Bunduki (Bunduki Series Book One) (7 page)

‘
Bul-Mok
kill!’ the
Mangani
thundered, swinging the heavy weapon over his head
and lumbering forward.

Instantly, Bunduki brought the
bow to the shooting position and made his draw with smoothly
flowing speed. With the arrow at its anchor point, he sighted on
the centre of
Bul-Mok
’s
broad chest.

Still too far away for his club
to be of any use, the dominant
Manganis
life hung on a very delicate balance. If
any of his sons had made a move to help him, he would have died. As
it was, having no desire to kill him if it could be avoided, the
blond giant did not release the arrow. The three younger bulls
seemed content to leave matters in their father s hands.
Bul-Mok
’s
lack of concern over the threat of the arrow suggested that
such a weapon was unknown to him. If he was killed in what his sons
might regard as an inexplicable manner, they could be frightened
into making a mass attack. Even utilizing the benefits of the
bow-quiver for rapidity of reloading, or wielding his bowie
knife—which would probably be an equally unknown factor to
the
Mangani
—he doubted whether he would be able to fight off all three
of them. Certainly, while doing it, and in the event of being
successful, he would receive wounds which could incapacitate him
and prevent him-from continuing his search for Dawn until he had
recovered.

Bunduki decided that he could avert
the possibility by impressing them with his physical prowess. It
would have a far greater effect than would be achieved by killing
with a means that they might not be able to comprehend. To defeat
the dominant male with his bare hands was the best way to attain
his ends.

Changing his point of aim,
Bunduki loosed the arrow. It flashed forward to strike the bulbous
upper end of the club. Impaling it, the buff-colored fiber glass
shaft wrenched the weapon from
Bul-Mok
’s
hands. A startled, almost barking exclamation
burst from the dominant male’s lips and he sprang backwards in
alarm. Staring at the arrow, which was projecting through the head
of the club, the other three bulls retreated just as
hurriedly.

Having regained her breath and
discovered that she was still alive and unharmed, the girl had
remained in the crouching position, but she was now watching her
defender with awe and considerable interest. Although
her people told
stories about them, few could claim to have seen the ‘Hairy Men’
and then only from a distance and with the width of the Big River
between them. Certainly not even the most boastful could claim to
be able to speak the ‘Hairy Men’s’ language, yet the blond stranger
apparently could do so.

Knowing the purpose of the bow,
although she had never seen one as powerful as that held by her
giant rescuer, the girl had expected him to send its arrow into the
‘Hairy Man’s’ chest. She was puzzled when he deliberately contented
himself with knocking the club from the advancing bull’s hands.
What he did next changed her perturbation into active
alarm.

Without taking his eyes from
the
Mangani,
Bunduki laid his bow on the ground alongside the girl and
walked by her. To her horror, he made no attempt to draw the big
knife that was hanging from his belt.

‘
Go!’ the blond giant
ordered, pointing to the left side of the clearing.

Bul-Mok
had been afraid of the
intruders strange weapon, realizing that it had qualities beyond
anything his club or a branch-spear possessed. Seeing that
Tar-Ara
had laid it down,
the dominant male decided that he could take the chance of making
another attack. At six-foot-five, size and weight were in his
favor. So were the big canine teeth in his powerful jaws. Once he
came to close quarters, he would be avenged. With a menacing roar,
he bounded forward and his huge hands reached out ready to take
hold.

Watching
Bul-Mok
bearing down on him, Bunduki
felt confident of victory. The
Mangani
might have learned how to make and use
primitive weapons, but they obviously still relied upon brute
strength when fighting barehanded. With his very thorough education
in various forms of self defense and unarmed combat, the blond
giant knew a number of excellent ways to handle such bull-headed
tactics.

Taking a couple of long
strides, to make sure he was well clear of the girl, Bunduki
flashed up his hands to grasp
Bul-Mok
’s
right wrist. Turning the trapped hand palm upwards, he
pivoted swiftly until his back was to the
Mangani
and the elbow of the fur-covered arm
rested on his left shoulder. By sinking to his right knee and
levering on the arm, he catapulted
Bul-Mok
over him. Turning a half somersault, with
the blond giant still holding his wrist, the
Mangani
alighted on his back with a
bone-jarring thud. Nor were his troubles at an end.

Retaining his hold, Bunduki
stepped over the supine
Bul-Mok
and rolled him on to his stomach. Before the
winded
Mangani
recovered his breath or scattered wits, his captor had
dropped to ram both knees on to the base of his spine. Having done
so, Bunduki transferred his hands and cupped them under
Bul-Mok’s
chin. Interlacing
his fingers, he drew the head back and forced downwards with his
knees.

Massive muscles bulged and
writhed as the blond giant bent his victim’s spine in an agonizing
and dangerous fashion. Half-strangled, winded and partially
dazed,
Bul-Mok
could do no more than beat his fists futilely on the ground
in a frenzy of pain.

Even as Bunduki started to apply what
would have been the final, fatal pressure, he once more had the
sensation of being watched. Not just by the other occupants of the
clearing either, although they were taking a considerable interest
in what was going on. The scrutiny. seemed to be originating
elsewhere, possibly from among the trees that encircled the
clearing, but he refused to permit it to distract him. Instead of
trying to locate the unknown observers, he concentrated his
attention on matters closer at hand.

Showing an ever-increasing
excitement, the three young males—particularly
Bal-Tak
—watched their father’s predicament.
Squealing and grunting without the sounds forming understandable
words, they jumped up and down like excited gorillas or
chimpanzees. Despite that, they kept their distance. There could,
they all realized, be no intervention in such a conflict. As
Bul-Mok
had clearly
accepted the strange-looking white creature as a
Mangani,
it must be settled
between the two participants.

The younger brothers were
merely restive and excited, but
Bal-Tak
had an even deeper interest. Being second
in the line of the hierarchy, he could recognize the threat to his
status and position. If the strange white skin, who clearly knew
the ways of the
Mangani,
defeated
Bul-Mok—
which now seemed very likely—he could assume command of the
family. That would mean he became the dominant male whom
Bal-Tak
must eventually
challenge and overthrow to assume command.

Although possessing less than a
human being’s powers of reasoning,
Bal-Tak
’s
sentience warned him that, being younger,
Tar-Ara
would be much more
difficult than
Bul-Mok
to depose. Having managed to draw that conclusion, however,
his intelligence was insufficient to find a solution. Certainly the
thought of going to his father s assistance never occurred to
him.

Assuming a kneeling posture, the girl
stared at the giant man who had saved her. She feasted her eyes on
his handsome face and wonderfully well-developed body, rapidly
losing her fear of the ‘Hairy Men’. The fright was being replaced
by another, more pleasurable sensation.

Ever since the girl could
remember, she had been told stories of a great jungle god who
rescued Telonga maidens in distress. Although she had never really
believed that such a person existed, for nobody had ever seen him,
she now felt compelled to change her mind. The magnificent
white-haired giant had certainly come to her aid in a time of
greater danger than she had ever previously known. Apart from his
light color, he was assuredly all that she would have expected of a
jungle god. No man of her people—not even
At-Vee,
the Hunter—could equal her saviors
handsome features, enormous size and exceptional muscular
development.

As the girl recollected what
the legends claimed would happen after the maiden was saved, she
wriggled her shapely body in ecstatic anticipation. Excitedly and
eagerly, she thought of the love making which she felt sure was
coming once the jungle god had driven away the ‘Hairy
Men
’.

With the
Manganis
spine on the point of breaking,
Bunduki refrained from applying the final pressure. He had no wish
to kill, or seriously injure—which would most likely have the same
result—
Bul-Mok
unless there was no other choice. It was possible that the
need to do so would not arise. In all forms of status-conflict
between males of the same species, there were ways of bringing the
affair to an end without the need to kill the loser. From what
Tarzan and Korak had told him, Bunduki knew what he could do to
avoid terminating the
Manganis
life.

‘
Surrender?’ the blond giant
demanded, loosening his grip slightly without entirely
relinquishing the painful hold.

‘
Surrender!’
Bul-Mok
conceded, after a moment’s pause, knowing that the
offer was unlikely to be repeated.

Although each had made the same
phonetic word-sound,
‘
Ka-goda
’
the difference in the timbre of their voices showed that
one had asked a question and the other had given an
answer.

Separating his hands on
receiving
Bul-Mok
’s
reply, Bunduki leapt to his feet and stood astride his
defeated rival’s recumbent body. Watched by the girl and the three
younger males, he tossed back his head and roared forth the victory
call of a bull
Mangani.
There was no immediate response from
Bal-Tak
or his brothers, but somewhere
to the north-west came a distant reply and another sounded faintly
from the east. That implied there were other bands of
Mangani
in the jungle.
However, both groups were much too far away to concern
him.

Having signaled his victory in the
accepted manner, Bunduki turned his back on the three young males.
Smiling and apparently satisfied that he had achieved his purpose,
he started to walk towards the kneeling girl.

Letting out a snarl of
rage,
Bal-Tak
leapt into motion. He swung the branch-spear above his head
in both hands, intending to drive its sharpened end into the
unsuspecting blond giant’s back.

Realizing
that she had no other choice,
Dawn Drummond-Clayton came to a halt and turned.

She was not a moment too
soon!

In fact, she had almost left it too
late!

Already the harpy eagle’s broad,
shortish wings were lifting it higher, in preparation for the
deadly downwards plunge onto its prey. From its powerful curved
beak burst a hideous shriek that was intended to paralyze its
victim with fright during the final stages of the
attack.

Reversing its wing beats and spreading
its tail feathers, the eagle inclined its body almost vertically.
It thrust the sturdy yellow legs forward, directing the deadly
implements with which it made its kill towards its prey. The huge,
hooked claws—the ones at the rear not quite as long but thicker
than those of a Kodiak bear, the largest carnivorous land animal in
the world—opened to a span as great as the hand of a big man. They
were ready to drive into and clamp hold of its victim’s
flesh.

For once, the terror-inducing scream
was failing to achieve its purpose. The creature at which it was
flying was far more dangerous than the arboreal animals and large
jungle birds that formed the eagle’s natural prey. Nor was the girl
a slave with bound arms, as the other human beings at whom it had
been flown invariably were. They had been unable to fight back, but
she could.

Adopting her shooting stance, Dawn
made ready to defend herself. While her left hand started to raise
the bow, the fingers of her right were manipulating the string and
arrow. A draw of twenty-eight inches was required to flex the limbs
sufficiently to obtain their full power. Before she had attained a
quarter of that distance, she knew there would not be enough time
for her to achieve it.