Marauders of gor, p.30
Marauders of Gor, page 30
A Kur lifted its great ax. I charged him, my ax swift before he could strike.
I wrenched free the blade of the ax, as it slumped down, breaking it free from its jawbone and shoulder.
"Tarl Red Hair!" I heard cry. It was the voice of a girl, wild, slender. I turned. I realize now it was Thyri, but I did not recognize her at the time. I stood mighty and terrible, the ax ready, my clothes drenched with blood, the Kur rolling and jerking at my feet. She put her hand before her mouth, her eyes terrified, and fled away.
I saw a Kur seize a man of Thorgard of Scagnar's camp and tear his head from his body.
The attackers, as well as the men of Thorgard of Scagnar, wore yellow scarves at their shoulders. Many Kurii, confused in the beginning, had fallen to the axes of scarved men, putatively their allies. Now, however, indiscriminately, they sought to destroy all armed male humans. Many were the men of Thorgard who fell beneath the teeth and steel of Kurii, and several were the Kurii who fell to the weapons of Thorgard's men, as they fought madly to defend themselves.
Once I saw Thorgard of Scagnar and Ivar Forkbeard trying to reach him. But Ivar was blocked by Kurii and warriors, and joined in their combat.
I heard the screaming of slave girls.
I saw two Kurii converging on Gorm. Twice, from behind, the ax swept laterally, once to the left, the second time to the right, chopping through the spines.
A sleen, more than eleven feet in length, six-legged, slid past, its fur wiping against my thigh.
Gorm, in his madness, was cutting at the bodies of the Kurii fallen now before him, shrieking.
Shoulder to shoulder, fighting, I saw Bjarni of Thorstein Camp and the young man whom I had championed on the dueling ground in the Thing.
I smelled fire. There was the howling of Kurii.
I saw a Kur, barred with brown, turning, backing away, snarling, limping, from Ottar, who kept the Forkbeard's farm. Ottar pursued it, heedless of his safety, his eyes wild, killing it, cutting its body then in two with repeated blows of his ax.
I saw the huge, little-known man of Torvaldsland, who had joined the host late, calling himself Hrolf, from the east, who had come from the direction of the Torvaldsberg. With a cry he thrust his spear through the chest of a Kur.
He fought magnificently.
A Kur charged. I sidestepped, catching it in the belly with the ax.
I saw another Kur, undecided, startled. I slipped in gut. It charged. I reared the handle of the ax, catching it in the stomach, turning it to one side. It grunted. I leapt up, catching it in the side of the neck before it could rise. Its head half to one side it rose to its feet and ran for a dozen yards before it slipped, falling sideways, rolling into the fur and burning leather of one of their lodges.
"Protect me!" I heard. A female threw herself to my feet, putting her head to my ankle. "Protect me!" she wept. I looked down. She lifted her face, terrified, tear-stained. She had dark hair, dark eyes. I saw the iron collar, dark, on her white throat. It was Leah, the Canadian girl. With my foot I thrust her, weeping, to one side. There was men's work to do.
I met the attack of the Kur squarely. The handle of its ax smote down across the handle of mine, forcing me to one knee. Slowly I reared up, forcing the handle, now held in the two paws of the Kur, upward and backward. It again thrust down, with its full weight and strength, certain that it could crush the puny strength of a human. I held it only long enough to satisfy myself that I could, then I withdrew the handle swiftly, twisting to one side and lifting the ax. It fell forward, startled. I stepped on the handle of the ax. It tried to dislodge it. My ax was raised. It rolled wildly to one side. My blow fell against its left shoulder blade, dividing it. Howling, it leapt to its feet, backing away from me, baring its fangs. I followed it. It turned suddenly and leapt away. I caught it before the opening of a pavilion tent, one of those of Thorgard of Scagnar, perhaps his own. The tent was striped. The Kur, turning, now facing me, moved backward; it stumbled against a tent rope, jerking loose its peg. I leaped forward, striking it again, at the left hip. The side of its furred leg was drenched with blood. Hunched over, snarling, it backed into the tent, where I followed it. There was screaming from within the tent, the screaming of Thorgard's silken girls, many of them short, plump, lusciously bodied. Some were chained by the left ankle. The silks they wore, clinging and diaphanous, were designed not to conceal their beauty but to reveal it, to enhance and accentuate it, to expose it sensuously to the survey of a master. They, collared, shrank back, cowering on the cushions, drawing back to the side of the tent. I scarcely glanced at them. They would belong to the victors.
The Kur, backing away, with its right arm, reaching across its body, tore up one of the tent poles, wrenching it free of the earth, the tent. The tent sagged near him. He snarled. He thrust out with the tent pole, using the spike at its top like a spear. Then he swung the pole, striking at me. I waited. It was weak from the loss of blood. It turned about again and fled to the opposite wall of the tent. It tried to tear the silk, and it was at the wall of the tent that I caught it. I lifted my ax from the body, and turned to face the women. I strode to them. They knelt, huddled together, holding one another, at the side of the tent. They put down their eyes, trembling. I left the tent.
"Where is Thorgard of Scagnar?" asked Ivar Forkbeard. His shirt was half torn away. There was Kur blood on his chest and against the side of his face.
"I do not know," I told him.
Behind Ivar Forkbeard, naked, wearing his collar, I saw Hilda, Thorgard's daughter.
"There is a rallying of Kurii by the verr pens!" cried a man.
Quickly Ivar and myself hurried to the verr pens.
The rally was ill fated. Spears fell among the determined Kurii. Several fell in the mud and filth of the verr pens themselves, the bleating animals, frightened, darting about, leaping over the bodies.
Near the verr pens we found chained male slaves, picked up by Kurii on foraging expeditions, and used as porters. There were more than three hundred such wretches.
Svein Blue Tooth was at the pens, leading the attack that had broken the rally. The rally had been led by the Kur who had been foremost in the attack on his hall. This Kur, it seemed, had disappeared, scattering with the others. The Blue Tooth stepped over the body of a fallen Kur. He gestured to the chained male slaves. "Free them," he said, "and give them weapons. There is yet work to do." Eagerly the slaves, when their manacles had been struck away, picked up weapons and sought Kurii.
"Do not permit Kurii to escape to the south," said Svein Blue Tooth to Ketil, keeper of his high farm, who had been famed as a wrestler.
"The bosk herd blocks their escape in numbers," said Ketil. "Some have even been trampled."
"We have been tricked!" cried a man. "Across the camp is the true rally, hundreds of Kurii! All falls before them! This was a ruse to draw men here, permitting Kurii to regroup in numbers elsewhere!"
My heart leaped.
No wonder the commander of the Kurii had left his forces here, disappearing. I wondered if they knew his real intent had been elsewhere. I admired him. He was a true general, a most dangerous and lethal foe, unscrupulous, brilliant.
"It seems," grinned Ivar Forkbeard, "we have a worthy adversary."
"The battle turns against us!" cried a man.
"They must be held!" said Ivar Forkbeard. We heard the howling of Kurii, from almost a pasang away, on the other side of the camp. Drifting to us, too, were the cries of men. "Let us join the fray, Tarl Red Hair," invited the Forkbeard.
Fleeing men rushed past us. The Forkbeard struck one, felling him.
"To the battle," said he. The man turned, and, taking his weapon, fled back to the fighting. "To the battle!" cried the Forkbeard. "To the battle!"
"They cannot be held!" cried a man. "They will sweep the camp!"
"To the battle!" cried the Forkbeard.
We ran madly toward the fighting.
There, already lifted, we saw the signal spear of Svein Blue Tooth. About it swept Kurii. It was like a flag on an island. At its foot stood the mighty Rollo, striking to the left and right with his ax. No Kur who approached the signal spear did not die. Hundreds of men, in ragged, scattered lines, strung out laterally, accompanied us. Kurii, overextended, meeting this new resistance, to piercing howls, fell back, to regroup for another charge.
"Form lines!" cried Svein Blue Tooth. "Form lines!" The Blue Tooth, their Jarl, was with them! Men fought to take their place, under his eyes, in the first line.
The Blue Tooth himself now stood with Rollo, his own hand on the signal spear.
We saw the overlapping shields of the Kurii line, the axes. There must have been better than two thousand Kurii formed.
Then, to our surprise, from within the Kurii lines we saw two or three hundred slave girls whipped forth. They were bound together in fours and fives. Some were bound together by the wrists, others by the ankles, some by the waist, many by the throat. They were cattle, caught and tethered in the camp, in the confusion, by Kurii. They were to be used to break our lines. I saw Aelgifu, Pudding, among them. Her wrists were pulled out from the side of her body, bound to the wrist of a girl on either side, as they themselves were fastened. We heard the cracking of whips, and the cries of pain. Faster and faster ran the girls toward us, fleeing the whips. Behind them, rapidly, the Kurii advanced.
"Charge!" cried Svein Blue Tooth. The lines of men, too, hurtled forward.
Not ten yards before the clash took place, Svein Blue Tooth and his lieutenants before the running line, as the girls, under the whips of Kurii, fled, terrified, seeing the axes, the leveled weapons, toward them, made a sign no bondmaid of the north mistakes, the belly sign. Almost as one the girls, crying out, flung themselves to their bellies among the bodies and the charge of the men of Torvaldsland, missing not a step, took its way over them, striking the startled Kurii with an unimpeded impact. I cut down one of the Kurii with its whip. "When the whip is put to the back of slaves," I told it, "it is we who shall do so." There was, instantly, fierce fighting, in and among, and over, the bodies of the tethered bondmaids. Those who could covered their heads with their hands. Bodies, human and Kur, fell bloodied to the grass. Bondmaids, half crushed, some with broken bones, screamed. They struggled, some to rise, but, tethered, few could do so. Most lay prone, trembling, as the feet shifted about them, weapons clashing over their heads. The Kurii, some seventeen or eighteen hundred of them, fell back.
"Cut the wenches free," ordered Svein Blue Tooth. Blades swiftly freed the prone, hysterical bondmaids. Many were covered with blood. Svein Blue Tooth, and others, by the hair, hurled bond-wenches to their feet. "Get to the pen!" he cried. They stumbled away, hurrying to the pen. "Help her!" ordered the Blue Tooth to two frightened girls. They bent to lift and support one of their sisters in bondage, whose leg was broken, binding fiber still knotted about the ankle. "Tarl Red Hair!" wept Gunnhild. My blade flashed at her throat, cutting the tether that bound her, on either side, to two other girls. "Get to the pen," I told her. "Yes, my Jarl!" she cried, running toward the pen. The girls, those who could, fled the field, to return to the pen in which the Kurii had originally confined them. Those who could not walk were, under the orders of men, by other bondmaids, carried or aided to the pen. I saw Pretty Ankles put out her hand to Ivar Forkbeard. Severed binding fiber was knotted tight about her belly. "To the pen," commanded the Forkbeard. Weeping, she hurried to the pen.
"They charge!" cried a man.
With a great howling, again Kurii ran toward us. Our lines buckled but, again, after minutes of terrible fighting, they fell back.
On one side of me fought the mighty Rollo, his lips foaming, his eyes wild, on the other side he who called himself Hrolf, from the east, the bearded giant with bloodied spear. Well did he acquit himself. Then others stood with me. Rollo went to the signal spear. He who spoke of himself as Hrolf disappeared.
Twice more were there charges, once by Kurii, once by men. We were thrown back from the shield wall with devastating losses. Had it not been for the force of Svein Blue Tooth, the power of his voice, the mightiness of his presence, Kurii might then have taken the initiative. "Form lines!" he cried. "Regroup! Spears to the second line!" A hedge of spears, projecting from the lines of men, men with axes between them, waited for Kurii, should they try to press their advantage.
Then the spear line faced the shield wall. A hundred yards of bloodied grass, of bodies, of men and Kurii, separated two species of warring animal.
Kurii from within the camp, where they could, streamed to join their comrades. Men, too, where they could break away from small battles, individual combats, found their way to our lines.
It seemed startling to me that we had stood against Kurii, but we had.
The Kurii showed no signs of emerging from the shield wall. It consists of two lines, one on the ground, the other at chest level, of overlapping shields. The shields turn only for the blows of axes. We could see the two front lines, one kneeling, one standing, of Kurii. Similar lines, fierce, obdurate, protective, extended about the formation, on all sides, forming the edges of the Kurii war square. Within the square, formed into ragged "Hands," "Kurii," and "Bands," with their appropriate leaders, were massed a considerable number of Kurii, ready to charge forth should the shield wall open, or to support it if it seemed in danger of weakening. It was my supposition that their square contained, now, better than twenty-three hundred beasts.
"Let us again attack the square!" cried a man.
"No," said Svein Blue Tooth. "We cannot break the square."
"They will wait for night," said Ivar Forkbeard.
Men shuddered. The Kur has excellent night vision. Men would, for practical purposes, be blind.
"They will slaughter us with the fall of night," said a man.
"Let us withdraw now," said another.
"Do you not think they will hunt us in the darkness?" asked Svein Blue Tooth. He looked up. "It is past noon," he said. Then he said, "I am hungry." He looked to some of his men. "Go to Kurii fallen. Cut meat. Roast it before our lines."
"Good," said Ivar Forkbeard. "Perhaps they will break the square for us."
But the square did not break. Not a beast moved. Svein Blue Tooth threw Kur meat into the dirt, in disgust.
"Your plan has failed," said Ivar Forkbeard.
"Yes," said Svein Blue Tooth grimly, "they are waiting for night."
I saw the general within their square, the huge Kur whom I had seen before, in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth, it with the golden ring on the left arm. The ring of gold, as far as I knew, had no military significance. Many Kurii wear such rings, and necklaces and earrings. That no ring of reddish alloy was worn, which would distinguish the leader of a Band or March was of interest. The leader of a Band wears two welded, reddish rings, the leader of the March, which contains twelve Bands, only one. The general in the formation against which we stood wore not even one reddish ring. Surely he was not a "Blood" of a "People." Yet there was little doubt of his authority, or his right to such authority. I expected he stood as a commander from one of the steel worlds themselves, sent to unite and command native Kurii.
"Sometimes," said I. "Kurii react to blood, reflexively."
"They have had their fill of blood," said Ivar Forkbeard. "The air is heavy with it." Even I could smell blood, mixing with the smoke of fires, where Kurii lodges burned.
But the Kurii square held. It did not move.
"They are patient," said Svein Blue Tooth. "They wait for night."
At the same time Ivar Forkbeard and myself looked to one another. I smiled. He grinned.
"We shall break the square," I told Svein Blue Tooth. "We shall do so in one Ahn. Find what food and water you can. Feed the men. Give them drink. Be ready."
He looked at us, as though we might be mad. "I shall," he said, fingering the stained tooth of the Hunjer whale which hung about his neck.
* * * *
Kurii lifted their heads, apprehensive. They heard the bellowing, before it came to the ears of men.
The earth began to tremble.
Dust, like smoke, like the earth was burning, rolled into the air.
They looked to one another.
Then the air was filled with the thunder of hoofs, the bellowing of the bosk.
The bosk, in their charging hundreds, heads down, hoofs pounding, maddened, relentless, driven, struck the square. We heard, even from behind the herd, Ivar, and I, and a hundred men, screaming and shouting, the howling, the startled shrieks of Kurii, the enraged roars of Kurii. We heard the scraping of horns on metal, the screams of gored Kurii, the howls of Kurii fallen beneath the hoofs. Nothing on Gor withstands the charge of the maddened bosk. Larls themselves will flee before it. The herd thrust through the square and, half milling, half still running, emerged from its other side, making for the slopes of the valley. Dazed, injured Kurii, their formations disrupted, reeled, only to find, among them, screaming men, the launched horde of Svein Blue Tooth. His charge was unleashed while the last of the bosk were still striking the western edge of the square, and other animals were streaming, bellowing, goring, through it. Screaming men, axes raised, emerged from the dust, running, falling upon the devastated Kurii. Not an instant had they been given to regroup themselves. Kurii, howling, fled, knots of men following individuals.
