Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Forty-Seventh: HOW THE TARNS OF VICTORY CAME TO SURMOUNT THE STANDARDS OF AGAMEMNON

It was a long, weird cry, from Cabot's left, and he reached out his hand, wildly, but could not grasp the outstretched, clutching hand of the human, one from the cages, to his left.

He did see him descending, moving in the air, for some seconds, but did not see him strike the side of the cylinder, as he disappeared through the greenery, hundreds of yards below.

Four others had similarly fallen, who had not reached his own point. Most of those who had come with him had been unable to adhere to the flat surface. Few had managed to climb more than ten to fifteen yards onto the cap, from the cylinder surface. Cabot, and some with him, were the first to essay the climb. They had smeared their bodies and clothing, and the flats of their hands with a resinous, tarlike substance. They were climbing against the rotation. To climb with it, as they would be carried about in the rotation, courted the danger of being flung headlong from the cap before they could approach the gravity-free zone. Climbing against it was difficult but one was less likely to be swept about and dashed to the ground. One would do one's best to adhere to the surface and then, as possible, now and again, move a foot or two, at a time, closer to the center of the cap.

Cabot heard another cry of misery and saw one of his fellows slipping down the surface, scratching at it with his finger nails, and then, he, too, lost the surface, was loose in the air, turning, and disappeared in the greenery below.

"Go back!” cried Cabot to those with him. “Go back! Go back, while you can!"

Inch by inch, he saw two of his fellows, flattened against the steel, moving downward.

"Come with us!” cried a fellow, one from the forest cylinder. Cabot remembered him from the camp of Archon.

Those from the forest world, as noted earlier, were being taught speech. In this way, they might communicate the better amongst themselves, and with other humans. Already most had mastered a thousand or more words.

"Go back!” repeated Cabot, fiercely, and he, himself, moved another perilous foot toward the center.

It was little wonder this area was not guarded.

Humans were lighter, and smaller, than Kurii, and better adapted to this venture than would have been their larger, heavier, allies.

For a Kur it seemed clear this climb would be death.

For a human it might be possible, somehow.

It must be possible, somehow!

Agamemnon, Cabot was sure, in the dark gaming of war, had not anticipated humans intruding into this fearsome venue.

He moved another foot.

He felt the artificial gravity of the rotation seeming to push against him. The sensation was much like lying on a turning disk, from which one might be thrown free, but the consequence of a lost purchase here was not a slipping from the disk to the side, but rather analogous to a plunge from a cliff.

"Hold, hold,” whispered Cabot to the viscous sludge by which he was held to the steel. “Hold, hold!"

And he moved another foot.

"Hold,” he whispered. “Hold!"

Moment by moment, minute by minute, he inched his way toward the center of the cap.

Then, oddly, he felt less thrust against him.

He felt faint. He closed his eyes. He did not look back. He was briefly afflicted with a sensation of giddiness. He had the dreamlike sense that if he were to weigh himself the scale would be little depressed. Now it seemed hard to move against the adherent material with which he had smeared his body, his hands and clothing. It was now as if it were somehow anchoring him, almost balloonlike to the steel. Now it seemed less a salvation than an encumbrance, a nuisance. Then, sensing the possibility, he stood on the steel, his head pointing toward the opposing cap, far distant, almost invisible, at the other end of the world. The sensation now was almost identical to that of the shuttles, in free flight amongst the cylinders. He took several more steps and suddenly his feet left the steel, and he turned about, helplessly, in the air, and he spun about, and tried to thrash toward the steel, and floated some feet from it. His body was suddenly covered with sweat. Then a movement of the atmosphere brushed him, and he twisted his body to it, and waited, and waited, and, in a few seconds, one hand, covered with the adhesive substance used in his climb, struck against the steel, and he pulled himself down to it. Then, keeping at least one limb, a foot or hand, on the steel, he made his way to the arsenal gate.

The plan was to attempt the ascent to the arsenal, to determine its feasibility. If it proved feasible it was then intended for others to follow, and join the leaders, others who would, amongst themselves, bring up tools, and rope, that the gate might be forced, and the stored weapons brought down, to waiting others, who would then act as scouts and guards, bearers and porters.

But, as Cabot now saw, there was no need for these arrangements.

The gate of the arsenal was open, and, as he soon determined, the arsenal itself was empty.

"Hail Agamemnon,” thought Cabot, bitterly, “Theocrat of the World, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One. It is little wonder, dear foe, that so many pledge you their heart, their steel, their blood. You are a leader amongst leaders. I wonder if you are mortal. Are you not more than man, more than Kur?"

Cabot lifted his head, suddenly, peering outward from the threshold of the barren arsenal behind him, now no more than an abandoned storeroom, its racks and shelves empty.

Approaching the arsenal, hundreds of yards away, were two figures, one seemingly several yards in advance of the other. From the distance they resembled slowly flying insects. As they approached they more resembled the winged vart, as it might appear if slowly, oddly, in an almost dreamlike progression, coursing the axis. As they neared, discernible became the slow, rhythmic beat of gigantic canvas wings, harnessed to massive bodies.

Cabot shaded his eyes.

The canvas wings sought their purchase in the world's atmosphere, thrusting against it, cleaving it, as they neared.

"Grendel!” called Cabot, as Lord Grendel folded his wings and gently came to rest on the ledge beside him.

"It is empty?” said Lord Grendel, regarding the bareness behind Cabot. His voice rang in the hollowness of the arsenal.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"We are followed,” said Lord Grendel.

At that point Statius alighted on the ledge. He was covered with blood.

"They were waiting for us at the arsenal,” said Lord Grendel.

"The arsenal seemed open, even unguarded,” said Statius.

"We should have been warned,” said Lord Grendel.

"Then suddenly purple scarves, with power weapons, sprang into view, and fired."

"It was a well-devised ambush,” said Lord Grendel. “But we were fools. We thought Agamemnon's minions were overconfident, unsuspecting, otherwise deployed. We were fools."

"It seems they took us more seriously than we had supposed,” said Cabot.

"We lost many,” said Lord Grendel. “It was a slaughter."

"Some fell here,” said Cabot. “I sent the others back."

"Others are below?” said Lord Grendel.

"Most,” said Cabot. “Your quiver is empty."

"They fired from behind metal shields,” said Lord Grendel. “We could do little."

"You have a bow, arrows,” said Cabot, to Statius.

"Few of the birds of death are left,” said Statius.

"Behold!” said Cabot, pointing down the axis.

"Purple scarves,” said Lord Grendel, resignedly.

It should be understood that the control of the wings, as they are commonly constructed, requires the use of both arms, and, resultantly, it is difficult, and, in some cases, impractical, to use certain weapons while in flight.

"Flee,” said Cabot. “Save yourselves."

"For what?” asked Lord Grendel.

"For Pyrrhus, for Arcesilaus, for the war,” said Cabot.

"There are too many,” said Lord Grendel. “Here, and elsewhere."

"We shall flight against these,” said Statius, “and meet them Kur to Kur, tooth to tooth, claw to claw."

"There are too many,” said Cabot. “They do not know I am here. Lord Statius, give me your bow, your quiver. Then mask my presence."

"Lord Statius?” asked Statius.

"Now!” said Cabot.

"Ah,” said Lord Grendel, his features twisting into an expression of pleasure.

"It will not be only Agamemnon who can arrange surprises,” said Cabot, grimly.

He took the bow from Statius, and the quiver, and grasped four arrows and the bow in his left hand, and set an arrow to the string. Other arrows he put in his belt, and others he put against the gate, at hand.

"Some may have hand weapons,” said Lord Grendel, quietly.

"I understand,” said Cabot.

Such weapons may be most easily used while winged.

"Do not activate your translator,” said Lord Grendel to Statius.

And so Lords Grendel and Statius stood, seemingly convinced that further flight was futile, wings spread, in the great threshold of the barren arsenal.

As the translators were not activated Cabot could only conjecture the exact nature of the exchanges between the purple scarves, of which there were ten, and Lords Grendel and Statius. The general nature of the converse, however, was surely clear. Moreover, Cabot, in his time in the world, had become adept at reading not only the body language of Kurii, which is little harder, if at all, to decipher than that of the larl or sleen, but, to a large extent, also, the character or import of what was being said, for example, challenge, anger, cajolery, impatience, command, and so on. Certainly he was sure that the leader of the purple scarves, from his utterances, was insolent, contemptuous, excited, and flushed with triumph. He also heard a rattle of chain, and gathered that his friends were to be conducted back, securely tethered, to the mercies of Agamemnon.

Cabot, shielded by the wings of his friends, sensed that the purple scarves were very close, no more than feet from the ledge itself.

Cabot heard the clawed feet of a purple scarf touch the ledge, and then, rather as the two leaves of a mighty gate might swing open, outwardly, the left wing of Lord Grendel, and the right wing of Lord Statius, swung toward their bodies, and Cabot released the first shaft, point-blank, through the chest of the officer, the fletching literally disappearing into the body, and half the shaft emerging from the back, and a length of chain clattered to the metal flooring of the ledge, and a second shaft left the string, and no more than two Ehn later another, and then another. At the same time Lords Grendel and Statius pushed from the ledge and with a blow of the wide canvas wings were each entangled with a foe. One of the purple scarves freed an arm from the wing harness and groped for a hand weapon, as he spun about, loose, helplessly, in the atmosphere. By the time he could free it from its holster another arrow had found its mark and the weapon seemed to float away, as might an object in water. Cabot saw blood streaming loose in the atmosphere, like a shredding silken ribbon, and Lord Grendel, eyes half blinded with blood, spit away throat and bone. Statius and his foe grappled, spinning in the atmosphere. Cabot scanned the remaining foes who had seemed startled, almost paralyzed, at the sudden appearance of his threat. Such are commonly left to last. The foe who cries out, registering the threat, too, has hesitated. His priority is thus less than the silent foe who reacts instantly, seeking cover, drawing a weapon, such things. Needless to say, the officer had not had time to react, in any way. To be sure, other things being equal, an officer is usually given priority as a target. Accordingly, in situations of danger, as indicated earlier, at least among Kurii, insignia are often removed, salutes left unexchanged, and so on. Too, as earlier referenced, such practices are also commonly in effect amongst Gorean warriors. And, one supposes, such practices are not likely to be unfamiliar to any, whatever the world, who adopt the profession of arms, who tread the ways of war.

Statius, his teeth fastened in the shoulder of his howling foe, brought up his hind legs, ripping and gouging, tearing, digging, within his foe's belly, a reflex perhaps genetically coded in long-vanished, unspeeched ancestors of the modern Kur, ancestors not yet Kurii. This modality of aggression, interestingly, frequently characterizes the feeding attack of the smaller Gorean forest panther. It is not unknown amongst larls and sleen, but the sleen usually strikes for the throat and the larl, where practical, particularly after it has bled and exhausted its prey, bites through the back of the neck.

Cabot saw loops of gut loose amongst the beating wings, and Statius’ foe, striking Statius’ jaws away from his shoulder with a mighty blow, turned about, erratically, and tried to strike away. Cabot saw fur and meat in Statius’ jaws. He was too weak to pursue his foe who fled, a rope of gut dangling behind him.

Cabot drew one of the arrows from his belt, and then leaped aside as a line of fire, narrow and perfect, as straight as a beam of light, seemed to stand still beside him, quiet in the air, and then, at the back of the arsenal, yards behind him, where it touched, a metal wall blackened, and drops of molten steel suddenly burst forth and floated in the atmosphere, as might have oil droplets in water.

To free the weapon, a shoulder weapon, the Kur had had to abandon his control of the wings, and he floated, without control, some yards from the ledge.

Lord Grendel thrust up the weapon with his wing, and then, spinning about, close to his foe, who floated before him, had one hand loose from the wing harness and tore the weapon from the Kur's grasp, and the Kur recovered control of the wings, and backed away, warily. Then its eyes grew wide. Lord Grendel had the weapon in one hand, had braced it against his chest, and leveled it. Cabot saw the chest cavity of the Kur disappear, as though punched into nothingness.

Two Kurii remained, other than the figure retreating in the distance.

Neither attempted to free their weapon.

Cabot aligned an arrow.

"No,” said Lord Grendel, in his Gorean.

He then spoke to the Kurii, and they, carefully, removed their weapons, and thrust them, floating, softly, toward the arsenal gate.

Lord Grendel, transferring his weapon to his harnessed arm, with his free hand flicked on his translator, that Cabot might follow what was said.

Seven Kurii, dead, were in the vicinity, winged, inert, floating, in the gravity-free zone. Another, he who had fled, he muchly eviscerated by Statius, had died within moments. The body, harnessed within the wings, was now little more than some fifty yards from the ledge, drifting aimlessly, eccentrically, sometimes rolling over, a length of its entrails wrapped about a leg.

"Now you will kill us,” said one of the two Kurii at bay.

"No,” said Lord Grendel. “There has been enough killing."

"Kill us,” said the other Kur. “Agamemnon will have us killed, if we return without the weapons."

"Free your hands,” said Lord Grendel. Then he spoke to Statius. “Return to them their weapons."

The hair on the back of Cabot's neck rose.

Statius, not questioning Lord Grendel, slipped his harness, and moved the weapons to the two Kurii.

"Lower your bow,” said Lord Grendel, to Cabot, who, however reluctantly, complied.

Lord Grendel then turned his back on the two Kurii, and, with one sweep of the wings, returned to the ledge.

"We have escaped,” said Lord Grendel to the two Kurii, without turning to face them.

"Yes,” said one of them. “You have escaped."

The two Kurii regarded one another, and then reslung their weapons, regained their harnessing, turned about, and moved away from the platform.

"They could have killed you, all of us,” said Cabot.

"True,” said Lord Grendel.

"Why did they not do so?” asked Cabot.

"They are Kur,” said Lord Grendel.

"I do not understand,” said Cabot.

"Would you have done so?” asked Lord Grendel.

"No,” said Cabot.

"You see,” said Lord Grendel. “You, too, are Kur."

"What now is to be done?” asked Cabot.

"We will gather the weapons,” said Lord Grendel.

"Agamemnon would have killed you, instantly, without a thought,” said Cabot.

"He is not Kur,” said Lord Grendel.

"He is Kur,” said Cabot.

"Not every Kur is Kur,” said Lord Grendel.

Cabot was silent.

"We will take you to the surface,” said Lord Grendel.

"They were waiting for us at the arsenal,” said Statius. “They knew we were coming."

"Clearly,” said Lord Grendel.

"You believe Agamemnon to have been informed of our plans?"

"Certainly,” said Grendel.

"He may have anticipated such a move,” said Cabot.

"It is unlikely,” said Lord Grendel, “that without intelligence he would have anticipated, and prepared so carefully for, even to the removal of guards, so unlikely and bold a stroke as an attempt on the arsenal itself."

"Even we ourselves,” said Statius, “regarded our attack as little more than an act of desperation, if not of madness. We expected to battle through legions of guards, in a venture in all likelihood foredoomed."

"Agamemnon is shrewd,” said Cabot. “The devising of such a trap would be well within his ken."

"How would he have known where to lay it, and when?” asked Statius.

"I do not know,” said Cabot.

"The Lady Bina,” said Statius, “fled the camp, days ago."

"Aii!” said Cabot, softly.

"It is true,” said Lord Grendel.

"She had overheard our plans,” said Statius.

"How could she escape from the camp,” asked Cabot. “Was she not belled. Was she not chained at night?"

"She slipped away from the camp master, before her chaining, perhaps with the assistance of a confederate,” said Statius. “As her hands were not bound behind her, as in our treks, she could hold the bell silent."

"You suspect her of revealing our plans?” said Cabot.

"Certainly,” said Statius.

"Agamemnon might have foreseen such an attack,” said Cabot.

"There was treachery, clearly,” said Lord Grendel. “Intelligence had described the security at the arsenal. It was only after the escape of the Lady Bina, and shortly prior to our attack, that it seemed to change, as though Agamemnon had decided at last, in virtue of our weakness, that such precautions were no longer necessary."

"And the ambush was laid,” said Cabot.

"In all its deadliness,” said Statius.

"Perhaps she is innocent,” said Cabot.

"It would not be the first time she has betrayed Kurii and others to Agamemnon,” said Lord Grendel.

"We will have her blood,” said Statius.

"Even now,” said Lord Grendel, “in robes and veils of beauty, she doubtless banquets with Agamemnon."

"We do not know that,” said Cabot.

"I do not think we will see her again,” said Lord Grendel.

"If we do,” said Statius, “it will be the privilege of Lord Grendel to gouge out and roast the first ounce of her flesh, to be eaten before her eyes."

With proper surgical attention this mode of execution can be extended over several days, before the more grievous tortures are inflicted, with the needles, and irons, the tiny flames, the dollops of acid, and such.

"I will defend her, to the death,” said Lord Grendel.

"She is guilty,” said Statius.

"Yes,” said Lord Grendel.

"Then, dear friend,” said Statius, “you will die with her."

"It is not clear she is guilty,” said Cabot.

"Why do you say that?” asked Statius.

"I do not know,” said Cabot. “It is something which continues to elude me, a small something, a something I cannot place, a something that has troubled me, like a whisper not really heard, now and again."

"Perhaps,” said Statius, “when, at the side of Agamemnon, in regalia, a tiara upon her brow, she presides over a thousand executions, those of our fellows, Kur and human, you might be convinced."

"Doubtless,” said Cabot.

"Do you love her?” asked Statius.

"No,” said Cabot. “But in my way I am fond of her. Another may love her."

"Who?” asked Statius.

"Another,” said Cabot.

"Lord Grendel?” said Statius.

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"The evidence, the incidents, the circumstances, a thousand details, are incontrovertible,” said Statius.

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"We will take you to the surface,” said Lord Grendel. “My dear Statius, will you gather the weapons."

"Yes,” said Statius.