Explorers Of Gor

53
The Battle; Blood And Steel; We Survive

"I had hoped that you would follow," said Shaba. "When you were put upon the rogues' chain I feared it might be the end of you. I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am to find that you are here."

Shaba, drawn and worn, lay upon a couch, blankets behind his head. His left arm seemed useless and he was haggard with disease.

"Then," said I, "remove these manacles in which I have been placed." The scribe had led us through the city, ascending and descending streets, making our way through various buildings, following various ancient avenues, flanked by the ruins of what must once have been an impressive grandeur. Bila Huruma and I had followed the scribe most closely. Then had come the members of our various parties. Kisu had kept our girls, with the exception of Tende, in coffle. We had unbound the ankles of the dark-haired girl and of Turgus. We had kept them gagged. The neck rope of Turgus had been in the keeping of Ayari. Then we had come, more than two hundred of us, to a fortresslike ruin, on a raised level. We had been requested to wait within the ancient threshold, which had once held a gate. Shaba's men had, to some extent, refortified the ruin, placing stones within the threshold. so that only one man at a time might enter. Too, between the edges of the walls, over the stones, they had erected a barrier of lashed poles. Shaba had still with him some fifty men. While the rest of our two parties, including Bila Huruma, had waited within the threshold, I was conducted across the broad stone court to its center, where, on a huge stone couch, of ancient design, lay Shaba. Before being allowed to approach him closely Shaba's men, ringing me with spears, placed me in manacles, locking my hands behind my back. It was thus that I stood now before the geographer of Anango.

"Shaba is dying," had said the scribe who had conducted us to this place. "Do not speak long."

I regarded Shaba.

"Please, my friend," said Shaba to me, "forgive the manacles. But surely you must understand that they constitute a sensible precaution of my part."

About Shaba's neck, on a thin golden chain, hung a ring. It was heavy and golden, much too large for the finger of a man. In the ring was a silver plate. Opposite. the bezel, on the outside of the ring, was a circular, recessed switch.

"You display the ring boldly," I said.

Shaba touched the ring. On his right hand, now, he wore another ring, the fang ring, which, filled with kanda, I had seen earlier in Schendi. A scratch from that ring would destroy a kailiauk in a matter of seconds. "Do you think ill of me, Tarl Cabot?" he asked.

"You are a traitor to Priest-Kings," I said. "You have stolen the Tahari ring."

"I am a scribe, and a man of science and letters," said Shaba. "Surely you can understand the importance of the ring to me."

"It can bring wealth and power," I said.

"Such things are not of interest to me," said Shaba. The tribal stitching of tattoo marks on his dark face wrinkled with a smile. "But I do not expect you to believe that," he said.

"I do not," I said.

"How hard it is for two who do not share caste to understand one another," he said.

"Perhaps," I said.

"I took the ring for two reasons," he said. "First, it made possible the ascent of the Ua. Without it we should not have come this far. In many villages, and among hostile peoples, the demonstration of the power of the ring, as I had hoped, permitted us safe passage. On the river, I am afraid, I am regarded as something of a wizard. Had it not been for the ring I and my men would have been slain many times." He smiled at me. "My exploration of the Ua," he said, "would not have been possible without the ring."

"Surely you are aware that possession of the ring is dangerous," I said.

"I am well aware of that," he said. With his right hand he gestured about himself. He indicated the walls of the fortresslike enclosure within which he had ensconced himself and his men. Too, about this enclosure, at the foot of stairs leading from it, was a broad, shallow moat. Waters from the lake circulated through the city and fed this moat. In it, as had been demonstrated, by the hurling of a haunch of tarsk into the waters, crowded and schooling, were thousands of blue grunt. This fish, when isolated and swimming free in a river or lake, is not particularly dangerous. For a few days prior to the fullness of the major Gorean moon, however, it begins to school. It' then becomes extremely aggressive and ferocious. The haunch of tarsk hurled into the water of the moat, slung on a rope, had been devoured in a matter of Ihn. There had been a thrashing frenzy in the water and then the rope had been withdrawn, severed. The moat had been crossed by a small, floating wooden bridge, tied at each end. This had been built, being extended outward from the opposite shore, by Shaba's men. The effectiveness of the moat, aside from the barrier of the water itself, would become negligible with the passing of the full moon, until the next. The grunt, following the mating frenzy, synchronized with the full moon, would return to the lake. Given the habits of the fish I had little doubt but that this place was an ancient mating ground for them, for the grunt populations tend to return again and again to the places of their frenzy, wherever, usually in a lagoon or shallow place in a river, they may be. The grunt now schooling in the open moat, come in from the lake, could well be the posterity of grunt populations dating back to the time when the city was not in ruins but in the height of its glory and power. The grunt in the moat were for a time an effective barrier, but surely Shaba and his men realized that it must be temporary. Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck rose. I now understood the practicality of their present situation.

"You were waiting for us," I said.

"Of course," said Shaba. "And if you had not come by today, I do not know what we would have done."

"The wall of the grunt," I said. "It has protected you for some four or five days."

"It proved enough," said Shaba. "It gave you time to arrive.

"You have been followed by Kurii," I said.

"Yes," said Shaba. "That is our belief. We have, however, seen only tracks. I fear, even now, however, they may be gathering. They must be somewhere in the city."

"Your man was courageous to come and fetch us," I said.

"He is Ngumi," said Shaba. "He is courageous, indeed. We did not know if he would get through."

"I did not know a scribe could be so courageous." I said.

"There are brave men in all castes," said Shaba.

"We may have been permitted, however, to come through," I said.

"That Msaliti gain entrance to the fortification?" asked Shaba.

"Of course," I said.

"Perhaps," he said.

"You said," I said, "that you took the ring for two reasons, but you mentioned only one, that it facilitated your journey upon the Ua."

"Look there," said Shaba, indicating a table to one side, on which there lay a cylindrical leather case, with a leather cap, and four notebooks, heavy and bound with leather.

"I see," I said.

"There is a map case there," he said, "and my notebooks. I have, in my journey, charted the Ua, and in the notebooks I have recorded my observations. Those things, though you, of the warriors, may not understand this, are priceless."

"Your records would doubtless be of value, to geographers," I said.

"They are," said Shaba, "of inestimable value to all civilized men."

"Perhaps," I said.

"The maps, those records," said Shaba, "open up a new world. Think not only in terms of crass profit, my friend, of the bounties there to hunters and trappers, to traders and settlers, to planters and physicians, but to all men who wish to understand, who wish to know, who wish to unveil hidden secrets and penetrate hitherto unsolved mysteries. In these maps and records, for those who can understand them, lie the first glimpses of new and vast countries. In these maps, and in these notes and drawings, there are treasures and wonders." He looked at me, intently. "And that," he said, "is the second reason I took the ring."

"I do not understand," I said.

"I did not expect to survive this journey, nor to return," he said. "I am pleased that I have come this far, that I have found the source of the Ua."

"Yes?" I said.

"I took the ring," he said, "not only to facilitate my journey, but that you, or another, would follow, that there would be someone who could bring my maps and notes back to civilization."

"You fled," I said, "fearing me."

Shaba smiled. "The Ua," said he, "seems a strange avenue of escape. No, my friend, I did not flee. Rather I began my voyage of exploration, my expedition into the interior."

"What of the moneys, those vast sums wrought from the Kurii, the notes negotiated in Schendi?" I asked.

"They were to defray the costs of outfitting the expedition, of hiring the men," he said. "Surely you do not object to my making use of the funds of Kurii for such a purpose. They should be pleased to have made their contribution to so noble a project."

"You distribute your treacheries impartially," I said. "Doubtless that is to your credit."

"Do not think too poorly of me, Tarl," said Shaba. "This was to me the opportunity of a lifetime. If I have erred, I have erred in the cause of my caste and in that, more generally, of humankind." He regarded me, a little sadly. "What do you think Priest-Kings would do with the ring?" he asked. "It would not be important to them. But to me, to men, it is momentous. Indeed, I doubt that Priest-Kings would even wish to permit the use of the ring to men. It seems possible to me they would regard its use as contravening their structures on human technology."

"Perhaps," I said. "I truly would not know how they might view the matter."

"So," said Shaba, "I took the ring. With it I have explored the Ua. I have found her source. With it, too, I have lured you after me, that my maps and notes might be returned safely to civilization."

I looked down at the map case and the notebooks.

"Yes," said Shaba, "it is those things which I have purchased with the theft of the ring, and my life." He suddenly tensed. I saw that he was in pain. "Guard them well, my friend," he said.

"Why did you flee the palace of Bila Huruma?" I asked. Shaba had fled, I recalled, with three galleys. Bila Huruma, with the balance of his ships and supplies, had followed him.

"It is perhaps he whom I have most wronged," said Shaba, sadly, "and yet I think that in fleeing his palace I may have saved his life."

"I do not understand," I said.

"Bila Huruma, my patron and protector," said Shaba, "stood between Msaliti and myself. Msaliti had already attempted one attack on his life, that in which Jambia, the assassin, died by the osts, that same attack in which he sought to implicate you."

"Yes," I said.

"As long as I remained in the palace, Bila Huruma was, in danger," he said. "When I fled there would be no reason for Msaliti to plot his death. Yet I knew well that when I fled Bila Huruma would follow me."

"Of course," I said. "Msaliti would then have no alternative but to tell Bila Huruma of the ring, and then join with him in Bila Huruma's attempt to seize it, hoping later to secure it for himself."

"I do not think Bila Huruma has followed me for the ring," smiled Shaba.

"Why else?" I asked.

Shaba said nothing.

"No other motivation could bring him to this place," I said, "other than to kill for the ring. Its power would make him absolute and invincible."

"Perhaps," smiled Shaba.

"How is it," I asked, "that you fear you may have wronged Bila Huruma?" That seemed as unlikely to me as a fellow worrying about wronging a larl who was padding along upon his trail.

"By using him for my purposes," said Shaba.

"What purposes?" I asked.

Shaba lay back on the blankets for a moment. He shut his eyes in pain.

I watched the ring on the chain about his neck.

Shaba, weary, opened his eyes. He looked at me. He was weak.

"I have no interest in your maps and notebooks," I said. "I have come for the ring. Have these manacles removed. Give me the ring."

There was suddenly a scream from the height of the wall. I spun about to see one of Shaba's men reel about and then plunge bloody from the wall's height to the stones below. Then, rimmed against the blue tropical sky I saw, arms upraised, a red-spattered panga in its right paw, the huge, towering shaggy figure of a Kur. There were screams from below. Then I heard the screams of wild Kurii from all about, encircling the walls. I saw the height of a slender tree trunk suddenly protruding against the sky, leaning against the wall from the outside. A Kur scrambled up the trunk and leaped down over the wall. At other places, too, I saw the heads of Kurii, broad and fanged, eyes blazing, arms and paws thrust over the wall.

One of the Kurii screamed, a stabbing spear thrust in its chest. Bila Huruma swiftly deployed his askaris. I saw Kisu, a raider's spear over this head, held in both hands, rush toward a crouching Kur, one just leaped into the courtyard.

"Remove these manacles!" I cried to Ngumi, the scribe at the side of Shaba, he who had conducted us to this place.

Eight or ten more Kurii dropped inside the wall, lightly for their weight, and crouched there for the moment, pangas in their fangs, the knuckles of their paws on the stones.

I saw Msaliti draw his knife and slip to the side.

Askaris rushed up stone stairs to the height of the walls, where the lateral walkways had not crumbled. I saw one thrust back another tree trunk. Then I saw four of them cut from the to of the wall by a charging Kur, one wielding a giant panga. I saw Kurii, too, thrusting their arms through the barrier of lashed poles mounted over the stones at the threshold. Ayari, small Ayari, joined the askaris there, thrusting with a stabbing spear through the poles.

"Free me!" I cried, maddened, to the scribe. I fought the manacles. I saw more Kurii clambering over the walls.

The scribe threw a wild look at Shaba. "Free him," said Shaba.

I saw two Kurii, on all fours, pangas in their fangs, look towards us.

I heard screams at the threshold. I saw the poles being splintered and smote apart by pangas.

One of the slave girls, somewhere, screamed. A manacle, its double bolt thrust back by the key, opened. Many of the Kurii, I suspected, were Gorean Kurii, wild, degenerate Kurii, descendants of marooned Kurii or survivors of crashed ships. Others, I feared, were ship Kurii. "Hurry!" I cried. One of the two Kurii who had been looking at us suddenly lifted his arm and pointed towards us. On all fours, moving with an agility and speed frightening in so large a beast, they charged. The other manacle snapped free. I saw one of the beasts throw itself, panga still in its fangs, toward Shaba, reaching for the ring on its chain. I hurled the loosened manacles into the face of the other Kur. The beast who had attacked Shaba suddenly drew back, startled. Puzzled it looked at its paw, where there was a flash of bright blood. The panga fell from its fangs. The beast who confronted me, howling, tore the manacle from its slashed, moonlike eye. Its mouth was bloody where it had bitten dn the steel of the panga. I scrambled, leaping, half crawling, to the place on the stones where Ngumi had, after putting me in manacles, dropped my belt, sheath and dagger. I rolled wildly to the side. The panga of the beast who followed me, with a great ringing sound, and a flash of sparks, smote down on the stone. The beast who had attacked Shaba lay dead by his couch. Shaba was coughing and spitting blood. The blade of his fang ring, that containing kanda, was exposed, and bloody. I threw myself to the side again and again the great panga fell. The table on which reposed the map case and notebooks of Shaba seemed to explode in two, wood splintering and flying to the sides, the map case and notebooks, scattering, showering upward.

The Kur, roaring and snarling, looked about. For the moment it had lost me. I kept to its blind side. Then, uttering the war cry of Ko-ro-ba, I leaped upon its back, and, an arm about its throat, plunged the dagger to its heart. I felt the great body shuddering under me and I leaped away from it.

I spun about. I saw another Kur at Shaba. Again Shaba interposed the fang ring. I saw the six digits of the paw close on the chain about Shaba's neck, and then the digits released the chain and the beast slipped back, limply. It sat for a moment, and then, unsteadily, fell to the side.

I thrust the bloody dagger between my teeth. On it I tasted the blood of Kur.

I seized up the panga which had been carried by the beast I had slain. It was heavy. I must needs use two hands to wield it.

I looked back once to Shaba, who, head down, was clutching at the blankets of the couch. They were covered with blood. Ngumi ran to him. Shaba lifted his head. "Fight," he said. "Save yourselves."

"I will never leave you!" cried Ngumi. Then he cried out, half cut in two. I leaped forward and, frontally, struck the Kur which had slain Ngumi. Its broad head was cut open to the neck. I looked down at Ngumi. The tribal stitching on his face, so startling and paradoxical in a scribe, a man of civilization, was identical to that on the face of Shaba.

"Help!" I heard. "They are breaking through!"

I ran to the threshold and, leaping upon the stones, screaming, struck at the arms and paws which were thrusting back the barrier of lashed poles. Paws and arms, severed, flew bloody from the blade. Kurii, howling, drew back.

"Others are coming over the walls!" I heard.

"Free me!" I heard. I ran to Turgus and slashed his bonds. He seized up a stabbing spear from a fallen askari and ran to fight. I then slashed away the bonds of the huddled, crouching slave girls. "Master!" cried Janice. They might now have some chance to flee. Yet they were enclosed within the walls. A human female who falls to a male conqueror may sometimes, by submitting herself totally to him as a slave, save her life, at least until he determines whether or not she is sufficiently pleasing. Kurii, on the other hand, generally have little interest in human females except as food.

I turned to meet the attack of another Kur. I blocked his blow with the panga and was, from the force of it, thrown back a dozen feet. He struck again and I was hurled back to the wall. The panga had almost been ripped away from me. My hands stung. He struck again and stone showered out from the wall, to the right of my head. I slipped to the side and caught him with the panga, striking across the hip and lower abdomen. He grunted and stepped back, holding splinters of bone and loops of intestine in its paw. I then struck its head away.

"Kisu, watch out!" I cried.

Kisu turned but a figure interposed itself between him and the attacker. A stabbing spear was thrust into the belly of the Kur, and then, stabbing five times more, in the belly and chest, and throat, the interposing figure forced back the bewildered, enraged beast. An askari then struck the beast from behind, thrusting his stabbing spear deep into its back, below the left shoulder blade. The beast turned to attack its new menace, and he who had been the interposing figure, now behind it, as it had turned, thrust his own stabbing spear deep into its back, as had the askari. The beast sank to its knees and snapping crawled toward the retreating askari for more than a dozen feet until it collapsed on the stones.

Kisu glared at he who had been the interposing figure. "My thanks, Ubar," he then said. Then each, Kisu, the rebel, and Bila Huruma, Ubar of the equatorial empire, side by side, addressed themselves to thwarting the attack of new Kurii. I held the panga in two hands. My mouth was bleeding, as I had cut myself on the dagger clenched between my teeth. I looked about. I thrust the dagger through my tunic, it held in place, in the pierced cloth, by its hilt. I wiped blood from my face. I rejoined the fray. I struck a Kur from behind that was towering over a fallen askari, opening the shaggy skull to the nape. Another I struck, too, from behind, severing the spinal column. It had been bent over, pausing to feed. I saw yet more Kurii clambering over the wall. Others pressed again now at the lashed poles over the stones at the threshold. I ran toward the threshold. I hacked them back. They drew back, a leader roaring and gesticulating. Then others brought forth two of the slender tree trunks they had been using to scale the walls. I threw back my head to breathe. I checked that the dagger was still caught in my tunic. I thrust it through another place, too, in the tunic. Too easily, earlier, it might have been lost.

"How have we been surprised?" I asked Ayari, who was at the threshold.

"The guards at the small bridge were surprised and killed," he said. 'They took the bridge and crossed the moat."

"It is a slaughter," I said.

I looked about. The oval leather shields and the stabbing spears of the askaris might have been ideal armament for invincibility in tribal warfare but they afforded little in the way of martial equity when compared to the weighty, slashing pangas of the Kurii. They were not the mighty axes and heavy shields of Torvaldsland.

Bila Huruma was screaming at his men. He himself had discarded his shield, or it had been struck from him. "Single them out," he cried. "Attack in fives, one engage, four strike!"

"He is improvising tactics," said Ayari.

"He is a Ubar," I said.

One askari might fend a committed blow of the panga with the iron blade of his stabbing spear. Four others might then, swarming upon the beast, drive their weapons repeatedly into it. These Kurii were, on the whole, wild Kurii, not ship Kurii. Each would be used to fighting alone, terrible and solitary, hunting its own kills in the ancient manner. They might be in proximity to one another, but each functioned, in effect, as an isolated unit. They were horrifying and ferocious, but were not trained.

"There are too many," I said: "It is true that we are lost," said Ayari, "but we shall make a good fight of it."

"Well said," said I, "small rogue."

I saw Bila Huruma slip to one knee. A mighty Kur stood over him, his panga raised over his head. Then, from behind Bila Huruma, there was a wild cry of Ukungu, and a raider's spear, in its length, thrust past the Ubar and buried itself in a red wound in the Kur's heart.

"My thanks, Rebel," said Bila Huruma, regaining his feet. Kisu pulled his weapon free, and grinned. "I now owe you nothing," he said.

"True," said Bila Huruma, and then again, side by side, rebel and Ubar, they fought.

One of the Kur leaders, then, marshaling his forces, formed them in loose lines, that they might no longer be singly attacked. I had little doubt but what he was a ship Kur. I admired his ability to control the degenerate, recruited Kurii he commanded. There was perhaps in them the vestige, or memory, perhaps passed on in an oral tradition, of the disciplines and dignities in their past, notably, doubtless, that of ship loyalty.

"We are finished now," I said. "They will fight together."

Bila Huruma now gathered his men about him. Many were covered with blood. There were probably no more than a hundred left then with him.

I saw more Kurii dropping over the wall.

Suddenly, behind us, there was a splintering of lashed poles, and bindings, too, tore loose. Again and again, then, the trunks of small trees struck at the barrier fending us from the main forces of the attacker.

"We must hold them," cried Ayari.

"It cannot be done," I said. The framework of lashed poles, suddenly, broke half apart and Kurii swarmed within, some with pangas, some with clubs and sharpened sticks. We fell back from the stones, literally swept from our rampart by the irruption of the wood and the flood of massive; charging bodies.

The panga then was gone from my hands, wrenched away, lost in the body of the Kur in which I had buried it.

"Form!" I cried. "Get the wall to your backs!"

Men streamed past me to take a stand by the wall. I leaped upon a Kur's chest, holding to him by my left hand, clenched in fur behind its shaggy neck. I drove the dagger, torn from my tunic, again and again into its chest. The Kur had worn rings of gold in its ears. I had little doubt it was a ship Kur. I slipped free as the animal screamed and reeled about, then fell, falling among the stones and wood, scratching at the stone.

I saw Torgus drive a stabbing spear into the chest of — a maddened Kur.

Then it seemed Kurii were all about me, yet scarcely aware of me, intent rather on the men at the wall. I drove my dagger into the belly of one which was pressing past me, and. in its rush, it hardly understanding that it was wounded, was carried, dragged, holding to the beast and dagger, for fifty feet among the Kurii. I wrenched the dagger free and, as another Kur, suddenly seeing me among them, truly seeing me, reached for me I thrust the dagger upward. It is difficult to reach the Kur's brain with so small a weapon. It may be done, however, with the proper angle of elevation, through the socket of the eye. It may also be done through the ear and, where the skull is thinner, the temple. The Kur roared with pain and I lost the dagger, it wrenched away as the Kur threw its claws to its face. It pulled loose the dagger howling. Then it reached for me. I backed away. It died before it reached me. I pressed back and then, on either side of me, was with men. Weapons clashed at the line of war. The golden chain I had received from Bila Huruma, which he had returned to me, retrieving it from our raiders' canoe, was covered with blood. I saw a Kur reaching over the wall, behind our men. I sprang upon the worn stone stairs leading at this point to the wall. I kicked it back over the wail. Another, finding footholds in the ancient stone, clambered upward. I removed the golden chain and lashed it in the face and it fell backwards from the wall, to the stones some twenty feet below. I raced along the wall's top and thrust back one of the free trunks put against it. Two Kurii leaped from it as it toppled. I then saw a Kur below, within the wall. It was behind our line of men. It drew back the panga. I leaped from the wall's height to its shoulders and looped the golden chain about its neck. It reached for me but could not dislodge me. I kept my head low, and my body away from the pangs. I tightened the chain. It flung itself against the wall and I was half crushed. My back felt wet and bits of rock stung in my back. I tightened the chain, tenaciously. I felt the claws of the Kur tearing at my back. I then felt the sudden rupture of the cartilage of its throat. Still it clawed at me. It could make no sound. Its tongue was half bitten through. The panga fell to the ground. It stood unsteadily. My hands were bloody on the golden chain, its links deep, almost unseen, in the throat of the Kur. Then it fell. I leaped free of it and tore loose the chain, looping its bloody links about my own neck. I picked up the fallen panga. To my horror the beast reached for me. I saw its great lungs expand and its eyes looking at me. It sucked air into its body through its ruptured throat, blood emerged from its mouth. It is not easy to kill a Kur. It reached again for me. I struck it with the panga, and then struck it again. "Forgive me, my friend," I said. The blows had not been those of a warrior, but of a butcher. I was unsteady, and weak, my hands had trembled. I hoped that it would not regard itself as dishonored by my clumsiness.

I heard Bila Huruma rallying his men by the wall. Then he cried, "Charge!"

His audacity had taken the Kurii by surprise. But, in moments, viciously, Bila Huruma, Kisu, Turgus, Ayari and the askaris had been forced back again.

The situation was hopeless and yet, I think, the Kurii had been taught respect for men.

I saw a Kur leader, quickly and methodically, aligning his beasts. I doubted but what it would take more than one charge by the massed forces of the Kurii. To my surprise I saw the Kur leader, a huge, brown Kur, doubtless from one of the far ships, lift his panga in salute to the black Ubar. Bila Huruma, then, breathing heavily, raised his stabbing spear in his dark and bloody fist. "Askari hodari!" he cried. I shook with emotion. It was much honor he had done the beast, not even human, confronting him. The salute of the Kur commander had been acknowledged and returned. The words Bila Huruma had uttered were of course in the native tongue of Ushindi. One might translate them, in the context, I suppose, as 'Brave Soldier'. A better translation, however, I think, especially since there is no other way to say this in the Ushindi tongue, is doubtless the simpler one, 'Warrior.

"I have it," we heard cry. We looked to the stones at the threshold. There stood Msaliti, an upraised bloody dagger in one hand, and, in the other, held high over his head, on its chain, a dangling ring.

"He has the ring!" I cried.

Msaliti shook the chain over his head. "I have it! I have it!" he cried.

I looked to the couch of Shaba. About it lay dead Kurii and slaughtered askaris. Shaba, coughing, held his chest. The poison ring, the fang ring, had been emptied. Msaliti had awaited his opportunity. He had then fallen upon Shaba. From the wounds I adjudged Shaba had been struck at least four or five times. He had then seized the chain and ring, and run to the threshold. The Kurii were between us and Msaliti.

The Kur commander raised his paw. His lips drew back over his fangs. It was a sign of Kur triumph, or pleasure. Then he swiftly communicated commands to his beasts. Msaliti leaped down from the stones and withdrew from the fortresslike enclosure. The Kurii facing us then, snarling, watching us, not turning their backs, began to withdraw. They obeyed their commander. He had won. He would not now risk more of his beasts. Too, he would wish to use them to guarantee the safe passage of the ring to his prearranged rendezvous, from whence it would be eventually returned to the steel worlds, or, on this planet, used devastatingly against men and Priest-Kings.

I, panga clutched in two hands, lunged after the beasts. Kisu seized me, holding me back. Bila Huruma, too, interposed himself between me and our shaggy adversaries. "No!" cried Kisu. "No!" cried Bila Huruma. "It is madness to follow!" "Stay with us, Tarl!" cried Ayari. Turgus, too, seized an arm. I could not free myself from Kisu and Turgus.

"Release me!" I said.

"You can do nothing now," said Kisu.

"They will destroy the bridge," I said. "We will be prisoners here!"

"Tonight is the full moon," said Ayari. "Tonight, if you wish, you may wade through the fish unharmed. Tomorrow they will have returned to the lake."

"Release me!" I cried.

"You can do nothing now," said Kisu.

I, held, watched the departure of the Kurii. They, obedient to their orders, withdrew. I admired the Kur commander, that he had been able to instill in his fierce beasts such discipline. As they withdrew some dragged with them the fallen bodies of askaris.

Bila Huruma hurried to the side of Shaba.

I shook loose of Turgus and Kisu and ran to the stones at the threshold. As I ascended to their height I saw the floating bridge cut free at our end. It was then dragged to the opposite side and hauled onto the level. Between myself and the beasts there lay the broad, uneasy moat, some forty feet across, stirring with the movements of the crowded fish.

I descended from the stones which had been piled in the threshold by Shaba's men, the better to fortify the walled area.

I looked across the moat at the Kurii. Kisu and Turgus, and Ayari, stood behind me.

On the other side of the moat Msaliti lifted the chain and ring over his head. "I have won!" he cried.

The Kur commander took the chain from him and looped it over his head.

"I have won!" cried Msaliti.

The Kur commander than gave orders to one of his beasts. Msaliti screamed with misery as the animal lifted him high over his head and then threw him into the moat.

Almost instantly Msaliti was on his feet and then he screamed, and fell, and again regained his feet, and fell again. There was a thrashing about him, a churning in the water, and it seemed the water exploded with blood and bubbles. Msaliti, as though moving through mud, howling, waded, through the packed, slippery, voracious bodies. I tore the raider's spear from Kisu and extended it to Msaliti who, screaming, grasped it. We drew him from the water. His feet and legs were gone. We struck tenacious fish from his body. He then lay on the level and we, with strips of cloth, tried to stanch his bleeding.

The Kurii, on the other side of the moat, single file, then padded away.

We fought to save Msaliti. Finally, with tourniquets, we managed to slow, and then stop, the bleeding.

Bila Huruma then stood beside me, on the level near the moat. "Shaba is dead," he said.

Msaliti lifted his hand to the Ubar. "My Ubar," he said.

Bila Huruma looked down at Msaliti sadly. Then he said to his askaris, 'Throw him to the fish."

"My Ubar!" cried Msaliti, and then he was lost in the moat, the fish swarming about him.

I suddenly felt Janice clinging to my arm weeping. There was leather on her throat, and, on her wrists anal ankles were the deep marks of freshly slashed binding fiber. She and the other girls, during the action, had, one by one, been caught by Kurii and put in throat coffle. The coffle had then been dragged to a corner of the fortresslike enclosure. There the girls, without being removed from the coffle, had been thrown on their bellies and bound hand and foot. They had then been left there, left for later, squirming and helpless, tied as fresh meat. An askari, after the withdrawal of the Kurii, had freed them.

"Oh, my master," wept Janice, holding me. "We are alive, my master!"

I looked bitterly across the moat. I had failed. Then I held the girl's head to my shoulder and, as she wept. I considered the fortunes of war.

I saw the narrow column of Kurii disappear among the distant buildings.

I clasped the slave closely to me. "Do not cry, sweet slave," I told her. Then I, too, but in bitterness and misery, shed tears.