defended as the one whose shadowed interior they now passed within, for it was clearly large enough to shelter the entire village population of five hundred souls.

Down the central aisle they walked; the darkness of the thatched roof over-arched them, and they were hemmed in further by woven bamboo walls through which needles of sunlight lanced to illuminate the barbaric scene.

Grotesque masks, painted in red and white designs, along with shields, spears and clubs were mounted on the walls; while from the ceiling's beams hung the grisly trophies of many battles – the shrunken heads of men. Upon the floor of hard packed earth were colorful sleeping mats of the tribe, unoccupied but for a kneeling woman who was performing a sexual act upon a man.

Norton was rather shocked by this uninhibited display, but neither Neami nor their captors, nor the couple so engrossed, seemed to think it worthy of remark, and it was their nonchalance more than anything else that forced upon his awareness just how remote he was from the world he knew. It was a depressing thought indeed.

Again, he looked at his companion and caught her glancing at him. Neami gave Norton a level stare, then with a haughty toss of her head, she turned her face away. The Earthman couldn’t help but smile despite their grim situation: Here they were, facing a horrid end, and she was acting like a snooty child. He sobered though at the thought of death, and again his mind became a jumble of futile plans.

Continuing onwards they eventually arrived at the building’s furthest end where, upon an ornately carved timber dais stood Kada in consultation with other elders of his tribe. The warriors approached, forced the prisoners to their knees in the presence of the chief, and then bowed low to this impressive worthy.

The chief, a powerfully built man in his early forties, his visage made demonic by harsh tattoos, looked them over, mild annoyance showing at this unexpected interruption. This then changed to curiosity when his dark eyes alighted upon Norton and the girl.

Kada nodded at Tehu. “Speak.” It was a single crisp command.

Tehu, in a flowery style befitting a Roman orator, outlined the many misfortunes that had befallen them since capturing Norton and the girl, and with grand dramatic style concluded thus his speech: “Behold the slayer of your son, oh chief,” cried he, thrusting a condemning finger at Norton with malevolent flare.

Neami tensed and her mind became a whirl of thoughts – to help Norton, or not to help. This man had a weird effect upon her – intriguing and annoying in his strangeness. But before she could speak or act Kada, whose anger had been steadily mounting as the woeful tale progressed, now exploded with violent rage. The elders scattered like frightened mice as with knife drawn he leapt from the dais to the ground, and with a wild cry hurled himself upon the killer of his son.

Chapter 5: Ordeal of the Posts

As Kada lunged at Norton, the Earthman rolled upon his back and drew his knees to his chest. He then lashed out with both feet and struck his assailant in the stomach. The chief was hurled backward and to the ground, the blade flying from his hand.

Cries of outrage knifed the air. Tehu and another warrior leapt forward, spears raised in preparation for the savage kill. Neami, spurred to action by emotions she did not fully understand, threw herself upon the pair.

"Challenge the chief. It’s you only hope," cried the girl as her savage lunge knocked both warriors to the ground.

"I challenge Kada," yelled Norton as he struggled to his feet.

"You've escaped your fate for now," gasped Kada, rising painfully, one hand upon his belly. "Indeed, I shall look forward to killing you." Then, turning to Tehu who had brutally thrown off the girl’s pinning form: "Remove the prisoners and prepare them for the Ordeal of the Posts.

**********

Moonlight illuminated the savage throng Norton gazed down upon. A light breeze stirred his hair and cooled his naked skin, for the last vestments of civilization had been stripped away, and replaced by the barbaric apparel his captors wore. His thoughts were as wild as any savage as he stood upon the post – a pillar of carved skulls that was one foot in width and ten height. It was one of many forming a square thirty feet to a side, each post being separated from its neighbor by about a yard.

The man balanced carefully upon his perch, knowing that below in the shadows were numerous sharpened bamboo stakes, and a painful death should he fall upon their needle points. Norton’s hand tightened upon his spear as he shifted his gaze to Kada, who stood upon the square’s opposing side. He knew he’d have to kill the savage chieftain, and quickly if he was to save the girl.

Neami had been tied most painfully upon a post just behind the chieftain. Its capital pressed into her back, and her arms and legs had been drawn downwards and roped to pegs protruding from it. Above her arching belly hung a heavy spear secured by rope to the crossbeam of a taller column, and against the rope was a torch that when lit would slowly burn through the cable, and release the spear which would impale her with its deadly point.

Neami watched in silent fear as a warrior climbed the ladder next to her and ignited the rope's torch with his own – the signal for the commencement of this barbaric spectacle. Turning her head she saw Kada leap forward, a wild cry upon his lips. He landed with cat-like grace upon another post.

Again, the girl's gaze was drawn to the horrid spear that hung above her naked from. She closed her eyes against the terrible sight of its gently swaying length, the glistening obsidian point and the slowly burning rope.

Never before had she felt so helpless in the face of danger – even if Norton won, other tribesmen would challenge him until he was defeated. A whimpering cry bubbled up within her throat, and she bit her lip to bar its betraying escape; for it would never do to show fear before her enemies.

Norton advanced towards his leaping foe with greater caution, knowing the slightest misstep on his part would end all hope, but also knowing that speed was of the essence.

I haven't a chance, he thought as he watched the chief advance with frightening ease. Kada's experience will gain him an easy victory unless I think of something fast.

The two combatants were several posts away when inspiration gifted Norton with a desperate plan. As the wild chieftain leapt towards him, spear poised for a killing thrust, Norton tore the loincloth from about his waist and cast it into Kada's eyes. Then he swiftly evaded his foe’s thrust with a diagonal leap to another pillar.

The strings of beads that comprised the garment struck his opponent across the eyes. Kada gasped in pain and fear – the distraction had caused him to miss the post he had meant to land upon. The chieftain fell with a despairing cry, and a final sickening scream rent the air as he was impaled upon the stakes below.

Norton had leapt forward the moment his adversary began to fall – a mad race to rescue Neami. The throng’s wild cry beat in savage waves upon his ears as the natives, aflame with murderous wrath at their chief’s demise, surged towards him in a raging human flood.

Neami opened her eyes at this chorus of howling death. She gasped in horror at the scene, and again when she saw the rope had been burned to but a slender thread. She screamed as the strand snapped and the spear plunged down upon her.

Norton saw the spear commence its fatal fall. With reckless desperation he hurled his body forward, weapon swinging in a wild arc. It knocked aside the plunging spear as he fell across the girl’s body and slid towards the sharpened stakes below.

A desperate clawing grasp caught Neami’s waist. She screamed in agony as her strained limbs bore his weight, and saved him from tumbling upon the frightful points as he swung for one breathless moment above these teeth of Death. Norton’s eyes fell upon the rabid crowd, now mere yards away. Tehu was in the lead, spear ready for a cast that couldn’t miss at such close range, and he knew there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly, Tehu stumbled. He fell upon his face. An arrow protruded from his back. And then a rain of deadly shafts commenced to fall upon the charging throng. Chaos exploded – shouts of consternation, screams of the wounded, and the savage war cries of the attacking hoard grated across the night.

Upon the ramparts gathered the massing foe in dark silhouette against the shining moon – the savage warriors of an enemy hoard who had stealthily overcome sentries distracted by their tribe’s barbarous ceremony. Norton thought it all a scene of nightmare – the attackers, made grotesque by weird headdress and shadow, pranced in devilish delight as they wrecked bloody carnage upon those below; while the victims of their whistling arrows ran about in wild confusion and fell pierced through with deadly shafts.

Knowing there wasn’t a moment to lose; Norton tore his eyes from the horrific scene. He swung his feet upon the ladder of the post to which Neami was bound, and began to cut her free with the keen edge of the spear’s obsidian point.

“Kill me swiftly,” begged the pain-wracked girl as he eased her trembling form upon the ladder. Norton cursed at her request and at the hissing arrow that hastened their swift descent to the concealing shadows.

Neami sagged against Norton the instant her foot touched the ground. Deep concern for her arose within the man, for he could see she was in agony from being bent in a torturous posture upon the post.

“Leave me.’ She gasped again. “I’ll slow you down. But slay me before you go. I have no desire for those beasts to torture me.”

Norton looked upon the girl. He became aware of the nude press of her shapely body against his own and keenly felt the vibrancy of her youthful form. Could he kill this jungle flower and extinguish forever her bright beauty? His soul rebelled at such a horrid thought. In savage denial Norton pulled Neami to him and kissed her full upon the lips.

“Don’t give up so easily,” was his angry command as he slung the startled girl across his shoulder. Without another word he began to cautiously weave his way through the stakes and towards the compound’s further end, which seemed free of deadly strife.

Arriving at his goal, Norton looked carefully about before emerging from the dense shadows of the surrounding posts. Only a few scattered bodies lay strewn upon the ground, for the Talasai, having rallied at the southern quarter of their village, were now fully engaged in a savage counterattack upon their foes, the wild sounds of the fray bearing witness to its violent intensity.

“The way is clear,” whispered Norton as he gently set Neami upon her feet. “Can you run the distance?”

“I can try,” replied the girl, a puzzled expression on her face. “But why are you saving me, why did you press your lips to mine?”

“Norton grinned, his teeth showing whitely in the dark. Although facing death, he had never felt more alive, as if he were drunk on some strange wine. “No time for explanations,” was his quick reply as he took her arm. “Let’s run while we can.”

Both sprinted for the rampart. Norton’s arm was about his fair companion’s waist to steady her. The girl’s breath came in ragged gasps as she forced her tortured body onwards, the man half carrying, half dragging her along.

Both ascended the ramp leading to the parapet of the mighty bulwark and quickly gained its sloping height. The couple paused for breath and Norton, looking back, saw that fire arrows had been launched against the longhouse. Several burning shafts struck the roof, and the thatch burst instantly into roaring flame, which was fanned by the rising wind to a conflagration whose lurid light revealed the bloody melee of the raging battle.

“Quickly,” gasped the man. “Over the parapet before they see us in this light.”

Norton helped the girl over the wall and, hand in hand, both made their way cautiously down the treacherous declivity of the outer defenses to the deep shadow cloaked ditch at its base. Suddenly, ominous clouds blotted out the moon as they were driven before the mounting storm. The night became darker still.

Gaining the ditch's abysm of shadow, they were on the verge of crawling up its sloping sides when a wild cry rang out. Norton turned, and went cold at the sight confronting him. For a brief moment a rent in the churning clouds had opened, and bright moonlight had betrayed them to a group of warriors circling to this quarter of the ramparts. The brutal cries of perhaps twenty savages split the night as, with further shouts, they charged down upon the helpless pair.

Chapter 6: River of Peril

Norton and the girl struggled up the steep acclivity of the ditch as the savages bore down upon them in a wild rush. The man gained its edge and with a mighty heave hauled Neami into the biting chill of the risen wind. The girl collapsed, muscles quivering from her exertions. Norton could see that she was spent and could go no further – weakened from her previous ordeal and now this headlong flight.

I’ll have to carry her, he thought as lightening lanced the sky and shook heaven with its thunder. But her weight will slow me down. There’s no way I can outrun that savage hoard.

Refusing to abandon Neami, Norton tore a stone from the soil and grimly stood in the buffeting wind which was now rising to a howling gale. Another jagged flare of lightening licked the leaden sky. Its harsh light disclosed the pursuing hoard now scrambling up the trench's sloping wall.

Norton tensed. He was ready to receive the foe, but knew he didn't stand a chance. Then the tempest was upon them in all its awesome fury. Blinding rain pelted down from the churning heavens with stinging force – a wall of water that advanced like a marching cataract across the land, shrouding the earth in its blinding wind driven torrent.

Norton saw their only chance. Quickly, he gathered the shivering girl in his arms. Hope burnt bright within him that they could now elude their enemies in the utter darkness of the storm wracked night. Setting off at a tangent, he began to descend the hill as rapidly as he dared. The gale tore at him with claws of wind and the ground was treacherous with swirling streams of water. He was forced to advance with utmost caution, completely blinded by the driving rain and the stygian blackness that had descended upon all creation.

A hammer of wind struck Norton. He slipped; fell. Neami moaned softly with fear as both struck the sodden earth. Above them Nature raged in elemental fury. Lightning sundered the heavens with actinic light in a mighty flare that illuminated the country for miles around, while waves of deafening thunder broke upon the shore of distant mountains. They were alone on the tortured landscape, the pursuing warriors no doubt having sought shelter from the sky-spirit’s malignant fury.

Norton helped the trembling girl to her feet. She clung to him in superstitious dread of the living elements that seemed to her supernatural beings of malefic force. Onward they fled, through the darkness of the furious night towards what end none might say.

**********

Morning found Norton and the girl by the swollen river whose turgid waters were thick with fallen trees, and other jungle debris swept down from the heights by the violent storm of the previous night.

The pair had spent the hours of darkness huddled in shivering misery beneath a broad leaved bush, a paltry shelter from the roaring tempest that raged in insensate fury across heaven’s breadth throughout the night. But with the rising sun so rose their spirits, for the morning light disclosed the freshness of the world, now in calm repose beneath a cloudless azure sky.

Their luck had changed, or so they thought, for Neami, whose knowledge of bush craft was excellent, had managed to find edible nuts and berries upon which they sated their gnawing hunger. The canoes she also found, for they had been beached above the highest level of the rising flood.

“The river is too treacherous for a crossing at the moment,” observed the girl as she pointed to the swirling debris upon its surging bosom. “We can carry one canoe further downstream, and lie concealed until the waters clam.”

Norton, who had been scanning the landscape with sharp eyes whilst listening to her, suddenly cursed and pointed at distant figures jogging in their direction from beyond the trees - it was the war party of last night.

“We’ll have to risk a crossing, and hope the raging current bars them from pursuit.”

“Quickly, cried Neami. “We can push one canoe into the river and let it be swept away, then board the other and strike out for the further shore. That should thwart their plans.”

Both struggled with the heavy craft and thrust it into the rushing current. A shout rang out. The advancing warriors, having spotted them through the trees, increased their speed to a wild dash. Another hate tinged cry spurred them to greater effort as they wrestled with the second vessel. With a mighty effort they launched it upon the turgid waters, which nearly tore it from their grasp as they boarded in desperate haste.

Instantly, the pair bent backs to paddles and frantically propelled their craft from the bank as the warriors quickly closed the distance. Neami yelled a warning; both ducked low and arrows whistled overhead where their bodies had been but seconds ago.

The enemy howled their frustration and rage as the racing current caught the dugout and swept the vessel downstream and out of range. They pursued on foot for a while, then realized the futility of the chase, and with fiery curses vent their anger on the fleeing couple.

Neami replied with equal heat to their profanity, and with a sense of exultation gestured rudely as she laughed at the dwindling warriors who could do nothing more than shake their fists in impotent rage.

“We’re safe enough for now,” said the girl as she and Norton resumed their paddling. “But we must beware floating logs as we angle towards the further shore, least one strike our craft and send it to the bottom.”

The roiling waters swept them onwards as they struggled in the current’s grip. They gained mid-river as the torrent curved about low hills crowned with forest. Suddenly, two large islands came into sight as they rounded one sweeping bend. Side by side they were, splitting the rushing flood in three channels, and towards the middle one they sped.

Norton gasped in alarm. The central channel was choked with snags over which the turbulent water spurted up in tattered rags of spray. “Quickly,” cried Neami who saw the danger, too. “Make for the right hand isle, or we’ll be wrecked upon the logs.”

Both fought frantically to change their course, but too late. The racing water bore them within the treacherous channel. It swept them towards the tangled snags that thrust like a hedge of spears at the hurtling craft. They hit – a jarring impact that threw them down.

The dugout rode up upon the matted debris and water flooded its stern into which the couple slid. Norton swore in livid fear – another log as thick as he was tall had been swept towards the channel, and in but moments would be bearing down upon them like a mighty battering ram.

Grabbing the frightened girl he hauled her from the stricken dugout and into the muddy torrent whose pressure forced both against the snags that threatened to impale them.

“Cling to me,” cried Norton, his voice nearly drowned in the river’s roar as he fought to keep both their heads above the flood. “I’ll use the snags as handholds and drag us towards the shore.”

“Hurry,” yelled Neami, as she wrapped her arms about his waist. “The current bears the tree ever nearer.”

Norton fought the river’s grip, using hands and feet to push against the broken vegetation – an endless nightmare struggle as he crawled towards the island’s shore, now so near as was the rushing log. With a mighty effort his clawing hands gained the sodden earth just as the log struck the dugout thunderously, and then swung sideways upon them like a giant’s baseball bat.

Neami screamed. Her eyes went wide at the frightening sight of impending death. In a surge of panic Norton jerked her clear of the hurtling tree. Both tumbled to the ground, and the whipping log missed them by a foot as it smashed in a spray of mud against the sodden earth.

For a moment Norton lay there, breathing hard. Then he assisted Neami to her feet. She smiled at him gratefully as he helped her struggle up the shore to the island’s fringe of trees, and eased her down upon its restful sward.

Well, thought Norton as he stretched out upon the grass in blessed rest. That’s one more danger overcome. But only God knows what will happen next.

What next, indeed? Before, Norton had only given thought to escape his captors and, if possible, bear away the girl to safety. Now that he was free his thoughts again returned to home. But could he simply leave Neami? Clearly not – she was still far from her village, and in this land of savagery a lone woman was prey to men more dangerous than wild beasts.

I’ll have to escort Neami to within sight of her village at the very least, he thought. Then, with a clear conscious I can leave her and try to make my own way home.

Leave the girl? Pangs of regret stabbed Norton at that thought, and he started at the sudden revelation of his feelings. He was attracted to her, yes, but was it more than just desire? Could he be falling in love with her? But that was absurd. They were separated by ten thousand years of culture, for she was of the Stone Age, and he a twenty-first century man.

Still, his parents had bridged that gulf successfully. But they were of the same world, whereas she was not. He couldn’t stay here – he was an accidental adventurer, and this land was too savage for his civilized tastes. Could she come with him? Would the black gems return them to Earth, or cast them on some airless world – the Moon, perhaps?

He turned his head and looked at Neami, wondering. She lay sprawled upon her back next to him, seizing the moment to rest. Her eyes were closed in seeming slumber. Her lips were slightly parted, and her hair fanned out behind her like a peacock’s tail over which the sun played in glorious splendor. Her generous breasts rose and fell with steady breath. A green fly settled upon one and began to crawl across the dark aureole of her nipple.

Unthinkingly, Norton gently brushed it off. His fingers accidentally touched Neami. The effect of the unexpected contact was startling to the girl. It was if some strange power had flowed from Norton’s hand, awakening latent emotions within her that she had never known before – feelings both puzzling and disturbing.

She turned her head towards him. A startled expression was upon her face. She wanted to speak, but didn’t know what to say. Certainly, they had touched before – when he had pressed his lips to hers, and also when they had huddled together, arms wrapped about each other for mutual warmth during the raging storm. All those moments, though, had been overshadowed by Death’s disturbing presence. But for the moment they were alone, and free from this dark voyeur. It was this that enabled Norton’s innocent touch to rouse her slumbering desire.

Norton returned her gaze expectantly. He realized his touch had affected her, but was unaware she was ignorant of the finer sentiments between men and women, for in this savage land of constant warfare, warriors found mates by raiding other tribes and carrying off their victims to a brutal fate.

Neami had never been resigned to the cruel customs imposed upon her sex, feeling that there must be a better way, but not knowing what it was. Enforced companionship with Norton, though, had shown her a man could be strong and brave, but gentle also. Little wonder then, that this seeming contradiction was strange and confusing to her.

Given time perhaps the girl could have gained an understanding of her feelings, but cruel fate, as it often does, chose to play its wicked hand: Her eyes widened in fear at the sudden sight she now beheld - a sight so terrible it stilled any words she may have uttered.

Chapter 7: In the Hands of Enemies

Norton followed Neami’s terrified gaze, and he, too, was gripped by fear when he saw the creature that waded from the turgid water to the shore. The beast’s body, ten feet in length and five at the shoulder, was similar to that of a bear, but with a head more frog-like than anything else. Its skin was hairless and warty, with a slimy olive sheen characteristic of all amphibians. The thing’s jaws split into a gaping yawn that disclosed murderous two-foot tusks as it slowly plodded in their direction.

Neami clasped Norton’s arm. “It’s a namba,” she whispered, tensely. “Don’t move. Its vision is poor, it may not see us.”

“A meat eater?” queried Norton, softly.

“Plants are its only food, but it is very dangerous and easily provoked. If it sees us, run for the trees.”

The wind shifted. The namba halted, head raised and nostrils flaring - the treacherous breeze had betrayed the couple’s presence with their wafted scent. The ugly head swayed from side to side as its black eyes sought the source of the hated man-odor. Rage rumbled in its throat when its dark orbs locked upon the couple. With a mighty roar the beast, despite its ponderous bulk, exploded into rapid charge.

Leaping to their feet, Norton and the girl dashed madly for a nearby thicket. The pursuing namba was hot upon their heels. Its thunderous tread spurred them to greater haste. Both threw themselves within the tangled growth. Their enraged nemesis collided heavily with two closely set trees they had agilely slipped between.

The beast backed away, bellowed madly in rage and pain and then began to force a different path through the wall of greenery. Like a living battering ram it thrust its massive bulk through the undergrowth, slowly but surely gaining upon the fleeing pair as they retreated further; only to be halted by a mass of bamboo neither could penetrate.

“We’ll have to stand and fight,” cried Norton as he broke two slender lengths of cane and handed one to Neami. “Aim for its eyes when it comes upon us.”

Both waited tensely, their gaze fixed upon the undergrowth before them, which now shook violently with the passage of the creature’s bulky body. Suddenly, its nightmarish head burst through into horrid sight, its gaping jaws venting a wrathful cry.

With lightning speed man and woman leapt forward simultaneously. The namba roared in agony. Aqueous humor spurted sickeningly as the bamboo lances pierced each bulging eye. The creature, now completely blind, surged forward in a frantic effort to escape. Its hurtling form knocked Norton to the ground as it tore madly past. The stricken beast collided with the canebrake. The impact drove Neami’s lance, which still protruded from its ruined eye deep within its brain. It collapsed upon the earth – a brutal end that befitted its bellicose nature.

Neami ran to Norton’s side as he struggled to rise. “Just a few bruises. Luckily it was a glancing blow,” he said, grinning weakly at the girl as she helped him stand. Then, with a shuddering look at the fallen beast: “We'd best make some better weapons before moving on.”

**********

Mid afternoon found Norton and the girl within sight of her home, the pair having completed the perilous river crossing using one log as a makeshift canoe. They were about a mile from the raging cataract where Norton had first entered this strange world, and here sharply soaring limestone ridges cloaked in verdure of velvet green, buttressed the massive mountain with fantastic ruggedness. Running up either side of its broad summit, they ended in the center against a cliff-like face, which seemed hunched down between the shouldering ridges like the seamed visage of some primordial Atlas.

Norton gazed upon the Masa village and marveled at the great labor that had gone into its construction, for it was a lofty dwelling place built high upon a huge shelf of rock, naturally terraced. Indeed, it was a primitive citadel that nestled beneath the beetling cliff, and overlooked the bountiful gardens at the foot of the frowning escarpment.

The village consisted of two hundred cubical buildings, many of which abutted one another, thus forming a maze of alleys and courtyards. Each home was constructed of limestone rocks quarried with granite hammers from the cliffs, then mortared and rendered with a blend of burnt limestone and clay, which tinted the structures with a pleasing terracotta hue. All in all, Norton thought the whole a striking scene – barbarism set against the backdrop of a savage wilderness.

Norton turned his eyes to the girl who squatted next to him. Both were hidden by thick ferns at the garden’s edge, and were now dressed in kilts of tapa* cloth Neami had made. Norton's companion, a listless expression upon her face, watched the women of her tribe weed the crops. The girl had been in a pensive mood since Norton told her he would escort her home before departing for his own land, and he was at a loss to explain her lack of enthusiasm, thinking she would be overjoyed to at last reach the safety of her tribe.

The thought of leaving Neami stabbed Norton with pangs of poignant regret, but he kept his feelings to himself, for she had, from the outset of their meeting, shown him nothing more than haughty contempt that slowly changed to what seemed grudging tolerance, no doubt because he had proven useful by saving her from numerous horrid ends.

Norton, of course, was wrong in this regard. Neami was not eager to see him leave; quite the contrary, and she puzzled over why she should feel this way. That she remained silent is understandable – Norton was a stranger, and therefore an enemy by this fact alone. Yet, he had not harmed her. Obviously he was not interested in her as a mate, for if so he would have carried her off to his own tribe when the chance had presented itself.

That she should ask him to stay was unthinkable, for her own people would never accept a male enemy in their midst, and so both sat in moody silence, each wrapped in their own despairing thoughts.

At last Norton stirred himself to action and was about to utter those painful words of farewell when suddenly he heard the swish of foliage behind him. Neami cried in alarm as Norton spun about. His staff barely parried the thrusting spear of the warrior who, in a savage rush, had burst forth from the surrounding greenery.

Neami swung her own weapon without a second thought and fractured the attacker's skull with a vicious swing. The warrior screamed. He fell, blood gushing from his shattered temple. She looked with horror at what she’d done. But there was no time for further thought – in an instant they were fighting for their lives as other hunters burst from the verdure and ferociously fell upon the pair.

Norton and the girl fought back-to-back as they traded desperate blows with their circling enemies. Three savages went down in as many seconds, and hope rose within the pair that they might win free from this desperate plight. But this bright optimism was quickly crushed when a well cast net entangled them within its shroud of cords.

The savages rushed forward, spears poised for the killing thrust as Norton and the girl tumbled to the ground. The points halted inches from their flesh when one warrior stayed his fellows with a ringing cry: “Stop! Is this girl not Neami, daughter of Obuda?”

“By the spirits,” cried another. “Kanak is right, but she has sinned greatly by shedding a fellow Masa’s blood!”

Howls of outrage exploded with this realization. Grim faced, several savages advanced upon the struggling pair. Neami cried as the men lunged, spears thrusting viciously. Desperately, Norton tried to shield the girl, but found to his horror he couldn’t move in time.

Kanak swung his weapon like a staff and knocked aside the thrusting spears. But one point did graze Neami as it plunged into the loamy soil.

“Enough!” yelled Kanak. “Custom demands the chief decide their fate.”

“Oh, will take them to the chief,” said one burly fellow, grinning maliciously. “He’ll be pleased to see both, I’m sure.”

Neami frowned at this remark as she and Norton were bound and hauled upon their feet. But the girl did not care to dignify such sarcasm with any comment, preferring to deal directly with her father rather than his inferiors, and so she enjoined Norton to silence as they were forced through the extensive gardens, the curious eyes of the laboring women now upon them.

Norton, once again in the hands of potential enemies, observed his surroundings carefully. He immediately noticed that these women, unlike those of the Talasai, refrained from raining coarse insults upon them. But whether this indicated a different temperament, or recognition of Neami he did not know. They did, however, whisper to one another, commenting upon Norton’s strangeness and unflatteringly at Neami’s apparel - the tapa kilt she wore was men’s clothing, for she lacked the skill to carve the pubic shield all Masa women wore. Also, the girl’s hair attracted notice – the other women wore theirs in two braids that were wound around their heads and held in place with long bone skewers, elaborately carved.

Neami blushed at these snide whisperings - a more subtle form of cruelty - as both were led to a wooden cage, one of many at the foot of the towering cliff. Norton’s eyes widened in surprise as the party entered this device, for he saw it was a primitive lift powered by a complex system of counterweights and pulleys.

Kanak tugged upon a rope, and the lift began its smooth one hundred foot ascent to what fate only the gods may know. Norton glanced at Neami and saw that she appeared untroubled. Her father was the chief. No doubt he’d believe her story and she’d be safe, but what of him? Now there was a worrying thought indeed, and he was hard pressed to fight down the rising tide of apprehension that threatened to engulf him.

I must keep my head, thought Norton with firm resolve. Panicking won’t do me any good. True, indeed. But how long can any man under such circumstances stave off insidious fear?

Their conveyance bumped to a stop against the gantry from which it hung. The party disembarked. They marched along narrow alleys winding between the single story buildings. Norton noticed that they had been constructed with defense in mind - windows and doors were set high above the ground with access being gained by ladders that could be pulled up if the citadel was invaded.

At last they came to the rearmost and highest terrace of the mighty cavern that was formed by the beetling rock – a natural plaza that separated the Great House - the chief’s abode - from the huddled structures of those he ruled.

Neami’s heart quickened at the sight of her father’s dwelling. The girl’s eyes drank in the sight of her home, which was a more expansive version of the other houses. But neither prisoner could climb the ladder of this building, for their hands were bound behind their backs, so both were manhandled up the rungs with little regard for dignity, especially that of Neami whose body was groped under the pretext of this assistance.

“My father shall hear of this outrage, you worms,” hissed the girl as they entered the Great House and descended the second ladder leading to its dim interior. But the brutes merely laughed as they set her upon the floor of the frescoed antechamber.

Norton, whose rage had been mounting dangerously at the sight of these indignities heaped upon the helpless girl, forgot that caution is often the better part of valor. He lashed out savagely the moment his feet touched the ground. A crippling kick struck one man. He collapsed screaming, his knee shattered by the fierceness of the blow.

Another primitive leapt at Norton. The warrior uttered a piercing cry when the man’s boot caught him in the groin. The savage doubled over, collapsed and whimpered as he clutched himself. But in the end Norton’s heroics were doomed to failure, for the remaining warriors fell upon him in a rush and buried him beneath their crushing weight.

“By the spirits,” suddenly cried a thunderous voice. “Who dares disturb my peace with this unruliness?”

The chief stepped forward from the shadows, resplendent in his feathered headdress and kilt of unguna hide. The warriors hurriedly prostrated themselves before his imposing presence, and quailed beneath the hard stare of his raking eyes.

Neami turned, lips parted in a warm greeting for her indulgent father. But the words died in her throat, and a look of horror replaced that of joy, for although the man was chief he was not her sire but Hatua, whose harsh features bore the livid scar where her knife had slashed it to the bone.

*Footnote: An unwoven cloth made by steeping and beating the inner bark of the paper-mulberry tree (Broussoneta papyrifera).

Chapter 8: Torture of the Worms

Hatua’s cold eyes focused upon the girl, and unconsciously he touched the ugly scar she'd given him when he'd tried to rape her*. At the memory of that foiled act black hatred, like a dark shadow, passed briefly over the rugged landscape of his face before being quickly hidden by the mask of false civility.

Bowing slightly, the chief acknowledged her presence, but with a mocking smile that only she could see. “Neami, I am overjoyed at your safe return. Truly, the spirits smile upon you.”

“Spare me your lying words,” spat the girl, attempting to hide her rising fear with antagonism. “Where is my father? Why are you clothed in his regalia?”

Alas,” replied Hatua, maintaining a somber façade. “When the Talasai warriors carried you off from our gardens, Obuda was badly injured in the fray, and died later of his wounds. Naturally, being his younger brother, the chieftainship passed to me. The pain of your loss, I assure you, is equal to my own.”

Neami’s lips quivered. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and began to trickle in piteous streams down her cheeks. She sank upon her knees and veiled her face with her tresses - a forlorn figure whose sobbing tore at Norton’s heart. Oh, how he wanted to take her in his arms, to comfort her. But hard hands pinned him helplessly, and in silence he raged against cruel fate and crueler men.

Kanak took advantage of his chief’s gloating silence. He spoke quickly to Hatua of Norton’s capture, of the warrior’s death at Neami’s hand, and Hatua was hard pressed to restrain his exultation upon hearing these condemning words.

“This is a grave matter, indeed,” said the chief in pained tones that mirrored not at all the dark exultation of his inner being. Then, turning narrowed eyes upon the girl: “Do you deny the charge?”

“We acted in self defense,” cried Norton angrily. But his futile outburst merely brought scornful laughter from Hatua’s throat – a chilling sound bereft of all humanity – the nefarious echo of his benighted soul.

A cold smile then spread slowly across his face. “The man’s words condemn them both.” Hatua pondered for a moment in seeming deliberation – an act of course, for his mind had already set upon a plan. Neami watched him, fear and tension mounting in her, for she had an inkling of what he had in mind. But even so, the words were shocking when he uttered them.

“The Torture of the Worms shall be their fate. But I will spare Neami the humiliation of public execution.” Was this an act of mercy? No, merely cunning subterfuge - for Hatua desired privacy to inflict upon the girl acts of degradation that would sicken even his hardened followers.

Then, turning to the burly warriors who restrained Norton as he cursed the chief with every vile name he could recall: “Convey both prisoners to my inner chambers, and fetch for me the implements of their destruction.”

Both captives were dragged through a maze of deserted corridors whose walls were frescoed with paintings of the spirit world, delineated with a crude but exuberant vitality that would have been stirring to the man but for present circumstances.

Damned if I’m going to die with out a fight, thought Norton as with fierce desperation he lunged away from the two warriors in whose grip he struggled. As Norton’s cursing captors jerked him back he leapt upon them, aided by their hauling arms. All three tumbled to the ground. The savages released Norton to break their fall and the man rolled free and to his feet.

One snarling savage leapt up. The warrior lunged at Norton, knife stabbing with wild rage. Norton jumped aside, tripped the fellow and sent him crashing to the floor. Another warrior grabbed him from behind. His foe’s arms locked about his chest in a crushing grip while a second rushed him from the front, his club swinging in a braining stroke.

Neami, seeing the danger, fiercely stomped upon the toe of the savage holding her and thrust against him with her hips. The warrior howled. He released the girl and stumbled into the path of Norton’s assailant. The fellow’s cry of pain was cut short by the club's crushing blow intended for the Earthman.

Hatua yelled commands. The savages rushed both prisoners and hurled themselves upon the pair. Man and girl were knocked to the floor. Norton grunted as feet kicked him. Neami screamed in pain. The cursing warriors brutalized them with relish, but not enough to maim or kill, for that would deprive the chief of his dark pleasure.

Norton struggled and cursed. He tried to shield the girl with his body, but to no avail. At last the vicious beating ended. He was hauled to his feet along with Neami, and the warriors dragged them onward. Neami stumbled forward on shaking legs. She was overwhelmed by a sense of futility as she was forced through those rooms of happier days. The girl looked at Norton sadly, and thought of what might have been, for she now realized the nature of her feelings for the man. But it was all too late and so, weeping bitter tears, she tried to buttress her courage in preparation for what would soon befall them both.

Hatua directed his men to a storeroom where Norton was thrown to the ground and his ankles tightly bound upon the chief’s command. Further orders followed – Neami’s right ankle was tied to a stake after another warrior had hammered it into the packed earth floor, then her left wrist was bound to another peg, with right arm and left leg being hoisted to the ceiling’s beams by other ropes secured to her wrist and ankle.

Norton tried to calm himself as he watched the helpless girl. He saw her panting gasps, her body gleaming with the sweat of naked fear and the quiver of her muscles, cruelly strained.

Closing his eyes against the awful sight, Norton tried to think. But no plan of action came to his racing mind, and with bitter curses he named himself a fool.

A warrior stepped within the chamber carrying a clay vessel in his hands – a simple thing but to the watchers somehow pregnant with terrible menace, a menace perhaps reflected in the grim expression of its bearer’s face.

Hatua stepped forward. He took the proffered bowl with solemn grace, dismissed his men with a quiet command, and then slowly turned upon the pain-wracked girl. Neami quailed as she looked upon him, for in his leering twisted visage she sensed something of the horrors about to come.

Again Norton cursed. He struggled frantically against his bonds, but to no avail as Hatua advanced upon his writhing victim. The chief’s lips were parted in a savage smile. His teeth gleamed like fangs. He was a stalking figure - a thing of silent menace more bestial than any predator could ever be.

Slowly, Hatua knelt before her, his face seared with indescribable malice. Placing down the bowl the chief drew forth his obsidian blade. The girl moaned in dread. Her mind was blank with utter terror. Her trembling body became a puppet jerked by strings of fear as he stroked her breasts and belly with the weapon, cut away her kilt, and then cast the garment and the knife behind him with a contemptuous laugh.

Norton struggled impotently against his bonds. Burning rage came upon him as he helplessly watched the chief's violating hands drew forth shrieks of terror from the girl. Her body an instrument upon which Hatua played. Her cries of terror were a symphony of fear at which the chief laughed in cruel delight.

Then Norton saw his chance – engrossed in Neami’s torment Hatua did not see him roll towards the blade he’d cast aside. Norton seized it with trembling hands and began to saw frantically at the cords about his wrists as the chief, with wooden tongs, drew forth a slimy thing from the bowl.

The dregs of courage abandoned Neami as her fear wide eyes locked upon the wriggling horror. The girl writhed madly. She sobbed hysterically. Hatua uttered his hateful laugh as he dangled the flesh-eating worm above her heaving breasts.

With a surge of savage strength Norton broke the weakened bonds about his wrists. He madly slashed the second binding upon his ankles. The worm fell as Norton sprung with wild desperation at the chief. Hatua turned - the flash of movement but briefly glimpsed. The chief leapt to meet his desperate foe with a second glittering blade.

The two men came together like savage lions. Both managed to grasp the other’s knife hand. They wrestled, tried to knee and tried to trip each other in a deadly dance about the narrow confines of the shadowed room.

Neami’s screams stained the air with terror – the clinging worm had coiled about her nipple and was about to burrow into living flesh. Hatua kicked his foe. Norton lost his grip, he staggered back. The chief lunged at him, knife plunging. The blade grazed Norton’s stomach as he twisted and countered with a swift and vicious stab.

A sickening scream erupted from Hatua’s lips as Norton’s gutting stroke ripped him open and sent him to the floor in a welter of blood and entrails. Norton leapt over the writhing man. He snatched the worm from Neami’s breast and crushed the disgusting thing beneath his heel, then carefully cut her bonds and eased her gently to the floor.

The girl clung tightly to him. He stroked her hair tenderly and murmured words of comfort like a mother to a frightened child. Time passed, and Neami slowly regained some measure of composure. Her trembling limbs stilled. Her sobbing died away and she wiped her tear stained face with steady hands.

“Come,” said Norton, gently. “We can’t stay here. “Do you know of a way we can escape without being seen? I must carry you to safety while I can”

“To what purpose?” Neami replied, dejectedly. “Where can I go to find happiness? What sanctuary is there for me?”

“Come with me”, said Norton whose heart was moved by more than just pity for the girl. “My people are a kind, and together we will help you find a better life in a better land.”

Of course Norton wanted to say much more than that, for his reaction to Neami’s suffering made him realize his depth of feeling for the girl. But after the shock of her father’s death and the terrible ordeal at Hatua’s hands, he felt it was too soon for him to speak of love.

How wrong he was. Neami looked at Norton strangely, and for umpteenth time wondered if he were sane, for in her society (and she couldn’t conceive of others being very different) – when a warrior brought home a girl and didn’t claim her as his own (which in her eyes Norton hadn’t done), then she became the sexual plaything of all unmarried men, a fate that no woman would desire.

He must be mad, she sadly thought. But even so I’d have him if he wanted me. I’ll help him escape, but after that, what then; should I kill myself?”

Neami went cold at that idea. Before, it had seemed an easy thing to seek oblivion’s dark embrace. But Norton had given her the hope of better things and had changed her outlook to some degree. Still, now there seemed no other way, for with neither tribe nor mate she was prey to wild animals, and lustful men who were even worse than savage beasts.

“Follow me,” she said, her mind resolved as Norton helped her rise. ”There is an ancient passage that leads to deep caverns within the cliff – an escape route should our citadel be overrun by enemies.”

They departed the chamber, Neami spitting on Hatua’s corpse as they left. The girl led Norton through a maze of deserted rooms, for Hatua’s wives preferred the bright sunshine and fresh air of the valley, returning only their abode at the setting of the sun.

At last they arrived at a spacious chamber in the building’s heart. It was the well-appointed bedroom of the chief, its walls hung with shrunken heads and other grisly battle trophies. About the room stood large woven baskets shaped like urns, and from one Neami drew forth dried fruit and a water skin.

“Can we afford the time to eat?’ queried Norton.

“Can we afford not to?” countered the girl, and Norton realized she was right – it had been some time since they had last eaten, and the ordeals they had undergone hadn’t helped. Neami could barely stand, and he wasn’t in much better condition. He was covered with bloody cuts and livid bruises from many battles, and the girl bore only slightly lesser injuries.

They tended each other’s wounds while they hurriedly ate, for although they were in the private apartments of the chief, Neami admitted it was possible someone might grow suspicious of his absence and come looking for him.

Neami finished rubbing the pungent herbal oil on Norton’s back; assuring him it would both cleanse and heal their injuries. Then she rolled back a sleeping mat to reveal the hidden trap door beneath. Both quickly armed themselves with weapons taken from the walls and descended the ladder, Neami lighting the way with a flaming torch.

Stooping low, they shuffled along the narrow man made tunnel and emerged into a natural cavern whose depths the wavering torch light could but dimly illuminate. Stalagmites thrust up in fantastic shapes from the rugged floor, while stalactites hung above them – stony icicles from which water dripped in slow staccato beats, and over eons had built this cathedral to Nature’s majesty.

“It’s beautiful,” said Neami, her voice hushed with awe. But this wonder quickly turned to horror as a fearsome shape leapt from the shadows of a soaring natural pillar.

*Footnote: Because of the low status of women among Neami’s people, rape is not considered a serious crime, and that is why Obuda could only order Hatua be severely beaten, rather than killed or exiled.

Chapter 9: Escape into Otherness

The agbaw stood revealed in the flickering light. It was a hideous creature of brown fur spotted with irregular ebon blotches. Dog-like it was, but the size of a lion with a horse-like main upon its spine that bristled stiffly. Foul saliva dripped sickeningly from the three-inch canines that jutted downwards from its upper jaw. It stood still for a moment, dazzled by the glare. Then its feral eyes narrowed against the light and it advanced cautiously towards the source.

Norton saw its leanness. He correctly guessed it had wandered within the caverns and had become lost in the darkness. The beast was starving, made more dangerous by desperation. Famished eyes locked upon the man – here was meat. With a snarl of triumph it leapt towards its prey, brutal jaws agape.

Raised spear braced against his foot, Norton met the savage charge. Neami screamed as the faulty spear snapped under the hurtling agbaw’s weight. Both crashed down. The beast was badly wounded but still full of fight. The man’s hands locked about its throat. He barely managed to fend off its slavering jaws which snarled and snapped within inches of his face.

With a wild cry Neami dashed towards the creature and thrust her torch against its eye. The beast spun about, howling horribly. Its madly whirling body struck the girl and knocked her off her feet. She crashed with stunning force against the cavern floor. The agbaw staggered upright. The hair on half its face had been burnt away and its eye was a charred and ugly ruin. One good eye, ablaze with searing pain and wild hate, locked upon the semiconscious girl. Its foaming jaws darted for her throat.

Norton hurled himself against the beast. He knocked it down. Its snapping jaws missing Neami’s throat by an inch. Dagger drawn, he frantically stabbed the writhing mass of howling fury he had pinned beneath his weight.

One kicking hind leg struck Norton in the ribs. The blow hurled him to the earth. He hit hard and the knife spun from his grasp. The agbaw surged upright; blood streaming from its many wounds. It staggered towards the barely conscious man. It loomed above him – a thing of primal savagery. Upon his nape Norton dimly felt its breath and smelt its foulness. Saliva from the gaping jaws dribbled on him. His dull mind sensed the danger and futilely struggled to move his leaden limbs.

The terrible jaws were a hair’s breadth from his neck when Neami swung her mace with all her might. The stone head shattered the horror's skull to bloody ruin. The agbaw collapsed upon the man in a twitching heap.

Norton groaned as Neami hauled the carcass off him and helped him to a sitting position. “Christ, what a world,” he gasped as he gingerly explored the lacerations on his ribs. “The sooner we’re out of here the better.”

**********

Norton gazed upon the black gems, whose sight filled him with a sense of vast relief. It was now late afternoon, and the sun’s setting rays touched the minerals with fingers of pastel light that seemed to lend a glistening aura to their ebon forms.

“So, this is the entrance to your land?” said Neami, skepticism evident in her tone, for Norton had, using the limited concepts of her culture, explained as best he could their role in his extraordinary arrival upon this world.

“I know it sounds strange”, he said, turning to the girl. “Try and think of it as a doorway we’ll both be stepping through.”

“You may step through it if you wish; I have no desire to be a slave.”

An incredulous expression came upon Norton’s face. “What?” he gasped in utter disbelief.

The girl backed away and drew her knife. “Don’t touch me,” she cried, pressing the point to her throat.

Norton looked at Neami, shocked by her outburst and the sight of the blade against her neck. “You hate me, then?”

“I truly don’t know what to think of you,” she replied in anguished tones. The girl closed her eyes; her fingers tensed upon the knife and pressed it home. Norton leapt. A look of utter horror was upon his face. He caught her wrist as the blade grazed flesh, jerked her hand away, and found that he was wrestling with a lioness – all teeth and clawing nails.

A Bloody furrow marked Norton’s face where he’d nearly lost an eye to her slashing blade. He didn’t want to hurt the girl, but fear for his own safety was now uppermost in his mind. Savagely, he exerted his full strength and twisted Neami’s arm painfully behind her back. She cried in agony and dropped the knife as he forced her to her knees, then upon her belly.

It was a primal scene – the naked girl and the victorious male pinning her beneath his weight. Both breathing heavily from their exertions, and perhaps it was this that roused in Norton those atavistic tendencies that dwell within most civilized men, for we are not so different from our savage forebears as we believe ourselves to be.

Rolling the struggling girl upon her back he pinioned her wrists with a vice like grip, and with knees upon her spread thighs stilled her thrashing legs. “By Christ,” he cried. “You’re coming with me because … because you’re mine!” Then he kissed her, and with passion.

Neami’s struggles ceased. Desire replaced fear as she surrendered to Norton’s questing hands, his probing tongue. Her hips began undulating with mounting fervor as he explored her body. Then sanity prevailed - the man reigned in his wild passions and rolled off the panting girl.

“God,” gasped Norton, breathlessly, “I … I almost raped you. Forgive me. I … I don’t know what came over me.”

Neami looked at him, a puzzled expression upon her face. “You desire me as a mate, do you not?”

“Why, yes. But...”

“Then, by the customs of my people you have done nothing wrong,” she said, leaning over him so one large nipple invitingly touched his lips, overjoyed that at last he had regained what to her was some semblance of normality.

A sudden roar interrupted further love play. Both leapt to their feet and snatched up fallen weapons as two unguna burst from the verdure in a savage rush. Neami ducked one whistling club and smashed the thing’s knee with her weighty mace. With a feral howl it fell into the other’s path, tripping the second beast which collapsed heavily upon it.

Norton leapt forward and crushed the second unguna’s skull with his mace. The first beast grabbed his ankle and tripped the man. It dragged his struggling form towards its gaping maw. Neami rushed in, swinging wildly. The creature caught the descending mace with its other hand, and with fearsome strength tore it from her grasp, tumbling her to the ground.

The thing was about to strike Neami with the weapon when, with a wild cry, Norton slammed his mace upon its head with killing force. The monster went limp, blood oozing from its shattered skull.

Quickly, the man rushed to Neami’s side and helped her stand just as a troop of savage ungunas, alerted by the violent conflict, erupted from the jungle in a wild dash.

Norton swept Neami into his arms. He raced for the black gems and hurled himself and the girl against their ebon forms. Blackness engulfed them, as they escaped into otherness. But will we return to Earth? This was Norton’s final thought as his being dissolved into nothingness.

**********

Norton opened his eyes. Emerald verdure overarched him and through it the sun’s rays slanted in golden shafts. Neami! Where was she? He lurched upright, thrust through by wild fear.

The girl lay next to him. He bent over her, anxiously feeling for a pulse. Neami’s eyes fluttered open at his touch. She pulled him close and clung tightly to him, badly shaken by the terrible ordeal of their weird transition.

Norton sensed a presence behind him. He turned tensely, and then relaxed. “It’s all right Neami,” he said, soothingly. “We’re home.”

Elias Lexton, captain of the Solaris, stared at Norton, then Neami, amazement and relief a competing mixture upon his bearded face. “Norton,” he cried. “What the devil? Who’s this? Where have you been? We’ve been searching for you for ages.”

Norton grinned as he hugged Neami. “It’s a long story,” He said. “It’s a long story.”

THE END