Fearless Master of the Jungle (A Bunduki Jungle Adventure (17 page)

Quick though
Shushi
’s
move had been, Charole acted even more swiftly. Darting forward,
she bounded up in a dropkick. Although the war-lady tried to leap
rearwards, the feet reached her breasts with sufficient force to
repay the treatment she had given to Charole. Crying in pain, the
buxom woman tumbled on to her back. However, remembering what had
happened the last time she made the attempt, the Protectress did
not essay another knee-drop. Instead, she flung herself bodily on
to her supine but far from helpless rival.

Both of the women were trained
warriors, skilled in unarmed combat, but pure feminine instinct
elicited exactly the same response from each as their bodies came
into contact. Even as Charole
’s fingers were burying into and wrenching at
Shushi’s hair, pain burst like a raging fire through her own head.
She felt as if her short locks were in danger of being torn out by
the roots as they were savaged just as vigorously.

Over and over the embattled
women churned, alternating between pulling at hair and swinging
wild, yet hard, punches or slaps indiscriminately. Snapping forward
at one stage, Charole
’s forehead pulped Shushi’s nose to bring blood
gushing out. Not long after, a butt from the war-lady split the
Protectress’s top lip. During the rolling, squirming mill, Charole
found herself kneeling behind Shushi. Her left arm was across the
buxom woman’s face and the right was drawing upwards on a hank of
hair. Just as she was deciding to put the right hand to some more
useful purpose, she felt a set of firm white teeth sinking into
flesh. Not in a gentle nip either and the blood on the limb was
soon no longer all from Shushi’s nostrils.

After one piercing shriek, the
Protectress replied in kind and just as effectively. Bringing her
head forward, she closed her mouth on Shushi
’s shoulder and tore at it like
a wild animal. Wailing like a soul in torment, the war-lady reached
over her shoulder to catch her assailant by the hair. Then, forcing
herself and Charole from the kneeling position to their feet, she
bent at the waist and, taking advantage of the leverage offered by
being shorter, catapulted the other woman over. Although Shushi
also went down, the impact separated them. They were up in an
instant, both breathing hard through the exertions of almost ten
minutes’ hair-tearing, rolling-around brawling. Each had now a
blackened eye, bloody nostrils and lips, grazes on elbows, knees
and shoulders. Blood also trickled down Charole’s left arm and
along Shushi’s neck to flow through the valley between her heaving
breasts.

Oblivious of the audience, who
were still encouraging them to better efforts, Charole and Shushi
came to grips again. This time, however, it was like trained
warriors. There was little to choose between them in skill, or
strength. What was more, each had seen sufficient members of the
others nation fighting in the arena to possess a fair idea of what
to expect. So Charole countered the war-lady
’s chops and open handed jabs
by punching, while each was conversant in using the feet and knees
as weapons. Nor did either have any ascendancy when they used
wrestling throws, locks and grips.

For almost an hour longer the
battle raged. It went through the camp, up and back down the
nearest sand dune. About half way through, having recovered,
Muchkio tried to interfere. Turning on her, Charole and
Shushi battered her
unconscious and trampled on her as they resumed their briefly
interrupted hostilities. There was only one other intervention.
Locked in a clinch, they had been in danger of falling into a fire.
Leaping forward, Torisaki grabbed each one by the hair and threw
them clear of the danger.

Stumbling in exhaustion, barely
able to see through her right eye and with the left swollen closed,
Shushi launched a swing at Charole
’s head. In only a little better shape,
the Protectress sidestepped and, as the war-lady staggered by,
turned to jump on to her from behind. Desperately trying to counter
the move, Shushi made the mistake of falling backwards. While she
landed upon her opponent, she found her waist trapped between the
other’s sweat-sodden thighs.

Because of the time they spent
riding, the Mun-Gatahs
’ leg muscles were so developed that the scissors
was a deadly tactic for them. Crossing her ankles to help crush on
Shushi’s midriff, she began to apply an—even in her present
condition—murderous constriction. Nor did she restrict herself just
to that. Rocking her body on to its shoulders, she raised her
victim into the air. What little breath Shushi had was leaving her
in a pitiful moan. Never had she experienced such strength, nor an
equal pressure. It was as if her body was being pulped into two
pieces. Then she felt herself descending sideways. The landing made
the legs tighten until it seemed that the lower was on the verge of
caving in her ribs. However, it also had the effect of breaking the
grip. As the limbs opened, she rolled free and managed to continue
moving away.

A good minute went by before
either woman could rise. When they did, it was obvious that they
were both on their last legs. Tottering towards each other, they
weakly grabbed for hair and wobbled in a circle tugging as hard as
they could. After almost thirty seconds of such ineffectual
behavior, Charole
summoned every dreg of energy she could muster. Suddenly she
slipped backwards, dragging Shushi after her. Placing both feet
against the war-lady’s barely resisting body, she brought off a
stomach throw.

By some miracle, Shushi managed
to at least partially break her fall. Hardly aware of what she was
doing, driven only by an indomitable fighting instinct and courage,
she turned on to her stomach and forced herself up until reaching
her knees. Charole was already up. Sobbing for breath, she reeled
in to smash a kick between the bare olive-skinned shoulders which
pitched its recipient face down once more. Falling to her knees
beside Shushi, the Protectress turned her over and, drawing her
into a sitting position by the hair, delivered a
coup-de-grace
with a punch to the jaw. As the defeated war-lady
flopped supine, the victress toppled forward across her. Charole
made one desperate, unavailing attempt to get up, then she too
subsided into loss of consciousness.

‘
What
a fight!’ Torisaki enthused, his face alight with a mixture of
excitement and lust as he studied the two battered, motionless
figures at his feet. “Take them both into the pavilion and tend to
their injuries. By the Dragon God, I’m going to enjoy
tonight.’

While the
war-lord
’s
orders were being attended to, he noticed the ‘Terrifier’ lying
where his wife had dropped it. Going over, he picked it up and
stood looking at it for a few seconds. Then, giving a shrug as he
decided the Protectress had been bluffing for some reason, he
tossed it across into the fire. Turning, he strolled towards the
pavilion in the wake of the women carrying the unconscious
fighters. Before he had taken three steps, the device
exploded.

‘
Here
you, foreign woman!’ the visitor named Deneb-Ginwe called to Dawn
Drummond-Clayton. ‘Bring me some of that food and be quick about
it.’

‘
Yes,
noble master,’ the Earth girl responded, sounding humble and
walking forward with a bowl of the succulent stew for which
Joar-Fane’s mother was famous.

There had been no need for
Bunduki
’s
instructions to be carried out earlier in the day. Even as Dawn had
been on the point of obeying and making for the tree house to
collect weapons, At-Vee the Hunter had declared there was no cause
for alarm. The newcomers in the boats were members of the
Wurka-Telonga village. Joar-Fane had replied to the blond giant’s
comment that he had not heard of such a village by stating,
‘We
don’t talk
about
them.
’
She had sounded prim and spoke in a way which reminded the
Earth couple of an elderly Victorian maiden aunt commenting about a
disreputable branch of her family to whom she would prefer not to
be related.

Before either Dawn or Bunduki
could try to discover what had caused the reticence among all the
Telonga people with regard to the Wurkas, the boats swung around in
a wide reach. Displaying skill that told of long practice, the crew
had dropped the sails. Then, as one anchor was let down in
each
ghe ca
vom,
two of
the men had leapt from each boat to carry a second anchor ashore
and buried its head in the sand to act as a kedge. By the time this
had been done, the boats were secured bows to the wind and, in not
more than a couple of feet of water, some thirty feet from the
beach. It had been, the Earth couple considered, a masterly
exhibition of boat handling. Whatever else the new arrivals might
be, they were exceptionally competent in such matters.

Having brought the two
ghe ca voms
to a stop, the
kedge anchor handlers stood in silence. They were all youngish,
with what should have been friendly faces and yet they seemed both
shy and ill-at-ease. None of them offered to speak. Instead, they
had looked to where three men out of the second boat had started to
wade ashore. Nobody else had followed the quintet.

In the lead of the delegation
had been the only man whose skull was not completely bald. Clad in
the flowing white robes of a village Elder, he had a veritable mane
of white hair and an unpleasantly sour cast of features which had
exuded a self-righteous and sanctimonious aura. Unlike every other
Telonga of the Earth couple
’s acquaintance, who always endeavored to keep
their attire clean, his garment was grubby beyond what might have
been expected from a journey in a boat. He alone had been unarmed,
and he announced that he was Tik-Felum, the senior Elder, in tones
that implied he considered nothing further need be said to
establish his superior status. Then, without waiting for any
acknowledgement, he had presented the men who had followed him
ashore. Two of them were his sons. All had on loincloths made from
the beautiful dark brown hides of sea otters (which none of the
other occupants of the
ghe ca voms
had been wearing) encircled by leather belts. From
these, at the left side, hung wooden handled swords which had
proved to have the undulating blades with the hook-like
bělalaigaja
of the
Javanese
dapur bener kris.

Deneb-Ginwe, the elder of the
sons, had a skull which bulged over a face that
taper
ed to a
thin and weak chin. His expression was modeled upon that of his
father. Nor was his sibling, Han-Ateep, any more prepossessing:
Something under six foot in height and like the rest of his family
having a far from impressive physique, he had also shared their
attitude of arrogant self importance.

Not quite as tall, the other
two were more thickset and heavily built. Clean shaven and
domineering looking, Sraat-Challig had the air of a truculent bully
and was slightly the larger of the two. Exceeding the other in
wei
ght,
Jomus-Takn had a massive mustache which made him look pompous
without relieving the glint of real cruelty in his close-set and
piggy little eyes. Hanging from the right side of his belt was a
carefully folded fishing net made of slender and weighted
cords.

‘
So
these are the famous “Earths” who have come to change our way of
life, are they?’ Tik-Felum had asked, making no attempt to address
Dawn and Bunduki.

‘
They
are our friends,’ At-Vee had replied coldly.

‘
The
Telonga nation have never had the need to make outsiders their
friends,’ Tik-Felum had stated pompously.
‘We
see no need for it to start happening
now.’

‘
That’s because the People-Taker never reached the
Wurka-Telonga village,’ Joar-Fane had put in hotly. ‘If he had, and
had done what he did to the people in
our
village, you would have welcomed the
friendship of Dawn and Bunduki of the “Earths”.’

‘
It
seems that other things have changed for the worse among the
Jey-Mat Telongas,’ Tik-Felum had growled, taking in the girl’s
hostile attitude and the way in which she was dressed. No other
woman of their people had ever dared to speak so forthrightly to
him. ‘I shall have much to say to the Elders of your village,
Hunter.’

‘
Talk
is what the Elders always do best,’ At-Vee had answered
off-handedly.

‘
We
all don’t just
talk!
’
Jomus-Takn had injected, with a threatening scowl which had
warned that he was looking for trouble.

‘
Look
there!’ Han-Ateep had almost yelped, before any more could be said,
pointing to the tree house. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that
before!’

‘
The
“Suppliers” have built it for our home,’ Bunduki had explained,
seeing that the other four were equally impressed by the sight. ‘We
“Earths” are well favored by them.’

The quintet had exchanged
worried glances and the truculence had left the burly pair to be
replaced by a lack of ease. They had regarded the
tree house as a
sign that the ‘Suppliers’ were not averse to the changes proposed
by the ‘Earths’. Saying that his party would continue their journey
to Jey-Mat, Tik-Felum had turned and strode rapidly away. Nor had
his sons been dilatory in following his lead, but had almost
scuttled along on his heels. Although Jomus-Takn and Sraat-Challig
had tried to comport themselves with indifference, they too had
departed with more haste than they had come ashore. Once they were
all aboard, the anchors were taken in. Then the
ghe ca voms
had been taken across the lake
under the propulsion of their oars until they could pick up the
wind.