The Mountains Of Brega

Chapter 5

Blade had done his best to leave the women no equipment for anything except a hasty retreat from the forest, and therefore no alternative. And he hoped that the threat to kill his prisoners would keep them from sending any other hunting parties after him.

Once out of sight of the campfire, he stopped long enough to pull on the clothes and buckle on the various weapons. As he had expected, the tunic and trousers were a snug fit. But they were less uncomfortable than running around the forest with the chilly breezes, working on his bare skin. And the weapons would enable him not only to defend himself, but also to hunt down the food he and his prisoner would need to keep them alive until-

Until what? As he finished dressing, Blade realized that for once he had no very clear idea of what to do or where to go. This land, it seemed, was called Brega. The wild men were called-at least by the huntresses-the Senar. The huntresses seemed to prey successfully on the Senar, using them for sport, sex, and food. But Blade had no idea how many of the hunting parties or of the Senar might be in the forest that stretched for some unknown number of miles around him. And he had even less idea of what might lie beyond the forest.

Blade shrugged and realized that he could not answer any such questions now. He would have to talk to his prisoner before he could hope to understand the way things were in Brega. He bent down and once more hoisted the woman over his shoulder. Then he strode away into the night.

He kept on the move until dawn began turning the sky high above from black to blue to gray to pale pink. The breeze died away, and the birds began to whistle and chirp in the trees overhead. Although his mouth was turning dry, Blade kept on for another hour, until it was broad daylight. At that point he came to a small stream, bubbling out from a mossy patch under a bush. This seemed as good a stopping point as any and better than most. Gently he lowered the woman to the ground, almost gasping at the relief to his half-numb shoulder. The woman was small and comparatively light, but there is no really light weight for carrying seven miles through a dark forest on one shoulder.

As the woman touched the ground, her eyes opened and her breathing quickened. But she made no effort to rise or even move. Blade took off his tunic, soaked one sleeve in the spring, and mopped her face with it. Then he rummaged in her pack until he found a small tin cup, filled it with water, and gave it to her. She practically snatched the cup from his hands, spilling half the water in the process. She gulped the rest thirstily, like an animal, without taking her eyes off Blade. He saw there was stark animal terror in those eyes, and almost by reflex his hand moved toward the hilt of his sword. The girl looked ready to risk almost anything to get away-or failing that, to kill him.

He would have liked to stay here long enough to find some way of reassuring the girl. But he still wasn't sure that they were safe from meeting other parties of huntresses or other parties of Senar. Blade didn't care to risk a fight with the huntresses, and he did not really want to fight the unfortunate wild men. The Senar seemed to have enough troubles of their own without his adding to them.

So he once more dug into the pack and pulled out one of the weighted throwing lines. Cutting it into pieces with his knife, he tied the girl's hands behind her. Then he tied the other, longer piece around her neck.

Finally he packed up all the loose gear and hauled the girl to her feet.

«We must go on,» he said. Blade spoke slowly and carefully, without raising his voice, as he might have spoken to a frightened child. He did not trust the girl yet, nor would he do so for quite a while. But he wanted to get it across to her that he was not going to treat her the way the Senar no doubt treated captured women. The terror in the girl's eyes told him how vicious that treatment must be.

«We must go on,» he repeated, in the same tone. «I do not want to meet any more of the women of Brega for a long time. But I am not of the Senar. So I do not want to meet them either. You should not try to run away. If you do, you might meet the Senar. If you did, you would have nothing to fight them with. And I would not be there to kill them and save you. I am a hunter in my own lands, and I can use bow and sword. I will protect you from the Senar, I promise you, as long as you stay with me.»

At this point the girl burst into half-hysterical sobbing and dropped to her knees in front of Blade. When her sobbing had subsided to faint whimpering, she was able to choke out, «Thank you, for Mother Kina. Thank you, for Mother Kina. You are not of the Senar, not of the Senar.»

«No, I am not of the Senar,» Blade repeated firmly. «And I will not let them catch you or harm you. Now stand up, and let us go away from here, before the Senar find us.»

Those last words made the girl spring up as if she had been stung by bees. Blade grabbed the end of the rope around her neck and wound the last foot of it around his hand. Then he nodded, and the girl stepped out to the full length of the rope and turned away into the trees.

However careless they might be, the huntresses of Brega were certainly in good condition. The girl kept pace with Blade almost every foot of the day's travel, with no sign of effort or strain except for a sheen of sweat on her tanned skin. Blade kept them going all day, with stops every two hours or so for rest and water. He took advantage of one of those stops to shoot two large black squirrel-like beasts that incautiously peered down on him from a branch above.

They had to keep going for nearly an hour longer than Blade had intended in order to reach water. It was nearly dark when they found a small, rushing stream and Blade indicated they would make camp for the night. The girl looked as though she could have gone on for several more hours. But the muscles of Blade's legs were beginning to develop hard and painful knots. He sat down with a sigh of relief.

After a few minutes' rest he rose, tethered the girl to a branch, and began collecting firewood. The bank of the stream was littered with dry needles and wind-fallen branches, and it did not take him long. A few sparks from the flint lighter in the pack, and the needles flared into crackling orange flames. When the fire was going well, Blade pulled out the two giant squirrels and began skinning and gutting them.

The girl watched him intently, never taking her eyes off the fast-moving knife. Poor girl, thought Blade. She's still wondering if I'm going to start on her with the knife after I finish the squirrels.

Blade finished the first squirrel, thrust it onto a stick, and braced the stick over the fire. Then he took the knife and stepped over to the girl. She turned pale under her tan, and a cold sweat of stark terror broke out all over her.

«Would you like to cut up the other one?» he asked.

The girl jumped as though Blade had actually stabbed her, and stared up at him, eyes wide open.

«Hold up your hands,» said Blade, firmly but quietly. Numbly, the girl obeyed. With two quick slashes, Blade sliced through the cords binding her wrists. She gave a little gasp of surprise and held her hands up in front of her, staring at them as though she had never seen them before. She wiggled her half-numb fingers, whimpering at the pain of circulation returning to them.

«Would you like to cut up the other animal?» Blade repeated. Then he took the knife by the point and laid it down on the ground, hilt facing the girl. At the same time he stepped back until he was outside easy stabbing range. He would trust the girl only up to a point.

Slowly and tentatively the girl reached out for the knife until her fingers caressed the bone hilt. Senar bone? Blade wondered. «Yes,» he said. «You may take it. I think you know how to use it.»

There was a grunt from the girl that might have been the word «Yes.» Then her hand clutched the knife and snatched it up from the ground. She held it stiffly at arm's length for a moment. Blade watched her carefully, ready to snatch it back from her if she made any move to use it on him-or on herself. Then slowly her other hand reached out for the squirrel, caught it by the tail, and dragged it to within reach of the knife. Blade could not keep back a sigh of relief. The woman heard it, looked up at him again, and managed a weak smile. Then she bent down and went to work on the squirrel.

The squirrel meat was tough and gamy, but it was juicy and there was plenty of it. Blade and the girl each finished off one of the squirrels, then washed their hands and faces in the stream. After that Blade piled more wood on the fire and sat down cross-legged on the needles. Once again, he was careful to sit far enough away from the girl that she would have no chance for a sudden attack.

«Now,» he said cheerfully. «What is your name? I cannot go on calling you 'woman' for all the time that we will be together in this forest.»

The girl's upper teeth sank into her lower lip for a moment. Then she said, «My name is Wyala.»

«Wyala.» Blade rolled the name around on his tongue for much longer than was really necessary.

Then he said, «My name is Blade. I have traveled into Brega from a distant land.»

«That I can see-now,» said Wyala. «You are not of the Senar. They are all hairy and thick in their bodies. And when they capture a woman of the city, they-«She was unable to finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. The expression on her face told Blade enough.

«Yes, I saw the Senar that your band captured,» said Blade. «And I saw all the things you did to them.» Wyala started. «Yes. I was hiding in a tree above the clearing where you fought and captured the Senar. I saw what you did to them.» Wyala's face puckered up as though she were going to cry again and slowly turned bright red. Blade sat in silence, letting Wyala stew in her own embarrassment.

Finally the girl raised her head and stared at Blade almost defiantly. «Why should we not treat the Senar so? They are enemies to all who follow the Law of Mother Kina.»

«Do you treat the men of the city of Brega that way also?» asked Blade. He could not quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

«The men of the city?» Wyala looked confused for a moment. «Oh-the breeding males. No, we do not treat them so. Why should we? They are shut up in the House of Fertility and only the guardians ever see them. And a guardian who mistreated one of her charges would be cast down from her post, perhaps even sentenced to the arena. But no guardian would ever do anything like that. They are sworn to Mother Kina by an oath much stronger than the hunters take. We can treat the Senar as we choose.» The note of defiance was back in her voice.

«So I see,» said Blade. He saw a good deal more than he was willing to admit to Wyala. As he had suspected, he was in a dimension of women. Or at least one ruled by women, where the only civilized males were the breeding males in the House of Fertility in the city. He frowned. Communication with anybody in this dimension was going to be difficult, he suspected. The Senar were below the level of savages and would have the savage's belief that the stranger was an enemy. The women of the city-the worshipers of Mother Kina-were a good deal more civilized. But they would be almost as likely as the Senar to shoot first and ask questions afterwards. Their religion would require it, at least if the stranger was a man. There were times, Blade realized, when a woman companion might be more useful than another man. He made a mental note to mention the point when and if he returned to Home Dimension.

But for the moment he was alone in the woman-ruled dimension of Brega, and he would have to make his way through it as best he could. He had done it well enough sixteen times before. Barring extraordinary ill luck, he could see no reason for not doing so a seventeenth time. And, he reflected wearily, an eighteenth, and nineteenth, and so on and on until his luck ran out or they finally found someone else to go-man, woman, child, chimpanzee, or whatever!

He looked at Wyala. «I should like to travel to the city and speak with those who follow the Law of Mother Kina. Although men rule in my own country, we respect the gods of others.» Blade smiled in grim amusement at his own remark. At this rate, he should have enough practice at pandering to local prejudices to run for Parliament when he retired!

Wyala's mouth dropped open. «Men rule? How can that be? The Law of Mother Kina is that it cannot be so. It cannot. Men are filled with the killing madness that brought on the disaster to end the old days of Brega. The disaster purged them from the world, and Mother Kina now rules.»

«Nonetheless, it is otherwise in my homeland,» said Blade. «Perhaps your men were different. But in my homeland the men have no madness in them, at least no more than the women. The disaster has not yet come, and both men and women would laugh at the Law of Mother Kina.»

«No,» said Wyala again. «No, no, no.» The last word was almost a scream. «Women-at the mercy of men-men thinking, speaking reasoned words-no,» she whimpered.

«Yes,» said Blade quietly. «It is so. And what is this nonsense about women 'at the mercy of men'? Why do you think they cannot both be thinking beings together? And even if men have women at their mercy — well, what of it? I had all eight of your band at my mercy last night. I could have snapped the necks and cut the throats of every last one of you and left you for the worms and the ants to strip to bare bones. And I could have used any or all of you for my pleasure, until I had had enough. But I did none of those things.

«And after I took you away I could have mistreated you even more easily. But I did not. All I did was tie you so that you could not escape or try to kill me. I saw that you were a fighting woman, and might do these things.»

Slowly, Wyala nodded. «Perhaps I believe you. But I do not know if the women of the city will believe you. If you go to the city, you will be killed before you even see its walls. I do not care how good a warrior you are. And»- she swallowed- «they will kill me also if I come with you.»

«Perhaps all you say is true,» said Blade sharply. «But what else are we supposed to do? Certainly we cannot go to the Senar. They would probably kill me just as fast as the women of the city would. They would certainly kill you, and do others things as well, since I could not protect you from hundreds of the Senar.»

«I know,» said Wyala miserably. «But-to take a wild man who is not a wild man-to the city itself-they would not believe that such a thing as you are exists. They would think that you were one of the Senar in disguise, trying to get into the city so that you could run wild and kill and rape. And they would not listen to me long enough to save us. They wouldn't, they wouldn't, they wouldn't!» She was crying now, in frustration and despair at not being able to make Blade believe her.

There was no point in continuing the argument tonight. Blade sighed and moved over to sit beside Wyala, putting an arm around her heaving shoulders. At first the unaccustomed touch of a man's heavily muscled body made her start and stiffen. But after a minute or two she realized that there was no danger in Blade's touch. Her own arm went around his waist, and her head slipped down onto his shoulder. After a few minutes more, she was snuggling up against him as naturally as any girl of Home Dimension.

Wyala was warm and comfortable against Blade, but darkness had fallen now and it was getting chilly. He began to think of suggesting that they wrap themselves up in their cloaks and get some sleep. There would be another long day's travel tomorrow, wherever they decided to go.

Then Blade became aware that Wyala's free hand was reaching out to him. He had stripped off his tunic before dinner, and now her small fingers were fumbling their way over his bare skin. He could feel them twining the hair on his chest and pressing against the hard muscles of his stomach. They were not very expert fingers, but they were warm and gentle in their movements. Unmistakably, Blade began to feel the beginnings of arousal.

He did not move or speak. He was not at all sure Wyala knew what she was doing or where it might lead. He wanted to be sure. So he waited, and felt the fingers creep down across his stomach, and still lower. She made no effort to unlace the front of his trousers. But when she felt a swelling bulge under her fingers, she seemed to recognize it for what it was. Her fingers did not move away. Instead, they stayed and stroked and played. Blade began to find it harder and harder to stay motionless. His breathing began to quicken.

His arousal increased further, and now it was impossible to doubt that Wyala knew what she was doing and was doing it on purpose. Why didn't really matter-and Blade didn't really care.

Now his own arms went around Wyala from behind, cupping both her breasts. Even under the heavy fabric of her tunic their firm, full curves were exciting. His fingers tugged at the lacings of her tunic until its front gaped partway open, then slipped inside to play on her bare skin. Now she was aware of his hands moving on her, but said nothing. She twisted her body to give his hands more freedom to move and gave a little gasp as one finger curled around a nipple. The nipple promptly sprang to life, swelling up into a hard little nubbin that pressed against Blade's fingers. He cupped both breasts in his hands and heard her gasp more loudly. If Wyala was not an excited woman now, Blade had never seen one in his life.

Her fingers had stopped their work on his trousers as he began his on her breasts. But Wyala's excitement kept Blade's alive. He finished undoing the laces of her tunic and slipped it off her shoulders. She helped him get it the rest of the way off, then turned toward him, bare to the waist. Seen close up, Wyala's breasts were indeed full, a woman's breasts rather than a girl's, but a young woman. There was no sag or slump in the magnificent curves. The large, dark nipples stood up proud and high. Wyala arched her back to thrust her breasts almost into Blade's face, and he lowered his lips to brush her skin. He felt warmth and smelled good health in that skin.

As Blade's lips moved up and down Wyala's body, her hands went back to work on his trousers. Excitement rose in him again. It rose higher as Wyala undid the lacing of the trousers and unbuckled the belt. Her hands plunged down into Blade's groin as though she was plunging them into a basket of fruit. They still weren't very skilled hands, but what they lacked in skill they made up for in vigor.

Wyala pulled herself partly out of his arms and bent her own lips to run across Blade's skin. Those lips were warm and wet, and as they crept lower and lower on his body, Blade groaned. His hands reached out for her again, ran down the smooth skin of her back, and slipped down into her trousers. Her buttocks were as firm and sweetly rounded as her breasts. And when he moved his hands around to her groin, he found the thick tangle of hair there already dampening with her mounting passion.

Wyala seemed to take Blade's hands moving on her as a signal. With a graceful twisting of her body, she stood up and wriggled out of her trousers. One kick and they went flying across the clearing, nearly landing in the campfire. Both Blade and Wyala laughed out loud. Then Blade was also on his feet. But he had no chance to pull down his trousers. Wyala's hands clutched at them, dragging them down. As her hands worked on the trousers, they also stroked the inside of Blade's thighs and his massive, swollen organ. And where her hands went, a moment later her lips followed. Blade groaned again and wondered if Wyala knew how little of this men could really take. His own endurance was enormous, but there was such a thing as too much even for him.

But before they reached that point, Wyala took the initiative again. Snatching up the fallen trousers and tunics, she spread them on the ground, then lay back on them. She did not say anything coherent. By now she probably couldn't. But the expression on her face and her gasping breath and murmurs made it obvious that the time had come for her. Blade knelt down at her feet, gently pulled her legs apart, then moved forward, down-and in.

Wyala's face took on an unmistakable look of surprise as Blade slipped inside her. Even in his excitement, Blade remembered that the male organs of the Senar had been grotesquely lumpish and hairy. A normal set of male genitals inside her might be a novelty.

If there was any novelty, it certainly wasn't affecting Wyala's responses. Blade began with an unusual effort to go slowly, to make Wyala's introduction to normal sex as gentle as possible. He soon realized that he had no need to do anything of the kind. Wyala was almost sopping wet inside, and she locked arms and legs around him as if she wanted to drag him into her or flatten herself against him. Her hips writhed and wriggled in a steadily increasing tempo, jerking upward against him faster and faster.

Then in one explosive moment her hips increased their movements until they were almost vibrating. Her arms and legs tightened around Blade until he could hardly breathe, and her nails dug into his back until he felt as though he was being whipped. Her mouth opened and shut like a dying woman's, but nothing came out of it except gasps and little hisses. Blade felt her pelvic muscles jerking under his groin and her wet canal tightening around his own erection.

That tightening was all he needed to overcome the last bit of his self-control. All the built-up pressure came jetting out hotly into Wyala, and went on jetting.

Eventually both Blade and Wyala exhausted the last of their passion. Blade managed to find the energy to roll off the girl and lie down on the clothes beside her. They lay there motionless and silent for a few minutes. Then Blade found a little more energy, got up, and picked up the cloaks. He laid both on top of Wyala, then lay down again and crept in under them. Now that the burning heat of their common passion had vanished, the night's cold struck unpleasantly at their bare skins.

After a few minutes, Wyala stirred. She lay for a time staring at Blade. Then she rolled over against him, her body warm, soft, and comfortable against his. He put his arms around her, for her pleasure and for his.

«You are not of the Senar,» she said. The tone of voice was that of someone who has no more doubts.

«And you-you are not like a woman who has lived only among women,» said Blade with a grin. He had no doubts on that either.

Soon they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.