Bunduki (Bunduki Series Book One) (8 page)

Ever nearer swooped the huge bird. The
six-foot-six-inch spread of the broad wings, the width of its
breast and the great fan of the rather long, squared-off tail
seemed to be blocking out the sky. Its enormous curved talons
appeared to be growing bigger as they rushed in the girl’s
direction.

After having gained no more than
seventeen inches of the draw, Dawn did not dare wait any longer.
She was aiming by instinctive alignment. However, at such short
range, it would be accurate enough for her needs. Unhooking her
fingers, she released the straining string.

The arrow was propelled forward, but
at far less than the full seventy pounds’ pressure.

Would it have gathered sufficient
momentum to achieve its purpose?

Across the chasm, the riders were
watching with considerable interest and mixed emotions.

Dryaka, High Priest of the
Mun-Gatah nation, had been furious when Charole sent her harpy
eagle after the girl. Although his original thoughts had been of
the libidinous pleasures he would have at the expense of the
beautiful stranger after her capture, he had decided that she might
serve an even more useful purpose. Clearly she
was strong and had claimed to
be a warrior. Perhaps she could help him to dispose of the greatest
threat to the powerful position which he held among his
people.

For her part, Charole had guessed what
the high priest had had in mind when she noticed the change in the
way he had been studying the girl across the chasm. Charole could
only retain her rights and title of Protectress of the Quagga God
as long as no other woman could wrest them from her. Just as she
constantly hoped to find a man who would destroy Dryaka for her, so
the High Priest was forever seeking a woman capable of deposing
her. Knowing that her removal from office was the main reason for
Dryaka’s desire to see Dawn captured, Charole had been determined
that the girl would be seriously injured—or killed—before she fell
into their hands.

Having launched the eagle, the
Protectress settled comfortably on her saddle. Real cruelty showed
on her beautiful face as the bird sped upon its mission and she
ignored Dryaka’s obvious displeasure at her actions.

There were few of the Mun-Gatah
people, brave warriors as many of them undoubtedly were, who would
have dared to deliberately incur the High Priest’s wrath. However,
while Dryaka possessed great power, Charole could claim to be of
equal importance. As Protectress of the Quagga God, particularly
while she had the active support of three out of the six members of
the ruling Council of Elders, she had little to fear from the
scowling man by her side. In fact, as long as she held her high
office and could claim the backing of sufficient followers, she was
virtually the co-ruler of the Mun-Gatah nation.

Watching the eagle swooping
towards Dawn, Charole smiled. It had been trained to tackle human
beings, although they had up to that point always been bound and
helpless slaves. The results had always been highly entertaining
and she felt sure that they would be even more so on this occasion.
Having seen the terrible damage that the bird could inflict with
its talons and beak, she
doubted whether the stranger would pose any
further threat to her after the completion of the
attack.

Realizing that Charole had deduced the
real reason for his interest in Dawn, Dryaka was equally aware of
the girl’s danger. Much as he would have liked to call a warning
when Dawn had not appeared to know that the eagle was following
her, he had known better than to do so. The balance of power
between himself and the Protectress was so even that it might
easily be tilted in either’s favor. If he had helped a foreigner,
especially should she escape as a result of it, he would be placing
a powerful lever in his rival’s hands. Nor would she be slow in
making use of it. As always, the hunting party was comprised of an
equal number of his and her supporters. Let him lose control of his
adherents’ loyalty and he might never again see the Temple of the
Quagga God.

With that in mind, Dryaka drew what
consolation he could as he saw the girl had become aware of her
peril and was turning to meet it. If she could not protect herself,
then she lacked the qualities which he required. To handle that
unusual, powerful-looking bow would call for strength and skill. If
those qualities were matched by fighting prowess—and, apart from
the Telonga, most of the nations had their share of women
warriors—her capture might provide him with the means to remove
Charole. When that had been brought about, he would ensure the next
Protectress was somebody more amenable to his will. He hoped that
Dawn would prove worthy of his confidence.

Dryaka would very soon know the
answer!

Holding her breath, Dawn watched the
arrow and the diving eagle as they converged and met. Their
combined speeds caused the four-blade Bear Razorhead’s needle-sharp
point to impale the black-plumed breast and its quadruple cutting
edges slashed their way through to reach the vital
organs.

Almost as soon as the arrow had
passed beyond the
bow’s handle-riser, Dawn flung herself aside. She saw the
eagle jerk upon being hit. Screaming in agony, its controlled
diving flight turned into a dying plunge earthwards. One wildly
flailing wing brushed her shoulder in passing, but she had avoided
any serious—or even minor—injury. Swinging around and reaching to
pivot an arrow from the bow-quiver, she watched the bird’s death
throes as it crashed to the ground and felt a touch of sympathetic
sorrow for having been the cause of them.

‘
May the Quagga God stamp
you dead, foreign bitch!’

Redolent of feminine hatred and anger,
the screamed out words reached Dawn’s ears and drew her attention
from the magnificent creature that she had been compelled to kill.
Nocking the arrow to the bow’s string, she swung her gaze to the
people on the other side of the chasm. The second group were riding
down the slope and, having leapt from his zebra, the eagle’s
attendant started shaking his fists furiously at the
girl.

However, it was the gold-clad beauty
and the tall man who were of the most interest to Dawn. The woman
was screaming more curses and seemed almost besides herself with
rage. Although the girl could not be certain at that distance, she
got the impression that the man was pleased by her escape from the
eagle.

Cold anger started to surge through
Dawn as she listened to some of the vile threats that the woman was
shrieking at her. She became filled with an almost uncontrollable
desire to silence the other’s raging voice by serving her in the
same way that she had treated the eagle. Before Dawn could stop
herself, she raised and began to draw the bow.

Charole’s furious tirade died away as
she saw what the girl was doing. Alarm bit at her as she realized
just how vulnerable to reprisals she was. The powerful looking bow
would propel its arrow at her as easily as the eagle had winged
across the chasm and be even more deadly if it struck
home.

For a moment Charole was tempted to
fling herself from the saddle and hide behind her quagga’s body.
She restrained the impulse just in time, being aware of how
Dryaka’s clique and, even more important, her own followers would
react to such a display of cowardice. Flickering a glance at the
High Priest, she found that he was watching her. The mocking sneer
on his face implied that he had noticed her fear and deduced what
she had been contemplating. In which case, there was no easy way in
which she could avoid the danger.

With the bow in the shooting position
and its arrow almost drawn to the full, reason returned to Dawn.
The two riders were drawing closer and every second’s delay was
decreasing her already slim chances of reaching the woodland.
Turning her head, she discovered that they were less than a quarter
of a mile away.

Forgetting her intention of taking
revenge on the woman who had been reviling her, the girl swung away
and resumed her flight. Although she allowed the arrow to slide
forward under control, she once again left it in position. She was
accepting the difficulty of running like that against the benefit
of having it ready for immediate use.

‘
It
is
a
pity that your eagle failed to stop her, Charole,’ Dryaka remarked,
in tones of mock commiseration. ‘If you wish, I’ll let you have
your revenge when Tomlu catches her.’

‘
That
is
kind
of you,’ the Protectress answered, with a poison-sweet
politeness. ‘And when Ragbuf brings her to me, I’ll let you have
her—after
I’ve
finished with her.’

Neither Charole nor Dryaka would
willingly allow their respective factions to become the weaker, so
each had sent one man to scout for game across the river. Whichever
reached the departing girl first would be able to claim her for his
leader.

Having heard the brief exchange of
comments, the six riders from the ridge separated into their two
factions.

They moved into position behind their
leaders and watched the scouts galloping recklessly in pursuit of
the foreign girl.

Being fully aware of the rivalry
between their leaders; Ragbuf and Tomlu did not need to be told
that the Protectress and the High Priest would each want to take
the girl for his, or her, own use. So the scouts were mutually
determined to be the one who made the capture. Considerably smaller
and lighter than his companion, Ragbuf began to draw ahead.
Snarling a curse, Tomlu tried to force more speed out of his
zebra.

‘
What will you do with her,
Charole?’ asked the woman whose footwear followed the style worn by
the Protectress, throwing a triumphant glance at her opposite
number in Dryaka’s faction as Ragbuf gained a full length’s lead on
Tomlu.

Before any reply could be made,
Ragbuf’s mount dropped its right front hoof into a hole. Screaming
with agony as the leg snapped, it went down and pitched its rider
over its head. Concentrating on the girl, he was unable to save
himself and was catapulted helplessly to the ground. The lance flew
from his hand as he made a belated attempt to break his fall.
Failing to do so, he landed head first. There was a sharp pop as
his neck broke and his body slid onwards for a few feet. Whooping
derisively and not offering to stop to see how badly the other man
was injured, Tomlu galloped by.

‘
You don’t seem to have the
Quagga God’s favor today, Charole,’ commented the sultry, beautiful
brunette from her place at the High Priest’s left side.

‘
Perhaps
you
would like to see how far He has withdrawn his
favor, Elidor?’ the Protectress spat back viciously and her right
hand crossed to the hilt of her sword.

‘
Tomlu will
soon have her,’ Elidor said, without meeting Charole’s challenging
gaze. Instead, as she was not ready to take up the other’s offer
and yet was equally
unwilling to make her refusal obvious, she
pretended to be wholly absorbed in the pursuit.

If the Protectress had been less
interested in the result of the chase, she might have forced the
issue. Elidor was her most prominent rival and Dryaka’s choice to
be her successor. As yet, they had not clashed but Charole knew
that it was only a matter of time before they must. However, she
intended to be the one who chose when, where and how it took place.
Believing herself to be the better swordswoman, she was determined
that they would be the weapons selected when the confrontation
happened. For the moment, she decided to forego the opportunity and
continued to stare across the chasm.

Hearing the scream of the zebra,
followed by the crashes as it and its rider struck the ground, Dawn
threw a glance over her shoulder. One of her pursuers was down, but
the other showed no sign of stopping to help him.

Striding along as fast as her legs
would carry her, the girl accepted that she could not hope to reach
the trees. Nor, if she kept running at that pace, would she be in
any condition to defend herself should the need arise—which it was
practically certain to do.

With her bosom heaving and straining
at the dress’s fastenings as she sought to replenish her lungs,
Dawn halted and turned towards her pursuer. He was big, burly, very
muscular and had a surly, brutal face. Even with the extensive
knowledge of various forms of unarmed combat acquired during her
formative tomboy years and never forgotten, she doubted whether she
could fight him off with her bare hands. Nor was she enamored with
the idea of using her knife.

That left her with the Ben Pearson
Marauder bow and its fiber glass arrows.

Dawn felt considerable qualms
about the possibility of having to take another human being’s life.
Watching the man galloping closer, she forced herself to accept
that
she
might not have any other choice. Nothing in his attitude,
particularly the way in which he had ignored his fallen companion,
suggested that he might be disposed towards mercy and compassion.
In fact, his whole demeanor implied exactly the opposite. If his
expression was any guide, he was already savoring the pleasures
which he felt sure would be his after he had made her a
captive.