Bunduki (Bunduki Series Book One) (17 page)

Although the two women and four
men sat animals which were superior to the attendant’s mount, the
nature of their surroundings was against them in their efforts to
overtake him. Skilled riders as they all were, none was willing to
exhibit the complete disregard for danger displayed by the small
man as he guided his fast-moving
grar-gatah
through the trees.

Elidor and Sabart began to draw
ahead of the male
banar-gatah
riders. Not only were they lighter, but their armament also
gave them an advantage. Each had a short throwing spear, which Dawn
had not been able to see from her side of the chasm. It was carried
in two loops that were attached to the bottom of the saddle’s left
side skirt so as to leave the owner’s hands free. The men’s nine
foot lances could not be carried in such a fashion. Ideal as they
were for hunting or fighting on the plains, the lances were poorly
adapted for use in even comparatively open woodland.

Running swiftly through the trees,
Dawn could hear the hooves of her pursuers’ mounts and sensed that
one was approaching much faster than the rest. She fought down the
temptation to look behind, knowing that she must devote all her
attention to watching where she was going. At that moment, she was
in two minds over the wisdom of having left her bow and arrows with
the injured Telonga hunter. Without them, she could move at a
faster pace and more easily. However, she did not have them to use
if she needed to defend herself.

About fifty yards ahead, there
was an extensive area of fairly dense bushes. Dawn made for it,
growing more and more aware that one of her pursuers was rapidly
closing with her. For
all that, she resisted the temptation to increase
her pace. If she did so prematurely, she would run herself into
such a state of exhaustion that she would collapse. Instead, she
scanned the wall of foliage. It would offer her concealment and
could not be ridden through.

First, however, Dawn had to find a way
to enter the bushes!

Having done so, she had to reach it
before the first of the riders caught up with her!

Not far to her right, Dawn detected
the entrance to a game trail. It was fairly wide, probably having
been made by rhinoceros, elephants, or buffalo for she had seen
evidence that all three species occupied the woodland. If she was
to make use of the track, her pursuers would be able to ride along
it.

Searching for an alternative, the girl
saw that there was a smaller path on her left. Unfortunately, it
was at a greater distance than the one at her right.

Would Dawn have sufficient time to
reach the more suitable entrance?

The hooves were getting
very
close
now!

‘
Don’t kill her, damn you!’
screamed an irate feminine voice from beyond the girl’s nearest
pursuer.

Hearing the words, Dawn chanced a
quick glance over her shoulder. She had expected the leading rider
to be fairly near, but not in such close proximity. It was, as she
had guessed, the eagle’s attendant. Rage and hatred distorted his
face as he bore down on her as swiftly as his hard-driven zebra
could travel. His right hand was grasping a sword ready for
use.

Dawn doubted, from his expression,
whether the man would heed the woman’s shouted instructions. So she
started to think how she might avoid being cut down.

Having seen the attendant draw his
sword and being aware of how bitterly he had resented the death of
his eagle, Elidor had screamed out her warning. When it did not
appear to have any effect, she turned her head to glare at the
smaller but equally voluptuous woman who was riding stirrup to
stirrup with her.

‘
If
that damned
grar-gatah
kills her, I’ll see him sent to the Quagga God!’ the
brunette warned her rival. ‘Dryaka wants her alive!’

‘
So does
Charole,’ Sabart answered and looked back at the male
banar-gatah
riders. ‘Chanak!
Make him stop!’

With the man who had been addressed
bawling a warning, the two women swerved to pass on either side of
a tree’s trunk. They did not attempt to resume the conversation
when they came in sight of each other again. Instead, they watched
as the attendant drew closer to the fleeing girl. From what they
could see, he had no intention of taking advice or orders and had
forgotten that both the High Priest and the Protectress wanted her
captured alive and uninjured if possible.

Measuring the rapidly diminishing
distance between himself and the girl, the attendant rose on his
stirrups so that he could get added force behind a blow. In his
fury at seeing her, he had completely forgotten that his party were
supposed to take her prisoner and was preparing to cut her down
with his sword.

Waiting until the head of his zebra
was almost level with her left shoulder, thus approaching the ideal
position from which to deliver a slash at her, for she believed he
might choose to ignore the commands that had been yelled at
him—Dawn suddenly changed direction. Implementing the scheme which
she had thought out, she swerved in front of the animal. In
passing, she whipped her left hand around to slap the near side of
the zebra’s muzzle and let out the most hideous shriek she could
manage after having run so far and fast.

The unexpected blow and the
yell startled the little
grar-gatah
and caused it to shy. Tossing its head wildly, it
threw up its front legs and went into a rearing turn. Tensed ready
to deliver a blow that would have cleft open his victim’s skull,
the attendant watched her disappear ahead of his mount. A moment
later he was almost toppled backwards by its erratic behavior. Only
by dropping his sword and grabbing the horn in both hands, while
his legs clamped tightly against the saddle’s skirts, did he
prevent himself from falling onto the rack that had been used as a
perch for the eagle. Recovering his equilibrium with an effort that
demanded every bit of his riding skill, he found that he was being
carried away from the girl. Muttering invective, he reined the
grar-
gatah
around in a hurried and brutal fashion. By the time he was
once more facing her, she was far beyond his reach.

Satisfied that she had averted the
danger of being struck down by the man’s sword, Dawn lengthened her
stride. With the sheath of the Randall knife slapping against her
bare thigh, she built up her speed as if she had been sprinting for
the finishing line in a foot-race. Conscious of her pursuers’ angry
shouts, she reached the bushes. The mouth of the second game trail,
towards which her evasion had allowed her to head, was barely wide
enough for her to enter. With the foliage brushing her arms on
either side, she knew that the Mun-Gatahs would not be able to ride
in after her. On foot, she was sure that she could hold her
own.

As Dawn had expected, the bushes were
higher than the top of her head and the trail wound in such a
fashion that she was soon hidden from the entrance. Moving on at a
slower pace, she replenished her lungs and wiped the perspiration
from her brow. She did not allow herself to grow over confident and
she remained alert for any evidence that the pursuit was being
continued.

Leaning over, without
slackening his
grar-gatah’s
pace, the attendant scooped up his sword from
where it had fallen, its point stuck in the ground. Then he made
for the opening into which the girl had disappeared. The rest of
his party were rapidly approaching but he ignored them. Seeing that
there was no way of riding after her, he sprang from his saddle. He
felt uneasy, for the girl had already passed out of sight and he
had the Mun-Gatahs’ inborn distrust of thickly overgrown terrain.
However, hatred overrode his other emotions and he plunged
forward.

‘
Warn
him not to kill her, Sabart!’ Elidor ordered, being determined to
fix the blame on the other woman if the attendant repeated his
attempted disobedience of their leaders’ wishes.

‘
Take her
alive, Shami!’ Sabart shouted, knowing what had prompted the
brunette’s words.
‘If you kill her, I’ll have you and all your
family given to the Quagga God!’

For all the notice he took, the
attendant might have been stone deaf. Without so much as a glance
at his companions as they dashed up, he went along the track beyond
their range of vision.

Bringing their
banar-gatahs
to a halt at the
edge of the bushes, the two women gazed at the mouth of the track.
They did not offer to dismount, but waited for their four male
companions to join them.

‘
Can you see anything of the
girl, Elidor?’ asked the senior of the High Priest’s adherents,
standing on his stirrups as he tried to peer over the
bushes.

‘
No, Mador,’ the brunette
answered. ‘Charole’s man has gone in after her. If he catches her,
he’ll kill her. Lord Dryaka doesn’t want her dead.’

‘
I’ve
tried shouting to him, but he’s so angry he won’t listen,’
Sabart protested petulantly and looked in a pointed fashion at the
rival faction. ‘Somebody should go in and make him do as he’s
told.’

‘
He’s
Charole
’s
man,’ Mador pointed out, the words having been aimed
chiefly at him. ‘So if he kills her.
’

‘
He’s not
likely to catch her in there, she’s used to that
kind of country,’
Chanak answered, as leader of the Protectress’s faction. Like the
other man, he did not relish the thought of entering the narrow
trail. ‘We’d better go around and be waiting for her when she comes
out.’

‘
The bushes
look as if they go for a fair way in each
direction
,’ Mador objected. ‘Even if she goes straight through,
she’ll probably have left before we get to the other
side.’

‘
She’s not
likely to stay in there, Shanu will drive her out even if he
doesn’t catch her
,’ Chanak countered. ‘I’m going
around.’

‘
We’ll leave a
man each to watch this side, then the rest of us can split up and
go around
,’ Mador suggested. ‘Come on. She’ll get away for sure if
we sit talking.’

With that, the High Priest’s male and
female adherents turned to the right. Leaving their companion,
Elidor and Mador rode off at a trot.

‘
Stay here,
Stafak!’ Chanak ordered, swinging his
banar-gatah
to the left.

‘
I hope that
fool doesn’t kill her
,’ Sabart remarked, nodding towards the bushes as
she and Chanak went along the edge. ‘But he will if he catches her.
If
that
happens, none of them must get back alive to tell Dryaka
about it.’

Walking swiftly along the
trail, which was widening slightly, Dawn wondered what to do for
the best. Clearly the Mun-Gatahs were determined to capture her. So
they would come in after her, or try to prevent her from leaving
until she was driven out by hunger and thirst. Most probably they
would adopt the
former alternative. The latter would take far too long and
was likely to offer her too many opportunities to
escape.

Even as she came to that conclusion,
±he girl heard certain significant sounds on the path behind her.
Her bare feet made no noise, so she had little difficulty in
detecting those made by a pursuer’s sandals.

One, or more?

Turning around, Dawn could not see
whoever was following her. However, she decided it was only one
man. Probably the eagle’s attendant. The expression of hatred on
his face when he was trying to kill her from the back of his zebra
suggested that he would not have given up because the attempt had
failed.

Swinging around and walking on, Dawn
placed her right hand on the Sambar staghorn ‘finger-grip’ handle
of her Randall knife. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of
taking cover and springing on the man as he went by. Then her
civilized instincts revolted against such an act. Instead, she
thought there might be another course of action that would serve
her purpose.

While talking as they had
walked to the stream, At-Vee had expressed much concern over
Joar-Fane being alone in the land of the ‘Hairy People’. From his
description, which she suspected might have been somewhat
highly-colored regarding their bloodthirsty habits and ferocity,
she believed that he was referring to the
Mangani.
He had claimed that all of his people
feared them. That might apply even more to a nation of plains’
dwellers like the Mun-Gatah, provided they knew of the ‘Hairy
People’ and were aware that they were very close to that mysterious
race’s domain.

Deciding that she had nothing
to lose by putting her idea to the test, for the man’s footsteps
warned he was coming nearer, Dawn halted and tossed back her head.
From her lips burst the distress cry of a
she-Mangani.
While the female’s call lacked the
deep and awesome menace of a bull’s challenge or victory roars, it
was still an ear-tingling and eerie sound.