It caught her flush on the side of the face, lifted her out of the seat, then dropped her. She landed on the ground like a sack of potatoes. Gazul dropped casually to the ground and toed her unconscious body. “You’re one dumb sugarhole, girl. That’s the oldest trick in the book.” He laughed some more. “But you are special. Real special.”
He picked her up, dumped her in the back of the wagon with his leopards, then climbed back into the driver’s box and glanced up, then down the road. The road ahead was empty. The back road was the same, but a turn in it blocked his view, so he drove rapidly down to a side trail. He turned down it, then parked behind a tangle of concealing thick brush and overhanging tree limbs, and scrambled onto the bed, squatted over Robin.
Using a dagger he slit her tunic at the middle of the square collar, then ripped it apart all the way to the hem. He pulled her arms out one at a time, then took hold of the tunic and yanked on it hard, rolling her over roughly and pulling the garment off. He tossed the tunic into the underbrush, then rolled her onto her back. A smirk squirmed its way through his flabby face as he stroked her nude stomach, and cupped a firm breast in a calloused hand. After some of this, he said aloud, “Enough of that,” and spanked the playing hand with his other one, laughing.
That was when the huge grey wolf erupted from the shrubs at a dead run and leapt for the wagon. The animal landed lightly on top of a side board, bounded over the surprised leopards, and caught the startled Gazul in the chest with his full weight. The impact drove man and wolf out of the wagon.
They landed with a crunch on powdery dirt, and rolled over in swirling dust onto all fours. Knowing this position favored the wolf, Gazul howled, but it only seemed to encourage the animal. It drove for Gazul’s throat, just missed, but tore off a strip of shoulder. The man screamed and scrambled back. The wolf whirled towards the wagon and the three leopards leaped at it. Gazul, recognizing their mistake, screamed a warning. Too late. The wolf leapt up into the body of the first cat and his jaws snapped hard.
Cat and wolf hit the ground, and broke apart. The cat’s throat was hanging from the wolf’s mouth. His fur was raked with claws.
The surviving leopards spun in place, and faced the wolf snarling as Gazul shouted, “Kill it! Kill it!”
In reply, the wolf drew his lips back behind bloody fangs and the cat’s meaty throat fell in the dirt.
This only increased the bounty hunter’s volume, and there was only one thing on his mind. “Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!”
The leopards hesitated, and Gazul sobbed knowing why. They loved the chase and hated the pit fight, while the wolf loved it. He charged the nearest cat, but it raised up, circling for the wolfs back with its claws slashing. The wolf let it slash, dove under it, found the soft underbelly, and his jaws snapped. His teeth went into the meat up to gums, and hung on as they whirled and rolled.
A fountain of blood spurted from the fight, and Gazul whimpered and went limp, unable to do anything but watch.
The wolf, with its teeth tearing cat flesh, had his muzzle drowned in hot blood, then his jaws came away leaving a hole in the cat’s belly. But his triumph was short as the third cat raked the wolf’s belly, then bore into the belly’s wound with its teeth.
Howling, the wolf spun, whirled, and finally tore himself free. In the process his jaws found a cat’s foreleg, broke it, and the cat backed away from the fight limping. The bleeding wolf followed relentlessly. The cat tripped and the wolf charged, burying his teeth in its neck. Under him the cat had all three good legs working on his underbelly, but the wolf kept his jaws clamped and stayed on his feet. The two animals worked in this position until the cat finally went limp.
Gazul, whimpering, watched the wolf back away from his third kill and turn on him. Transfixed with fear, Gazul looked around and discovered he was sitting on the ground with his back against a tree while his dagger was ten feet away. Cursing his luck, he watched the wolf advance slowly. All the middle of him was gone or hanging. The animal dropped just short of Gazul’s shaking boot, shuddered and died.
When Gazul’s legs steadied, he got back in the wagon, and squatted over Robin. She was still unconscious.
He whispered, “Well, pretty one, you have cost me my three treasures, but you will buy me six more.”
He took henna and umber from his satchel, and mixed a dye with water. Then he colored the hair on her head, under her arms and at her groin a dark chestnut. Using a sticky substance, he made a scar over her left eye, then removed a plain tunic from a bundle of clothing in the wagon bed. As he put it on her, she began to revive. He played with her a little then. She tried to stop him, but was helpless. With one hand he forced her mouth open and poured the contents of a red vial down her throat. By the time he had finished dressing her she was unconscious again.
He threw some straw over her, then climbed back into the driver’s box. There he picked up one of the black cylindrical pouches, removed the doll of Robin. He stroked it possessively, then glanced back at the sleeping form and grinned. “They’ll never know you, lass. Least not ’til you and I reach Bahaara and have a long hot bath.” He laughed, put the doll away, and drove off.
Forty-five
Toward noon, Gath found the she-wolf standing guard over Sharn’s body. The three dead leopards had been gutted by hyenas and jackals, but the she-wolf had made certain Sharn had not provided anyone with a meal.
When Gath approached, the she-wolf backed off, and Gath squatted over his friend’s carcass, deliberately staring into the matted gore of death. But this time he did not allow the helmet to enjoy it; he raged so violently the she-wolf backed away in fear. Gath looked away from the dead animal to the living one and said, “Do not be afraid. He was my teacher and friend, and he will be avenged.”
He removed the thin length of violet cloth from his wrist and tied it around Sharn’s foreleg, then made a grave in the ground under rocks.
Gath searched the area, and found scrapes of red paint made by wagon wheels on the sides of trees, black dye on the grass, and Robin’s torn tunic. Then he moved off at a run following the wagon tracks leaving the she-wolf howling mournfully behind. The tracks led back onto Summer Trail, then south to Border Road. There they turned east and mingled with a thousand similar ones.
Gath followed Border Road until he reached the rubble of Bone Camp. The leveled village was deserted. Five different trails led off the village square. All were marred with countless wagon, foot and horse tracks.
Gath stood motionless over Bone Camp’s rubble for a long time, with the dying orange light of day gracing his metal-clad body, and helmeted head. He looked to the west, and watched the sun sink behind the cataracts. As a child of eight or nine or ten summers-he did not know for certain as he did not know his age-he had vowed never again to ask a human for help, and he had kept that vow. But now he needed help. Nevertheless, his mind refused to change. He stood in place until night descended and he became indistinguishable from the darkness, then his mind surrendered to his passion.
Forty-six
The small group of elderly men and women sat silently around a fire in Rag Camp listening to the sounds of a massive creature moving noisily through the night. Suddenly, realizing it was headed toward them, they grabbed their weapons and hurried into shadows watching the edge of the clearing.
A massive shadow strode out of the darkness and across the clearing. Moonlight glanced off sharp horns growing out of its black helmet and the cutting edge of a steel battle-ax.