Nowhere Man, Book One. - Cover

Nowhere Man, Book One.

Copyright© 2018 by Gordon Johnson

Chapter 34

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 34 - My take on the man displaced through time/alternate worlds/whatever. The hero arrives naked, almost defenceless, with no memory of his past. How does he cope, and why is he there?

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Consensual   Rape   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Far Past   Time Travel   Humiliation   Sadistic   Polygamy/Polyamory  

“Okay. Aim for leaving in the morning. Can you pass the word, and I’ll tell Numa what we are doing?”

“Don’t you know? She has managed to match the distance qualification, so she is coming too.”

“Damn!” was all John could come up with.

Gomla went on, “It is not too difficult if you get plenty of practice. We have all been at it until our fingers are sore from plucking that cord and sending the arrow on the way.”

“We?”

“Oh, yes. I qualified too. You don’t think your wives are going to let you fight a major enemy without us being right there with you? Kara is the only one who has had trouble with the distance and accuracy, due to her small size. She says she is going to put on more muscle to be able to compete in any future events like this. She will stand in for Numa while we are away.”

“No complaints from Ranga?”

“Nope. She knows she is not old enough to stand in for the Chief, but she still tried the arrow contest; she failed, so she will be an advisor to Raka, as she spent her childhood as a Chief’s daughter and knows most of the routine.”

“Okay-dokey. Someone should see about the supplies of food and weapons, and if there is a travois available for use, we can use it for carrying some trade goods and the rest of our stuff on the way. First stop is the fisher village; we can try out some of their food while we are there. If Corvo is not around, we don’t wait but start in the general direction of the enemy. Hopefully we will meet Corvo on the trail.”

John was sleeping soundly after an evening of lovemaking when he was woken up by Tempo, wanting him to check over the supplies loaded on the travois.

“Tempo? You are not an archer, are you?”

“Gods, no, but I am coming as your transporter of the cargo. You didn’t think you would be doing that by yourself, did you? You need to be in the lead, to make sure there are no surprises ahead.”

John saw the sense in his argument, and grunted, “All right, that suits me. Make sure you bring a spear and dagger, though. You may have to fight if things get complicated.”

Tempo smiled, “That suits me as well.”

John asked, “What about your family?”

Tempo laughed, “No they are not coming! Oh, did you mean are they concerned for me? Of course, but the same applies to everyone on the expedition. We all expect that you will do your best to make sure we get back safely. You have a reputation for not making stupid errors in your fights.”

“Thanks,” John glowered. “Some reputations are not to be wished for, you know. A man can’t be right every time.”

He was reminded, “That’s a lot better than making bad decisions, John. Live with it.”

“Very well. Damn, man, I need a wash before breakfast, to help me wake up fully.”

Tempo left him to do that, and departed to conclude his preparations. The cavalcade was ready to go not long after everyone had their morning feed. John led off, to scout the trail for dangers. Each warrior carried a spear, plus had their bow slung over their back with one arrow tied to it for immediate use. All the other arrows were on the travois, which was acting as the baggage train as John saw it.

They marched in single file for most of the way, with a break every half hour or so for drinks, snacks and latrine visits. Apart from these, it was a continuous walk. John was pleased that there were no complaints about sore feet. These locals were used to walking long distances, and the moccasins made a great difference as well.

By lunchtime they were arriving at the fisher village, where John called out that it was he and his warriors on their way through. They were welcomed by the adults, and the children gaped at the sight of females with weapons, acting as warriors. It took them a while to realise that these females were real warriors, not just carrying weapons; and that made an impact, particularly on the pre-puberty girls.

The headman, accompanied by Fresno, was present to welcome them, and ask why they had come in such numbers.y

“We are used to you coming alone and defeated all our enemies (with the help of Fresno), so why this bunch of ... warriors? All these women are warriors?”

John grinned at him, and nodded his recognition to Fresno.

“Everyone here is a warrior. You can tell by the weapons they carry. All are proficient with the spear, and also with the bow and arrow. Most have also learned unarmed combat techniques, but not all are good at it. They need more practice, so if you have any bullies among your tribe, send them to me and my warriors will put them to rights.”

The headman was troubled, and said so. “Your women can defeat bullies, unarmed?”

“Try us. I always speak truthfully, don’t I, Fresno?”

“He does, Chief. I can vouch for that.”

“They will not cause trouble, these women, will they?” The headman sought an assurance that such fierce women would not go around harming people.

“They are lovely and loving girls, Chief. They are girlfriends and wives, and some are on the way to become mothers. Numa? To the front, girl!”

As Numa marched out of the file and stood before John, she refused to smile, as she was in warrior guise at the moment.

“John?” she asked.

“Thank you, darling. Headman, allow me to present Numa, Chief of John’s Tribe; my wife, and one of the warriors who will attack the Invader army.”

The Headman gaped at the girl before him. “You are the fabled Chief Numa?”

“Fabled? I didn’t know that. I hoped I had a tougher reputation than that. You will have to talk me up on your travels, John.”

“Sorry, dear. My love usually shows through when I talk about you.”

“Aww, that’s nice. You say such lovely things at times, my love. Fresno, take note for when you talk about your own wives.”

“Yes, Chief. I am learning all the time. High Chief John says I am a Chief-in-training, so I must learn a lot over the next few summers.”

The headman remarked, “Perhaps even longer. I am not expecting to retire soon, Fresno.”

“That’s fine, Chief. It means I have more time to learn from you.”

John commented, “Very politic, Fresno. One of the many talents that a Chief needs is how to speak to others without offending them, but still imparting an underlying threat if need be.

Now, is there any sign of Corvo coming here again?”

The headman offered, “Not exactly, but a couple of traders have passed on messages from him. Fresno? You recall the words?”

Fresno recited, “A half day’s walk south of Bamboo village. That was all the first trader had to pass on. The other was just as short: a day’s walk south by west from High Tree encampment.”

John observed, “Very specific, but only if you know where these villages are situated. Can anyone tell me the locations of these two villages?”

Fresno and the Headman looked at each other, the point dawning on them. Fresno noted the vacant look on his Chief’s face, and came out with, “Sorry, John; no idea.”

John grimaced, and asked, “Are either of these traders still here, so that I can ask them? No? I thought so. Stymied by a lack of useful intelligence. Fresno, take note of this fact: Information is only useful if it has valid reference point: you must know where the data starts from. On this occasion, names of villages mean nothing when we don’t know where they are.”

He had a thought, and added, “Has anyone in this village got a map of the surrounding area, far enough that these villages might show up?”

“Map?” The Headman was puzzled. “What is a map?”

Fresno whispered to him, “A drawing of the land, showing where the mountains and the rivers are, and anything else that is there, such as villages.”

The man growled, “Why would I want that? I can see the mountains and the shore, and the rivers are where they always were.”

Fresno explained, “For people less familiar with the area, it can be quite helpful to find their way around.”

“Hmphh! I suppose so. People like traders and such, you mean?”

“Yes. If we made maps of the area, we could trade them for something else, like information about further away places, and then be able to make more maps covering more ground. Get the idea?”

“Damn! Fresno, you are definitely Chief material, if you can see opportunities like that for trading.”

John interrupted, “Sorry to ask again, but does anyone here have such a map?”

Fresno produced a wry smile. “I don’t think so, John, but give me a few minutes to ask around of those who are most likely to have a use for such a device.”

He left John and Numa talking to the Headman, and ran back into the village. The Headman was fascinated with Numa as a fellow Chief; and wanted to know more about her tribe and how she ran it. John stood and listened as they chatted animatedly; in the process learning a bit more about his wife’s activity as Chief. It was revealing, and he was astounded at her ability to run things. He realised he was away so much that she was forced to devise her own solutions to problems.

Soon Fresno was back, with a roll of what looked like bark.

“Chief, Tomba had this drawing of the coastline, but that is all we have in the way of maps. It shows a little of the interior, but not much.”

John stretched out his hand, saying, “If I may, Chief?”, and Fresno handed it over directly to John.

Unrolling the material, John cast his gaze over the drawing. After a few moments, he sighed, saying, “It is a good outline of the coast; helpful for any fisherman or mariner, but it does not show any villages other than this one. It is fine for its own purpose, though.”

He handed it over to the Headman, adding, “You should commission the man or woman who drew this up, to draw some more; showing the inland part of your surrounding countryside.”

The Chief accepted the scroll and unrolled it enough to see what it contained.

“Looks well done. Look, here is the headland over there, where you and Fresno attacked the big ship; and there is our bay. A good representation, I have to admit. Was it Tomba who drew it?”

Fresno smiled to himself, but kept his face straight.

“No, it was drawn by his wife. It seems that she is good at drawing things. Tomba directed her and gave her all the ins and outs of the coastline, so she could draw them accurately.”

The headman gaped. “A woman drew this?”

Fresno nodded. “Yes. We seem to have a number of women with special talents; this is one of them.”

John reinforced the point. “If you have people with talents, you should make use of such assets in your village. Numa, you must see whether we have any people of an artistic ability among our people.”

“I agree, John. We could make copies of the map in the cave...” she shut up, realising that John may not want that mentioned. She was too late.

The headman asked John, “Why would you have a map in a cave, John?”

John recovered well.

“Where else would you draw a map that would not be destroyed by weather, Chief? It is the reference map for the area around our campsite. We can see at a glance in which direction anything lies. I have used it a lot.”

“Is it drawn on bark like this one?”

“No, it is drawn on the wall of the cave. To do that, you need a very flat piece of wall; there are not many of these to be found, and they are not very portable!”

The headman laughed at the concept of a portable chunk of wall.

“Yes, I can see the drawbacks there! So bark is a better choice?”

“As a material to draw on, much better, but the drawing material to go on the bark has to be able to stand up to water, or the first time it gets wet, the picture will be lost. I have heard of a wasp gall, about the thickness of your thumb. You find it on oak trees. You can crush these and mix the resulting powder with pieces of any type of iron – bog iron or nodules from chalk cliffs will do. Add water to the mix and after some time you get a black liquid that you can use for drawing on bark or paper. That black pigment won’t wash away easily.”

Fresno remarked, “You know the weirdest things, John, but they almost always have a practical use.”

Numa interjected, “You didn’t tell me that one before, John. That is another bit of knowledge we must test out. Do we know where there are oak trees?”

John told her, “I have seen what looked like oak trees to me at times, in various places. They are not the same as the ones I am familiar with, but I think that most oak types produce galls if the right insect infects them. Before now, I wasn’t thinking about oak galls, so their presence didn’t really register with me at the time.”

The headman coughed, “Excuse me, have any of your people eaten recently?”

Numa informed him, “No. Our esteemed leader was more interested in maps than feeding us.”

The man guffawed.

“There speaks a wife who knows her husband. Allow me to offer you a meal of fish stew with potatoes; the combination is delicious. Fresno, ask my wife to get the fish stew cooking.”

“Yes, sir.” He turned on his heel and strode away on this errand.

John asked, “Is this the stew I had, last time I was here? If so, I agree that it is fine.”

“It is one of our favourites, Numa. We use smoked fish, cooked in milk until tender, then added to a pot of boiled potatoes, and seasoned to taste. If John liked it, you will enjoy it as well.”

“Smoked fish? Does that last a while before going off?”

“It does that; it dries the outside of the fish meat, but keeps the inside moist. We smoke other fish with the skin on, and that version of smoking is another which preserves the fish for several days.”

“Can we order some of this smoked fish to be delivered to us at our cave site? Alternatively, we can send someone to trade for it.”

“I am sure we can arrange something equitable to both our tribes. Do you do a similar smoked meat from land animals?”

“That can be arranged. We have set up a smoking device for the purpose. Our biggest problem is keeping the fire low enough to dry the meat without burning it.”

“Ah. We smoke our fish over a small slow-burning fire of wood chips, and the aromatic smoke is diffused into the flesh of the fish. That is part of what makes the smoked fish so delicious.”

“Good thinking. Slow burning, eh? Does that mean more smoke?”

“Yes. You get smoke rather than fire, which is what is wanted for the fish draped over thin poles of wood stretching across onto thick vertical timbers with grooves for the poles to sit in. If you can have timber uprights on all four sides, except for an access to get to the fire to add more wood chips, you get smoke all the way up. If any side is open, then a touch of wind will take most of the smoke away, and spoil your efforts.”

“How do you connect the four sides together?” John asked.

“We glue them together using a mixture of tough grass and resin (or even hoof glue). A good fit and a small fire prevents the wooden walls and the glue from getting too hot. Through use, smoke builds up on the inside of the wooden walls, and make them pretty well fireproof.”

Fresno reappeared by the Headman’s elbow.

“Fish stew will be ready by the time you get there, sir.”

“Right. I hope there is enough for all of you. Follow me.”

The line of warriors followed the headman home. There was a long set of tables and tripod stools laid outside the hut, and Mrs Headman was standing ready to order the six servers to start. They were standing with empty bowls until the guests sat down.

The guests sat down on the stools by the tables, and the serving began. The servers went into the hut and emerged with a steaming bowl to be placed in front of one of the guests, and a horn spoon handed over to eat with. The server went back to get another bowl for the next guest, until everyone was able to start eating.

The headman announced, “Enjoy!” and all dug into their bowls.

The servers hung around and as soon as a guest seemed to be about to empty the bowl, were there to ask, “Seconds?”

A fair number accepted, but not those whose pregnancy was further on. They might be eating for two, but did not have stomach space for two helpings just before the next part of the expedition.

John was in conference with the Chief, to find out what track would have been used by Corvo, and was expected to be used on his return. That was the one John’s party would use, so he asked how far to the next tribe. Learning that information, he decided there was time to get there today, so had a word with Numa to make sure all the female warriors would be able to cope with that final stretch today.

She insisted that there was no difficulty; that he was being a wimp of a man.

Slapped down, John accepted this decision, and made preparations accordingly.

Replete with their stew, the warrior group checked with Tempo that their weapons and supplies load was secure and that he was coping with it without help. He assured them that because of the occasional breaks and the relatively light load, he was managing fine.

They set off again, after John and Numa had offered their thanks for the hospitality, and promised similar hospitality should the Chief decide to visit them. They found the track easy for the first mile or so, then the forest closed in and the track was less straight. John took on the scouting ahead, and Tempo accepted one of the warriors with her spear as protection for him against anyone attacking from behind.

They tramped on into the afternoon, with toilet breaks as required. The stew made these stops necessary more frequently than John expected, but it suited everyone. Occasionally they met another traveller or two, but a simple ‘hello’ sufficed, and they went on.

John was estimating a short distance before the target tribe when they encountered Corvo and another man coming towards them.

Corvo was delighted to meet John, and even more happy to see all those women and just a few men in the party.

“John! Am I glad to see you! I didn’t think I would see you before tomorrow.”

John glowered at him, and glanced at the companion instead of replying. Corvo at last took note, and apologetically introduced his travelling companion.

“Oh, and this is Promo. He and I are on our way to the fisher village. He is interested in the folk of the Big ships. He wants to sail in one of these ships, to see a bit more of the world.”

John wanted to know more. “And where did you two meet?”

Promo volunteered, “I was visiting a tribe that Corvo came into, and we got to talking. He was telling me about rumours of an army coming from the north, and wanted to know how he could reach the southern army to warn them. He needed to get to the leaders HQ to pass on what information he had, and I explained that I had come past that encampment the day before. I explained how he could find it, but the local Chief wanted to speak with him, so he got diverted.

When he was free again, I said if he sent one of the locals to pass on his information, he could guide me to the fisher village and introduce me to the local Chief. He agreed, so that is why we are here.”

John was impressed with the detailed report from the man, but turned to Corvo.

“Does that cover everything, Corvo?”

“Yes, John, except that Promo approached me as I was introducing myself to the local Chief. He is quite a forward fellow, is Promo.”

“He is well organised, that is certain,” John agreed. “Did you get confirmation from the Chief about where the Leaders’ encampment was situated?”

“More of less. The Chief thought the distance was less than Promo had estimated.”

John found this interesting and asked Promo, “You must have passed through part of the southern army. What can you tell me about them, as you are an intelligent man?”

Promo’s eyes narrowed as the he thought, and then he said, “I was trying not to be noticed, so I did not enquire too closely about what was going on. I am afraid I can’t be as helpful as I might have been.”

“Well, let’s look at a few basics that you are bound to have seen. What arms did the soldiers have?”

“Oh, I see. Just spears, as I recall. No, they had daggers as well; looked a bit ferocious to me.”

“Fine. How well trained did you suppose they were, from their general demeanour?”

“Quite well trained, I think. They seemed to be quite sharp-eyed. Travellers had to account for themselves before being allowed to pass.”

“What account did you give them of yourself, Promo?”

“Myself? I told them I was a simple traveller on my way visit the shore and learn about what ships there were about, and that I wanted to travel the world.”

“Did they not want to know how you could afford to do that? They didn’t suggest you join them to see the world?”

Promo laughed heartily. “You mean, ‘join us and see the world?’ I don’t think that is my bag. No, I explained that my father was a wealthy Chief and that he wanted me to travel before coming back to learn to become the next Chief. That was the truth, after all.”

“Which school did you go to, Promo? Your speech indicates formal training somewhere. Was it Archimedes School, that I have heard so much about? Only the sons of the wealthy get to go there.”

Promo allowed his mouth to drop open. “How do you know about the Archimedes School? It is so far from here.”

John told him, “I come from far from here too, but my father could never afford the Archimedes School. I ended up with private tuition at home. My tutor had once taught at the school, and he had such tales of the things the lads got up to when they were not being watched. Apparently they smuggled a couple of girls in for entertainment, but the lads responsible were caught and sent home immediately.” John laughed at the memory.

Promo volunteered, “I heard that tale. I didn’t believe it, but if you heard it too, it must have been true.”

“I am sure it was. Tutor Monopoly was not one to tell untruths. He even admitted he left under a bit of a cloud, but would not say what he had done.”

“Monopoly, you say? That name means something to me; what was it? Oh, yes. There was a rumour that he was caught with a boy in what you would call ‘unfortunate circumstances’.” He rolled his eyes up to emphasise what he implied.

John nodded, “That would make sense. He never bothered me that way, but I always felt uncomfortable in his presence. Now, enough of this reminiscing. I have to speak privately with Corvo for a few minutes, so if you could just walk on down the track, he will catch up with you before long. The track goes all the way to the fisher village anyway.”

Promo grinned, “All right. I hope Corvo doesn’t tell tales about me either.”

John became serious. “Corvo is reliable, that way. What he says about me, though...” John grinned and patted Promo on the back, before turning to look for Corvo, who was chatting with Numa. “Damn! He is talking with my wife, the blaggard.”

Promo laughed delightedly, and walked off down the track.

John watched as Promo set off, waiting until he was off in the distance before going to speak with Corvo.

Numa noticed him coming, and nudged Corvo, who turned and smiled.

John said to him, “What do you think of Promo?”

“Seems a very friendly guy. Seems to know everybody as well. Why?”

“What did you tell him about me and what I was doing?”

Corvo frowned at this interrogation. He was not used to John speaking like this.

“Very little. I may have mentioned that you were a Chief, wanting to know what was happening with the armies, so that you could protect your tribe. Did I do wrong?”

“No, that was fine, but he is going to wonder why I am here with a bunch of warriors. When he asks, tell him that I am trying to teach women how to be warriors, and that this is a training expedition to test their abilities.”

“Huh? It could very well be, for all I know. Why else would you be doing this?”

“I will tell you later. First, the messages you sent with the traders. The facts were missing the most important bits of information: the location of the two tribes. One was the Bamboo tribe. Where is that situated, in relation to where we are?”

Corvo sat John down and sketched a map on the ground with a stick. “We are here, and the bamboo village is over there. The camp is inside a very large patch of a variety of bamboos. I have never seen so many bamboo trees.”

John nodded, adding it to his mental map. “Got it. The other one, the High Tree village; where is it?”

“Oh, around a half day’s walk from the bamboo village, but in this direction.” he gestured, and drew a line with the stick. “Over here.”

John then repeated the messages he had received at the fisher village. “were these bits of information accurately passed on?”

“Yes, sounds right, from my own memory. It was a couple of days ago.”

“Be sure, Corvo. It is important.”

“Yes, I am certain these words are accurate.”

“Good. One can never be certain about messages passed on by word of mouth.”

Corvo quizzed John, “Tell me now what you were thinking of saying about Promo.”

“Simple. Promo is an invader spy, looking for information; nothing specific, I think, but word has got back to them about there being a couple of Big ships at the coast, and he has been sent to learn more about them. As they have left, there will not be much for him to find, so I won’t bother to kill him if he doesn’t pose a threat to me and my warriors. Keep him away from going back to the south, and that will do. Pretend you know very little about me; that you were just doing a job for me as a thank you for helping you with something else. Be non-specific, suggesting you would be embarrassed to talk about it: say nothing!”

“All right. I can do that. Any other job you want doing?”

“Not immediately, but if everything turns out as I hope, I may have more work for you. Do you think you could make a good trader?”

“I think so, from all the contacts I have made.”

“Then that is your story. I have been testing you out for a job as a trader form my tribe. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks, John. I have enjoyed doing all this. I even met a girl I might go back and look for.”

“That would be a good idea. Tell Promo he is on the right track for the fisher village and you want to go looking now for a girl you have taken a fancy to. Send him on by himself, and go look for your girl.”

“Yes, John.”

Corvo rushed to catch up with the spy while John stood and smiled to himself. Numa noticed, and sidled up to him.

“John? You look happy, as if you have just fucked me and Noma together. You don’t do that often enough, my love. What is the reason today?”

John looked her in the eye, and said quietly, “That Promo is an invader spy, and had latched on to Corvo as a means of getting introduced to the fishers. I sent Promo on ahead, with a promise that Corvo would follow. I have told Corvo the truth, and advised him to go look for the girl that took his eye in one of the tribes recently.”

“But the spy? You are not going to kill him?”

“No. He is looking for information about the Big ships, but he will only get second-hand data from the captives who are now living with the fishers. He knows little about me, and I have told Corvo to keep it that way. He is to say, if asked, that we are on a training expedition to teach the girls about working with spears. I hope Promo didn’t notice any of the bows. The ones on the travois are wrapped up for protection from dampness. Corvo wouldn’t be able to tell him anything about these, for he doesn’t know what we have been doing.”

“But wait a moment! John, how did you know the man was a spy?”

“Primarily experience. There are signs if you know what to look for. His manner and speech was too perfect for a simple soldier; he had to have been educated somewhere. To test that out, I invented a famous school and suggested that he had been educated there. I spun him a tale of my father not being able to afford it, but got a private tutor who was an ex-member of staff, to teach me. That was the rationale for me knowing about the school, but not enough to be able to contradict anything he said about it. He took the bait, and said he had been educated there, and had heard about my tutor. He said the tutor had to resign after being caught fucking one of the boys. Neither of us used these words, but we knew what each meant. I also asked him about the invader army that he had passed through, and he made them out as a bunch of tough guys, well trained and fearsome. He was not going to admit the truth, that they are slackers doing the minimum with very little training.”

Numa giggled, “So he was telling you lies, and you were telling him lies?”

“Yes, except that I knew it was all lies, and he only knew that his description of the soldiers was lies. He took my schooling tales as truth. That all proved he was a spy, and it was just a matter of what he was a spy FOR; his target for information.

It appeared to be aimed at the Big ships visiting the coast. I suspect they want to get their hands on one or more of these big beasts as troop transports.”

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