Chapter 8

Mak dozed fitfully through the long night, rousing now and again to glance over at the two women and make sure that they were still safe. There was just enough starlight seeping through rents in the hide walls for him to make them out, curled up together like a pair of sleepy kittens. Several times he went to the door and peered carefully out at the quiet village, at last being rewarded by the sight of shadowy figures standing guard outside the brush palisade. King Bann was indeed taking no chances on his 'guests' escaping his hospitality.

He woke the others at the first hint of dawn. Soon a spear shaft drummed against the side of their hut to announce the coming of the King. With unhurried dignity Mak and the two women emerged to confront their host.

"Now come all! Now come all! Hear what I, King Bann speak." His voice was solemn as he called all his villagers to attend his words. The men drew up in uneven ranks, while women and children clustered together, peering at the strangers from a safe distance.

"King Bann has been given a dream! TorrHa smiles on our village. He sends woman with hair of flame to be new priestess of TorrHa, wife to Shaman KannYutt." A wave of his massive arm indicated the tall warrior who had led their capture. "He sends dark skinned woman to be wife of King Bann. TorrHa says this to King Bann in dream. King Bann is favored of TorrHa!"

"King Bann's lies stink even worse than he does." Mak's acid comment stopped Bann with his mouth open. "King Bann is a big fat coward, hiding behind his brave warriors for protection. He is afraid to meet one small stranger barehanded. King Bann has the brains of a louse, to risk bringing the wrath of the Great Ones against his village." Mak went on for several more sentences, describing the King's appearance, morals, and lack of any semblance of ascertainable ancestry.

"Silence!" King Bann at last found his voice. "Silence, before I have you torn apart between two trees!"

"Who will you have do this thing? Your warriors are brave men who would seek a more worthy foe than one small, hairy, unarmed stranger. You should call on your wives to spank me if you are so afraid to meet me yourself. Or are you getting so old and fat that you cannot even make your wives obey you?"

The clustered warriors were now grinning openly at the sight of the cocky little stranger taunting their ruler, and a few were openly laughing. This was too much for the enraged King, who had never been so defied in all his years as tribal ruler. With a roar, he lunged with widespread arms. His grasping hands pawed at Mak, as though to seize him and crush the life from him in a single instant.

Mak slid a half step to the left and sank a terrific right fist deep into the monarch's bulging stomach, then ducked under his opponent's outstretched arm. The King's breath whooshed out and he staggered back, gasping for air. As Mak danced away he swung about and tried once more to grasp his smaller opponent.

Mak ducked away again, letting fly a flurry of punches that did little damage. "Here I am, oh mighty King!" He threw himself to one side as Bann lunged, stretching out one leg to trip the King and send him flying full length in the dust. Before Bann could recover he darted in and grabbed the King's ankle, pulling him backward on his face through a particularly juicy pile of filth until Bann kicked free.

Mad with rage, the King lost all vestiges of caution. Screaming curses at the top of his lungs, he crouched low and waddled toward his tormentor with both arms flailing. Mak staggered back, nearly falling as a huge fist caught him on the side of the head, and he desperately circled away on rubbery legs until the effect of the blow wore off. He knew that if Bann managed to catch hold of him, he was done for!

"Here I am," he taunted. "Right here in front of you. Are you too fat and slow to catch me?"

King Bann roared his anger, charging after his smaller opponent. Mak danced aside once more, then reached out and snared the King's wrist. As Bann lunged at him with his other arm, Mak twisted and pulled, swinging with all his might at the angle of Bann's chin. The punch was off target, just a fraction low, but the impact brought King Bann up onto his toes, glaring fiendishly at Mak. Then like a falling tree the monarch toppled full length and lay twitching in the dust, choking and strangling as he tried vainly to draw in air past his crushed throat.

As the life left King Bann's body, Mak took advantage of the shocked silence to challenge the village warriors. "Do any now doubt that we come from the Great Ones?"

The warriors, astounded at this easy victory over their dreaded King, stood silent as Mak harangued them.

"Who among you would dispute our right to come and go as we wish?" There was a sullen stirring among the warriors.

Mak flexed his aching hand, hoping that nothing was broken. "Bring us food and weapons. We shall depart from among you, but always remember that the Great Ones are returning. Treat travelers with respect, for you know not when the Great Ones will be watching."

A large, unkempt warrior suddenly stepped forward, an evil grin revealing strong white teeth. Mak remembered him as the leader of the party that had brought them to the village. "You talk big, but KannYutt is a real man, a shaman and a warrior, not a fat old King. I say that you lie. The Great Ones do not come. There are no Great Ones. Now KannYutt is TorrHa's King and Shaman, and keeps both women for wives. I say you not go!"

Mak started to reply but Jewel touched his arm, whispering, "Let me handle this." She stepped forward to face the burly warrior, looking him up and down with a sneer of disgust. After a moment she laughed in his face and turned as though to walk away.

KannYutt grabbed at her, shouting a stream of words that Mak didn't catch, and she whirled to face him. What followed was too fast for the eye to see. Her open hands slashed at him like knives, first hitting with the tips of her fingers, then chopping with the edges of her palms at the stomach, face and neck of the startled warrior. She finished with flashing kicks to his face, belly and crotch, and her victim was left a whimpering heap of twitching, quivering, agonized flesh. She turned again and walked away, this time unhindered.

Nothing more was necessary. The thoroughly cowed warriors fell all over themselves in their eagerness to speed these demoninfested strangers on their way. The sun was only a few spans above the trees as the three venturers strode forth boldly. They headed south once more through the forest, armed with stout flinttipped spears and carrying light packs. The floor of the forest was fairly open beneath its canopy of ancient trees, and they made good time since for now they had no need to gather food along the way.

Lyssa was quieter than her usual wont as they traveled. That night as they prepared to bed down, she ventured somewhat timidly, "You were very brave back there, Mak. I was so proud of you when you defeated that awful King Bann."

Mak was glad that the hair on his face covered the blush that he was sure was there. "I caught him off balance. Anyway, he was too mad to fight well. The one I expected to have trouble handling was that big warrior, KannYutt. What did you do to him, Jewel? I never saw anything like it in my life."

"It is a way of unarmed combat taught in, in my home village. It takes speed and practice, but it shouldn't really be necessary for one who can hit as hard as you." She smiled approvingly at his muscular form. "If you want me to, I can start to teach you some of it when we have time."

The two women flashed amused glances at each other as he tried stammeringly to change the subject. "What land is it that you come from? I have never heard of such a way of fighting, nor even tales of anyone with skin as dark of yours."

"Many in my land have skin this color, and others with skins of yellowish or reddish brown. Of where my land is, I may not tell you at this time. Now we must rest. I would guess none of us slept really well last night."

They made nests of grass and leaves against a rocky bank and built a small fire for protection against animals. Lyssa made her bed between Mak's and Jewel's, and when something made noises in the night she moved even closer, but the next morning she was as aloof as ever.

The next few days were much of a pattern. They would awaken at the first light of dawn. After a hasty breakfast they would shoulder their everlighter packs and set off between the trees, moving south as directly as the lay of the land would permit. The country soon became more and more familiar to Mak.

One night he murmured to Lyssa as she lay with her head pillowed on her rolledup cloak, "Tomorrow we should reach the village of Carfon. They may have heard something about our caravan."

Lyssa muttered sleepy agreement. "That's good," she whispered contentedly before dropping off to sleep.

The sun was well up when they reached the edge of the village fields. Mak led the way, circling around to where a low hill gave them a clear view of Carfon's one gate, telling the two women to wait out of sight of the village.

"I'll go in alone. They might not let me in if they see more than one of us, and we'll just have to hope that they haven't gotten the word about me being an outcast. Carfon villagers don't hunt much, so you should be safe here. If they have heard that I'm an outcast from village Wallen, they won't be any too glad to see me even if I'm alone. No village likes having outcasts around. They're too often spies for bands of outlaws. I just hope that they'll be willing to give me some food and send me on my way."

Lyssa smiled at him. "Hurry back. Try not to get into any fights."

He just grinned at her, and strode away humming one of the traders' marching songs under his breath.

Although it was nearly noontime the gate in the log palisade was only open a crack, and nobody was working in the untidy fields. He had no more than left the shelter of the trees when there was a warning cry and the gate was slammed tightly shut. Warily, he walked up the path and stopped well beyond easy arrowshot of the closed gate.

"Hello, the village," he called. "It's me, Mak the Hunter from village Wallen. Open the gate."

"Are you alone?" The voice from beyond the gate was highpitched, nervous.

"Of course I'm alone. What's wrong?"

"Leave your spear outside, then you can come in."

The gate creaked open slightly. Laying down his spear, Mak edged through the opening. A young man stood just inside, gripping a spear of his own. When he saw that Mak was alone and unarmed, he pushed the gate shut and relaxed. Mak recognized him from his previous visits to village Carfon.