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The Phantom Pilot Ch. 02

By: Five_Eight



The Sheikh bid us good morning. Namtor and I wished him the same. Then he said to me, "How are you feeling today?"

I managed to remain calm, "The knot's almost gone from the back of my head, but my memory's still blank."

"Well, you might want to remember not to rile up the girls."

I started to protest when a sideways glance from Namtor told me not to offer any excuses. I settled for: "Yes, sir."

"You might also remember the camp rule that the men are not supposed to associate with the slaves without my permission." The Sheikh fixed his hypnotic stare on me. "Thwart, you're a lucky man. You're young, you're tough, a good-looking boy. Enough of a stud to cause women to fight over you. The men in the camp envy your swordsmanship and your popularity with the girls, but they respect you. And you know you have my respect as well." He added with a threatening undertone, "Be careful not to lose it."

When he marched off to oversee the breaking of the camp his departure left a hole in the air.

Namtor said, "Man, I never saw him crawl up your back like that before. You know you aren't supposed to be around the girls."

I ground my teeth in fury. Was I mad at the Sheikh? Or Namtor, or the whole world. "How do you think he knew what happened?" I demanded.

"The Sheikh has more than just two eyes. One of his snitches probably ran and told him."

"Kyle? He was standing over there a minute ago."

"Maybe," he said thoughtfully. "Look, man, try to relax." He tried a smile on me, but it didn't work. "Why don't we get breakfast before it gets too late? We've got a hard ride ahead of us."

I let out a deep breath. "Where did you say we were riding to?"

"Deeper into Askaar country. The Sheikh is not content to merely caress his slave girls and have them lick his body. He's after that witch doctor's aphrodisiac. We'll be in the saddle all day."

I tried to calm down, but remained irritated by the morning's turn of events. A good meal definitely couldn't hurt so I followed Namtor through the camp to find the cooking fires. Even though I'd smelled bacon earlier it surprised me to sit down to a traditional breakfast of bacon and eggs. No coffee though, we drank water from skins. A young man like Thwart didn't need coffee to get started in the morning like old man Walker. After eating I still felt nettled, but said nothing when Namtor took me to the pens to introduce me to my camel. The animal seemed to know me and showed more affection than the one I'd encountered earlier. 

"I believe Thwart has given this beast the name of She-she," Namtor informed me.

Was he joking by referring to me in the third person, or making an innocent comment? The words chafed, fueled my anger. Since waking in Thwart's body I had thought it prudent not to divulge my secret to anyone, for my own safety. Superstitious people who believed in gray gods, and who knew what else, might draw and quarter me as a heretic if I told the truth. For that reason Namtor's comments were getting under my skin. His joking could get me killed. 

Also, I feared I was having trouble controlling Thwart's young man's temper. I took a deep breath, forced myself to relax.

She-she squatted docilely to allow me into the saddle. I had only ridden horses on Earth and soon discovered the difference in riding a dromendary. The cosmic humor of my trading a Sopwith Camel for a real camel was not lost on me. Before I got fully acclimated to my new mount the cracking of the Sheikh's whip signaled the caravan to get underway. About that time it dawned on me that I had yet to look through Thwart's possessions. Worse, I hadn't even packed for the day's journey.

"What about our tent, and our gear?" I asked anxiously as Namtor and I rode side by side.

"The caravan workers take care of that. Our belongings are secured with our tent. These same workers also beat the bush to keep the wild animals away from us. They'll set up camp at the end of the day and lay our things out nice and neat." He chuckled, "Which you will promptly make a mess of."

Was he trying to bait me?  

Weary of his jokes and innuendo I steered She-she away from him to do some exploring on my own. I had it in my mind to find Jadda regardless of orders or whatever rules existed, but that could wait till I felt more confident in the saddle and regained a measure of my composure. 

At the head of the caravan several men with great cleavers like Namtor's cleared a passage through the underbrush. When the party finally lumbered onto the southern trail the men had less clearing to do, but their work was far from done. Some obstruction or other constantly slowed the progress. 

Our outriders consisted of men on swift ponies who rode up and down the line, prepared to mount an attack on any foe menacing the caravan, be it savage beasts or savage tribesmen. The camels I'd seen resembled their Earthly counterparts whereas the horses appeared to be either much larger or smaller than the ones of Earth. I tried to imagine the size of the elephants and the ferocity of the lions that populated that godforsaken jungle. Archers with crossbows and men on foot carried spears in defense against predators from the wilds.

Once comfortable on camelback I decided to ride over to the coaches. I still hadn't gotten to talk to Jadda and wondered what she would have to say. Careful not to let the Sheikh see me I rode toward the coach I'd seen Jadda enter. Ahead of me Kyle sat astride his camel, conversing with some slave girls who leaned from the windows of that coach. When I drew nearer I saw the conversation took place between Jadda and Kyle. 

The morning had started out pleasant enough for me, but after Danae's kiss everything had gone straight to hell. I'd been humiliated by a camel in front of my peers, dressed down by the Sheikh, had fallen out with Namtor and had had a devil of a time reeling in Thwart's red hot temper. This latest development was trouble waiting to happen. Thwart's urges proved stronger than Walker's sense or I would have ridden away. I should have talked with Jadda later, saw no need to confront Kyle, neither with my suspicions, nor in the foul mood I was in.

In the end I directed She-she toward the coaches. 

I thought about what to say, taking it easy and making no judgments until I knew Jadda's feelings. Pledging to myself to ignore Kyle, no matter what he said, I drew up alongside the coach.

"How are you today?" I asked Jadda.

She had been laughing at something Kyle said and pretended not to hear my question. Kyle made it apparent he didn't like his conversation intruded upon. His sneer warned me to get out of his sight. I ignored his truculent stare. Last night I'd done the same when I felt like breaking his jaw. Kyle and I both knew that sooner rather than later we would cross swords.

The anger built inside me, I knew I should have stayed away. 

Jadda finally glanced at me, her words full of condescension: "Did you say something, Thwart?"

Biting my tongue I repeated, "I asked how are you today." 

"I'm going to be punished tonight because of you." So she was mad! She couldn't resist adding, "So is your friend Danae. Which will make it worth it, for me. She can't handle the lash like I can."

"I wanted to explain about that. Danae came up and kissed me."

"You didn't seem to be doing much objecting," she said, wrinkling her forehead.

Danae chose that moment from the coach behind us to say, "Hi, Thwart."

"Hi, Thwart," mimicked Jadda. "Why don't you go give her a kiss?"

"But . . ."

Kyle sniggered at my awkwardness. "Did you know a camel spit on him today, Jadda?" He laughed when he said it. 

"Is that so?" said Jadda gaily.

"Funniest thing I've ever seen, Thwart thrashing around like a drowning rat. Everybody saw it, he almost got his head stomped flat."

Enough was enough. Although my irritation had reached the boiling point I maintained a calm exterior and smiled my cockiest smile at him, "There's a lot of that going around. It could happen to you, baldy."

Laughter sounded from the girls inside the coach. Jadda was smiling; not at me, but at what I'd said and I felt better already.

"What did you say?" bellowed Kyle.

"Speak up, I didn't hear you."

His face got red. "I told you to repeat what you said!"

"What are you going to do, spit on me?" More laughter. I was ahead on points, but he outweighed me by four stone.

"I'm ordering you away from the coaches and these girls, Thwart! You know the rules."

"What are you doing here?"

"The Sheikh assigned me to guard the slaves today," snickered Kyle. "And I'm ordering you to get away from here, son."

"Or you'll inform the Sheikh?"

"It's my duty, I'm just doing my duty. Now get out of here so Jadda and I can finish making plans for tonight."

He was lucky my sword didn't send his head rolling among the weeds. I made eye contact with Jadda, but she maintained an empty face. 

I said, "Her plans are to get out of your sight as fast as she can so she can spend the night in my tent."

"That's not what she told me."

"I'm sure you can convince some camp girl to take pity on you."

The slaves laughed, one and all, and Kyle's face reddened again. 

"Last night I patrolled the perimeter. Today I'm riding herd on the girls. Tonight I get my pick of the Sheikh's favorites. Is there any doubt who I'm going to make scream with joy, punk?"

"I was wondering what Jadda's punishment was going to be." I looked at Jadda, "You have my sympathies."

The slaves laughed louder than ever. 

Kyle and I taunted each other like two boys in a schoolyard. Finally his wit ran dry and he cursed me like a commoner.

"I hear the Sheikh calling you, Kyle. He's changed your assignment; he needs someone to gather camel dung for the fires."

The laughter issuing from the coach at Kyle's expense finally got to him. He fixed the evil eye on the girls to silence them. They hushed immediately not knowing the next time they would be chained and at his mercy.

"You've had your last warning, boy," Kyle snarled.

"Stop, you're frightening me," I mocked him. 

He lunged his dromendary against She-she in an effort to knock me to the ground. My steel left its scabbard a second before his, my point a centimeter from his Adam's apple. I had him dead to rights, but he revealed little fear, his sword steady in his hand. Now what? I could no more kill one of the Sheikh's top hands than he would whip the skin off a prime slave girl; not unless I wanted to be flayed to the bone with his bullwhip. We faced each other for an endless minute. Kyle called the play, and a clever one at that. Suddenly he jammed his heels into his mount and the animal reared back, removing Kyle from harm's way. Spooked by the other camel She-she bucked and threw me from the saddle. I hit the turf hard on my back. My head slammed the ground. Agony lanced from the knot on my head through my entire body.

Despite the pain, I still possessed Thwart's excellent sense of hearing, detected the quiet pads of Kyle's dromendary bearing down. When the beast was almost upon me I rolled away through the tall grass at the final moment. Somehow I managed to stagger to my feet before Kyle got the camel turned around for a second pass. From behind me I heard the cries of slave girls and the yelling of men. Like me, Kyle is right-handed so I stood to the right of his mount when he charged me. I wanted him to think I meant to engage his sword from that side. In those fleeting seconds a battle strategy formed swiftly and with clarity in my aching head. Casually I sheathed my sword. The camel raced nearer; Kyle's blade raised to deliver the triumphant chop. At the last second I sprinted left underneath the long neck of the camel before its paws crushed me, snatching at the left stirrup. Letting inertia drive me I hauled myself up feet first, driving my heels under Kyle's left arm. Off he went. Ideally I'd hoped to gain the saddle, but that part of the plan failed. My feet came down, I lost my footing sprinting backward next to the camel while pushing myself away from it at the same time. I took a hard tumble in the grass. Sheer bloodlust had me on my feet before Kyle got to his. 

When he saw me coming with upraised sword he scampered up quickly to parry my blade. A mighty oath burst from me as I sped forth. I lashed down for the killing blow, astonished that Kyle turned my blade at the last instant. There was no finesse in his counterstroke, he accomplished what he did solely through brute strength. 

The next exchange would be different. 

The next exchange would belong to me.

Our blades met in a blur. When the exchange was finished his blade flickered through the sunslight to land in the grass fifteen meters away. I had mine clenched firmly in both hands with the point at his heaving chest. For the first time I saw fear in his eyes. I lifted my sword slowly overhead for effect. Before I could split his miserable skull I heard the whistling of the Sheikh's bullwhip, felt it winding around my blade. Snaring my sword neatly with his whip the Sheikh yanked the weapon out of my fists. 

I went at Kyle with my bare hands.

At the same time I heard Portor screaming my name.

Halting in my tracks I realized a circle of archers surrounded Kyle and me. Had either of us made a move we'd have been full of arrows. Portor had his crossbow aimed at Kyle. "Go ahead, take a swing at Thwart," he invited, "I'll put a quarrel between your eyes."

Kyle remained as still as a statue.

"Enough!" yelled the Sheikh, the first time I'd ever heard him raise his voice. "Gather up their weapons and put them in chains."

A dozen hands jerked Kyle backward while an equal number fell on me, twisting my arms behind me. We both went facedown in the grass under the weight of numbers. Chains rattled and manacles went around my wrists and ankles. Keys turned in locks and no longer had I any freedom of movement. When the men finished fettering me they hauled me to my feet. Kyle and I were brought before the Sheikh.

He sat in the saddle of a beautiful white charger coiling his whip. After he looped it from the saddle horn he dismounted and approached us. Kyle stood to my left, arms shackled behind him, a short length of chain attached to a cuff on each ankle that would permit him to take only the smallest of steps. I didn't have to look down to know I was identically chained.

Portor hastened to the side of the Sheikh. "I saw the whole incident, sir. Kyle started this."

"Thwart wouldn't leave the girls alone, Sheikh, I was only doing my duty," Kyle explained.

"Silence," the Sheikh roared. 

A quiet descended except for the clink of chain and the wind whispering through the verdant greenery. A bird screeched in the jungle.

The Sheikh stood so close to my face I smelled his fetid breath. He said nothing for a long time. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. Disdain painted his face almost black, sadness lurked in the corners of his dark eyes. His ghutra billowed around his head. He walked around us, his men standing well out of his way. 

When he faced us again he spoke softly, "If I hadn't paid such a high price for you two I'd leave your heads stuck on spears in this field to bleach in the suns. But you've done good work for me. Both of you." He shook his head like a father whose sons recklessly committed folly after folly. "That won't excuse you though." The Sheikh turned his back on us and said bitterly between his teeth: "I have to discipline two of my top girls tonight and, now, two of my top men. This pains me very much, but how can I let these offenses go unpunished?" 

The Sheikh faced us once more, said evilly: "So you two want to fight? All right, I'll give you your chance." 

He got back in the saddle of his charger. To Portor he said: "Chain them to opposite sides of the last wagon and let them walk all day."

"But, Sheikh," protested Portor, "this man fell off a cliff yesterday."

"Do you question my decision?"

"No, sir!"

"Then do exactly as I say." Before the Sheikh rode back to the head of the caravan he said to Kyle and me, "I'll see you two roosters in camp after the evening meal tonight. Then we'll find out which one of you rules the barnyard."

A spearman ushered Kyle away. Someone handed Portor my sword. Slowly he unbuckled and removed my swordbelt. Sliding my weapon back into the scabbard he carefully wound the belt around it. 

As we trudged to the rear he said, "I'll take good care of this for you."

"And She-she?"

"Her too," he promised. "I'll make sure you get fed and watered today."

"Don't make trouble for yourself with the Sheikh on my account."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see if I can't explain to him after he's calmed down."

"Why are you endangering yourself for me?"

"Because of the time you saved my life in Rishi-Kej."

Of course, I did not recall the incident. We walked in silence.

The spearman who escorted Kyle had had the driver stop the last wagon. Portor attached a long chain to my collar then fastened the other end to a ring in the side of the wagon.

"I hate to do this, Thwart. If I had the key to your cuffs I'd at least put your hands in front of you. I'll be back shortly with some water."

I nodded gratefully to him. Blood streamed down my neck. I guessed my fall had opened a wound on the back of my head, probably at the knot. My head not only hurt, it throbbed with pain. The wagon started to move again. I had to take quick steps to keep up with it. The leg irons prevented me from taking a full stride. Fortunately for me, and I suppose Kyle, a pair of camels pulled this wagon instead of horses. Their plodding gait made for slow going, but I still had to work to keep pace.

"Can you hear me, Thwart?" Kyle called out from the other side of the wagon. At least it was piled high with tents, coils of rope and trunks so I didn't have to see him. "The Sheikh is going to let us fight. You may be able to best me with a sword, but you don't stand a chance against me in a bare-knuckled fistfight. I'm going to break that pretty face of yours, you little punk. We'll see how much the slave girls like you then." 

The sound of a blow reached my ears. Kyle wheezed in an out-of-breath voice: "That's damned low slugging a man with his hands tied behind his back, Namtor."

"Anytime you're ready to even the score you know where my tent is, tough guy," I heard my friend say. "As of now, I'm bringing up the rear. If I hear a peep out of you I'm going to chain you by the feet to this wagon and drag your face through all the camel dung and horseshit. And might I point out there's quite a few camels and horses ahead of us. Comments? I didn't think so."

That made me feel better mentally, but not physically. My head hurt. I needed a drink of water. I expected to Namtor to appear and talk to me, but a glance over my shoulder revealed only the hindquarters of his camel. He must have been keeping a close watch on Kyle. 

The suns were at their zenith, sweat poured off my body. Interminable minutes of walking passed. My ankles would be bleeding inside an hour at that rate. Well, so would Kyle's. Portor showed up with a waterskin in one hand, his crossbow in the other. Strips of cloth dangled from his belt. He motioned for the driver to stop the wagon. After giving me water he tucked some strips of cloth inside the metal ankle cuffs. Then he disappeared, I expect, to do the same for Kyle. I heard them talking.

Namtor rode his camel around to my side of the wagon.

"I understand you almost handed Kyle is head."

"You heard right."

"Wished I could've seen it."

"The Sheikh's going to let us fight it out tonight, you'll get to see that."

An uneasy look crossed his face. He surveyed the terrain around us then asked, "How you holding up?"

"I'll make it."


The Phantom Pilot Ch. 02



"We'll be stopping for the midday meal in a while. Portor will ascertain you get something to eat."

"How long before we make camp?"

"Probably six or seven hours. I'm riding ahead to see if I can speak to Jadda."

"Don't raise the ire of the Sheikh."

He chuckled. "Not me." As he rode off he said, "Take it easy, Thwart."

He'd called me Thwart and not Walker. He'd shut Kyle up. He intended to talk to Jadda. All that improved my peace of mind. I felt badly about the way I'd reacted this morning when his joking got on my nerves.

The wagon began to advance once more.

I hobbled along.

When the caravan paused for the noon meal Portor brought a loaf of hard bread, sliced in half and filled with cold roasted camel meat. He fed me. Camel tastes much like beef. Apparently Kyle would have to do without luncheon as I'd consumed the entire sandwich. Throughout the rest of the day Portor provided water and adjusted the rags inside my ankle cuffs. He did the same for Kyle. At one juncture Portor said he had tried to talk with the Sheikh, only to be curtly dismissed.

Namtor was nowhere in sight.

After the longest day of my life the suns began to set. Portor told me of a great river a few kilometers away, we would make camp at the riverside before nightfall. When I spotted the river I knew the ordeal was coming to an end. I faced another ordeal in a few hours. As I walked the day away I tried not to think of the barehanded fight that lay ahead with Kyle. I was younger than Kyle, younger than any man in the camp besides Portor, and was in peak condition. The hours of walking had not exhausted me. I knew I stood a good chance against Kyle, but our hatred for each other could lend either of us unwarranted strength, or breed disaster.

I'd tried not to think about Jadda either, but failed. For some reason the thought of Danae's warm kisses and ribald promises occupied my mind.

The wagon halted. I shook the sweat from my eyes and sat. I thought Portor would free Kyle and me, but I saw Namtor on camelback heading to the rear. He slid nonchalantly from the saddle and unlocked my chains. I asked him if he'd spoken to Jadda. He said no. While I massaged my wrists and ankles he freed Kyle from his chains. He asked him, "Have you been keeping your big mouth shut," and I grinned.

I was picking at the dried blood on my back when Namtor and Kyle walked over to where I sat. Kyle looked none the worse for wear despite having missed his lunch. His leather clothing, trousers, breastplate and armbands were soaked through with sweat. If looks could kill . . .

"You two keep quiet and save all that hostility for later," advised Namtor. "The Sheikh says to get cleaned up, rest, eat a meal if you want and appear before him an hour after nightfall. Both of you are to stay away from all females, including the camp girls." He added, " The Sheikh is angrier than I've ever seen him." 

"Me too," Kyle jeered at me, "I'll see you later, little man." He departed in the direction of the river. He looked bigger and meaner than he did in the morning.

I said to his back: "Wait till the canteens and waterbags are filled before you pollute the river." He kept walking.

"That Kyle's a big boy, think you can take him?" Namtor asked.

"I hope so, I don't need my skull bashed anymore than it has been in the last two days. Did the Sheikh tell you what he had in mind?"

"No, and I did my best to pick his brain. He's not talking, not about you and Kyle, or Danae and Jadda."

I shrugged.

"Be careful tonight, Thwart," he said. "Come on, let's go get you ready for the brawl."

We went to our tent, but the workers had not finished setting it up. So I took a quick swim in the river, but eschewed eating anything, not wanting to fight on a full stomach. Namtor pestered me until I drank two or three swigs from a bottle of purple wine. By dark a big square of ground had been raked clean and roped off for the event. Two thick poles affixed with chains had been driven into the soil, one at each end of the cleared ground outside the ropes. People already gathered around for a good seat. Several warriors said they had their money wagered on me; that lifted my spirits somewhat. 

At the appointed time Namtor and I joined the crowd clustered in the center of camp. Oil lamps hung from tree limbs and torches in niches in wagons lit the scene. I scanned all the faces present for Jadda, but didn't see her. An unoccupied dais covered with cushions and silks awaited the arrival of the Sheikh. The mood was a festive one, wine generously served, a feast laid out on two long tables. Everybody stood or sat on the grass, eating and drinking. I saw Kyle standing with his friends and our eyes met. He blew me a kiss. 

On Namtor's recommendation I had girded my loins for the bout, wrapping my middle tightly with a long piece of cloth. I noticed Kyle had done the same. Neither of us, of course, bore any weapons.

I thought I'd be nervous yet a merciful calm had settled over me.

The noise of conversation tapered to a hush when the Sheikh made his entrance. Now that the suns had set he wore only his omnipresent ghutra and a white loincloth, his scimitar over one hip. My heart sank when I noted his coiled bullwhip also depended from a thong on a wide belt. In each hand he held a leash. At the end of each leash was a woman, a brunette and a blonde, naked except for a leather collar. The Sheikh walked Danae and Jadda like a pair of dogs to the dais. The girls looked breathtakingly lovely. 

Kohl accented their eyes and cosmetics highlighted their faces. I could have sworn I caught the scent of their perfume wafting in the night air. Both of them knelt on either side of their master while he made himself comfortable on the cushions; they remained kneeling after he'd seated himself. A man in a turban carrying a pile of silk positioned himself behind the Sheikh on the dais.

Two nights ago I'd been drinking coffee in a freezing hangar in France; now I found myself in the middle of a scene of barbaric jungle splendor. I had journeyed an incredible distance in such a short time. The Sheikh began speaking and at the sound of his words my reflections evaporated.

"Tonight may be sport for some, but it is disappointment for me. As I'm sure you are all aware there has been trouble in our camp. Trouble in the top ranks of my men and trouble between two of my favorite women. Each of these men and women have broken a cardinal family rule: fighting. I do not condone fighting in the camp. We fight too many battles in the field to bring it home with us. Let this punishment be a lesson to all gathered here. I have the reputation for being cruel, but tonight's reprisals will be fair and, I hope, entertaining." 

He paused, whispering to the kneeling slaves on the dais. Jadda fetched a jug beaded with sweat from among the cushions. Danae held a goblet while Jadda poured and handed it to the Sheikh after it had been filled. They both resumed kneeling. He took a healthy pull from the goblet, uttered something over his shoulder to the man in the turban.

"Thwart and Kyle will now step forward."

Portor had found Namtor and me during the proceedings. They told me to break his neck and each gave me a comradely slap on the back. I stepped up to the dais, faced the Sheikh, Kyle doing the same to my left.

"Thwart will be chained to one pole and Kyle the other," he announced.

The crowd murmured in shock.

Kyle and I looked askance at each other. 

Had we not come to fight? 

Was there not a ring constructed for such purposes? 

Surely the poles were for Jadda and Danae to be chained to during their whipping.

Or were they for us?

The Sheikh, smiling hugely, clapped his hands for quiet. Two men with leather switches tucked into their sashes, whom I soon learned would act as judges, guided Kyle and me to the poles. For the second time that day I had my hands chained behind me. Across the space of the ring from me I saw my opponent being similarly secured. Faces in the mob of people gawked in anticipation. 

A camp girl placed a ceramic bowl of oil at Kyle's feet, another at mine.

"Danae and Jadda, please rise," the Sheikh said. For all his professed disappointment he was enjoying himself very much. He took another gulp of wine before giving instructions to them. "Girls, listen carefully, then carry out my commands. Jadda, you will proceed over to Kyle. You will strip him and oil him from head to toe. Danae, you will do the same with Thwart. Then you will kneel before the man you have oiled and fulfill him with your mouth."

Raucous cries of approval burst from the crowd. The Sheikh toasted them with his goblet lifted. When a relative quiet came over the camp he continued, "The first man to spend loses, if you want to consider that losing. The winning girl will be the first to spit conclusive evidence into the bowl. Jadda, I have assigned you to Kyle because I don't want you swallowing Thwart to make it appear he has not yet spent. That would be cheating."

Everyone in the camp laughed except Jadda and myself. 

When the merriment subsided the Sheikh said, "And Danae, I know you will perform superbly on Thwart. I understand you've been wanting to do this to him all day."

Danae licked her lips in exaggerated lasciviousness to the encouragement of those present.

When the laughter died down the Sheikh completed his instructions to the girls: "The judges will be watching closely for any impropriety. If they deem either of you is not trying your best the judge will administer the lash until your best effort is put forth. No cheating, understand?"

Both girls nodded. I thought Jadda appeared unamused, although she kept her obedient slave girl face on. Danae smiled like she'd already won. 

To the crowd the Sheikh said, "This is the first step of the punishment. Rest assured we have many steps to take before a conclusion is reached. I promise you many surprises. So eat and drink your fill. We have a busy night ahead as well as another long march tomorrow." He clapped his hands together once, "Let us begin. Take your places, girls."

Whistles and cheers accompanied Danae and Jadda on their way through the throng. As soon as the blonde slave girl reached me she eagerly stripped the cloth from my loins. In spite of the audience Danae uncovered me at my most rigid. 

"I'm afraid you're going to lose this part of the contest, baby," she smiled boldly, "but what a fun way to lose." 

When she stooped to take the bowl of oil, I closed my eyes. Under such circumstances I had no wish to watch Jadda with the repugnant Kyle. Oil spilled onto my chest and back; Danae rubbed it into my skin. The people of the camp hooted uproariously as things progressed. After I was greased up like a pig the judges started a countdown from ten. The crowd took up the count, shouting each number. I had never been so ashamed in my life. When the count reached one Danae's warm mouth immediately enveloped me and my senses whirled. 

I tried to block out the noise and hold myself in check, concentrating on what the consequences of the loser in this little charade would be. Danae had obviously spent untold hours honing her skills. Her talent rivaled that of Jadda, although Danae possessed a different, and most effective, technique. I became aware of what she meant when she said I would lose because no man could hold out long against the vacuum of her mouth. My knees shook and grew as weak as my resistance. Above the racket I thought heard Jadda being switched. 

A lewd roar rang through the night. 

I opened my eyes briefly. Jadda suffered three or four stern lashes from the switch before her head promptly bobbed fervently. I squeezed my eyes shut against the indignity of it all. Danae endured not a single lash. She was enthusiasm personified; I was doomed. Danae talked with her mouth full: "Don't hold back, Thwart, I want to taste you. Hurry, baby, I want to hear you moan." I moaned all right. I squirted powerfully the first time and her mouth left me. Danae began to spit while I still spurted helplessly. When I opened my eyes I saw I'd painted her face prodigiously. It dripped onto her breasts and ran in streaks down her belly. She leapt to her feet to display her badge of honor with great pride to the onlookers.

Her proud smile turned downward upon discovering Jadda declared the winner. A warrior handed Jadda a wine cup. She rinsed her mouth out and spat at Kyle's feet. An implied insult to avenge last night on the perimeter? She hurled the cup back into the crowd to howls of delight. I found myself unable to look away. I couldn't tell if Jadda was angry. She smiled at all the cheering though and raised her arms in victory. 

Sweat poured off my face. Mixed emotions of pleasure and shame ran through me.

Somebody gave Danae a towel to wipe herself off. She seemed to be taking her loss with good grace. She tossed the towel aside after tidying herself, threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. I shut my mouth against her tongue. She reached back a hand to slap me.

A judge grabbed her by the wrist. "Kneel!"

Danae dropped instantly, her face to the grass, her bottom pointing our way. Her trim cheeks parted to betray the excited state the contest left her in. The judge released me from the chains on the pole. I snatched up the length of cloth where Danae discarded it in the grass and wound it about my loins once more.

Such noise issued from the revelers that the mere clapping of the Sheikh's hands failed to quell. A few melodramatic cracks of his bullwhip got everyone's attention. He ordered, "The judges will return the girls to the platform and the men will enter the ring." He cracked his whip for effect one last needless time. "Kyle, you go stand in one corner. Thwart, get in the opposite one. Good, good, now face away from one another."

We obeyed.

Danae clambered back onto the dais, followed by Jadda. The Sheikh put an arm around each girl and hugged them to him. 

"Well, Jadda, you are our winner. If it's any consolation to you, Danae, she only beat you by ten seconds." The audience reacted as expected to his comment. "Would you like to know what you've won, Jadda?"

"Yes, sir."

He thrust the girls away from him and kicked at the cushions and pillows until they were scattered about the dais. "You've won your choice of top or bottom. Which do you prefer?"

Jadda played the game. "Bottom, I guess."

"An excellent choice, my dear, it's easier on the knees." He made an expansive gesture with the palm of his hand to the disarray at his feet. Lie down, Jadda."

She lay on her back, moved a nearby pillow underneath her head. She looked straight into the sky to avoid looking at anyone, her arms at her side, legs slightly parted. 

The Sheikh spoke, frequently interrupted by vulgar catcalls and obscene hollering from the men. He said: "As stated earlier I won't tolerate fighting among my people. So Jadda and Danae are now going to kiss and make up. Danae, get on top of Jadda. No, no, girl, not face to face! Put your head between her thighs. There you go, much better! And Jadda, you mustn't turn your face away! You will each pleasure the other while our main event takes place. The same rules apply as in our previous contest. The judges will lash either one of you for not putting forth sincere effort. Go ahead and begin." The Sheikh watched them writhe on the dais for several minutes, turned to his audience and said: "Whoever wins the big fight gets his choice of which one of them he takes to his tent for the rest of the night."

"What does the loser get?" shouted a drunken voice from the crowd.

"I was hoping someone would ask," smiled the Sheikh. "The loser gets to relieve the guard at the farthest end of the perimeter and stand watch till dawn. Since the judges are occupied here, I will personally judge the fight."

Having said his piece he hopped off the dais and motioned for the man in the turban carrying the pile of silk to follow him.

He uncoiled his whip as he approached the ring.

The attention of the drunken crowd seemed divided between watching the lovemaking of the girls on the dais, and the impending violence in the raked square. The man in the turban stopped in front of me, bid me to stick one of my hands out, fingers extended. "Just like that, don't make a fist," he said. Selecting several scraps of silk from his pile he swathed each hand until they appeared to have bandages the size of boxing gloves. He picked up his rags, circled around to Kyle and repeated the process. Among the spectators I saw Namtor and Portor talking excitedly among themselves, smiling from ear to ear. Kyle's friends looked none too happy. 

How could a man inflict any damage with hands done up like that? 

How could blood be drawn?

Sections of the crowd booed.  

The Sheikh cracked his whip and glared at the naysayers. "Did I promise a fight to the death? These two would gladly kill each other with their bare hands if I let them. And after all, these men have work to do tomorrow. There will be no rules to govern this no-holds-barred match, except two. There will be no gouged eyes and no crotch kicking. Being slathered with oil ought to provide ample sport. They shall wrestle three out of five falls to determine the winner."

With that he went to Kyle's corner and spoke into his ear. Then he came over to me and said in a voice so low only I could hear: "This morning I told you you were a lucky man. This is the final time you will be so lucky under my command. Disregard my rules again at your own peril."

He stepped into the middle of the ring. "Listen up! After each fall, rise and return to the center of the ring. If either of you continues fighting after a fall you forfeit the match and I'll award you a dozen lashes. The sound of the whip signifies the beginning and the end of each fall. Thwart won the endurance contest so he'll start out in the dominant position. Kyle! To the center!"

Kyle dropped to his hands and knees. Beside him I knelt on one knee, an arm around his waist, the other around his neck. We looked at the Sheikh for the starting signal. He whirled his bullwhip around and around his head and snapped it loudly.

I tried to establish a breakneck hold on Kyle, but my oiled arms couldn't get a purchase. The brute surged upward quickly like a force of nature and slid from my hold. With both of us on our feet, we grappled. Kyle slammed his hands down on either side of my neck and kicked my feet out from under me. I fell and he fell right on top of me like a house, pinning me. 

The whip cracked.

We separated and returned to the center of the ring. Kyle made the pin so I got on my hands and knees. He put his arms around my chest and neck. The bullwhip sounded and he tried to flatten me under his superior weight, but, thanks to the oiliness of our skin, I broke the hold and slithered away. He came after me and we tangled again on foot. Ineffectual punches were thrown, along with some kicks, which weren't illegal in the Sheikh's book of rules.

Kyle tried to get me on the defensive and I was having none of it. I'd made up my mind not to let him win the match by just falling on me. He had the advantage of weight, but I had speed and dexterity on him. Jadda was a motivating factor for both of us: he wanted to use her that night; and I wanted to prevent him having her even more than I wanted her for myself. Another long night of watch duty on the perimeter would also be deserving punishment for him after all of the nonsense I'd put up with.


He jumped at me. I kneed him in the belly. He doubled up, struggling for air, and I clubbed him over the ear with my padded hands. A forceful blow to the temple would kill him. He hit the dirt stunned, but very much alive. I followed him down trying to crush his windpipe under my left knee. I failed in my intent however he remained on his back long enough to qualify as a fall. 




The Phantom Pilot Ch. 02



The Sheikh popped his whip. Kyle and I met in the center of the ring with me in the dominant position again and him in the neutral one on hands and knees. In that moment of respite before the third round I realized two things. First, while concentrating on the fight, the amount of noise hadn't registered with me, but the crowd was making a lot of it. Second, I glimpsed the girls on the dais, their heads buried between each other's thighs. Most of the attention centered on Kyle and me, but even the judges on the dais stole glances toward the ring.

Before the whip cracked again a clarity of strategy filled my being as it had earlier on the jungle plain when I faced Kyle with my sword. Another plan formed in my mind. I looked up from Kyle, taking a dangerous chance, and watched the Sheikh. He'd flexed his wrist in preparation of signaling the beginning of the next fall. 

I waited for the snap of his bullwhip.



The Phantom Pilot Ch. 03



In this third segment a new female protagonist is introduced. She's occasionally referred to as a child. The author categorically states if the character came to Earth from The Known World modern science would prove she has lived a minimum of 18 years (or as the inhabitants of The Known World would say: "What is a year?") They have a different concept of time than Earthlings, a year for them is perhaps a cycle of seasons, their planet circles its dual suns about every 400 days making their annual equivalent longer than Earth's. On The Known World there are no drugs, artificial preservatives, or genetic seeds mutating edible natural food, therefore girls don't mature around 12 years old like some do on planet Earth because of those very things. Maturation on The Known World arrives at 17 or 18 as a result, hence our new cast member with her budding breasts and peach fuzz is considered a child by the older characters. There is also every possibilty the characters may not be homo sapiens.

Thwart believes himself to be 20, but he is actually 23. Jadda and Danae are 21, Namtor and Kyle are 25 or 26, Portor is 19, and the Sheikh appears to be about 48, but he's likely ten times that; the bastard doesn't confide in me like the other characters.

**************

Before the whip cracked again a clarity of strategy filled my being as it had earlier on the jungle plain when I faced Kyle with my sword. Another plan formed in my mind. I looked up from Kyle, taking a dangerous chance, and watched the Sheikh. He'd flexed his wrist in preparation of signaling the beginning of the next fall. I waited for the snap of his bullwhip. When it came I jerked my arms from around Kyle, pushed both hands down violently on the back of his shaven head. Before his oiled torso could wriggle away I drove his face into the ground. I heard a crunch of bone and threw my entire weight on top of him, pinning him sufficiently to win my second fall.

Two to one!

When Kyle managed to regain his feet I saw I'd broken his nose. His nostrils oozed with blood and he had a split lip. He spit out one of his teeth.

Dirt and strands of grass clung to both of our oiled sweating bodies. Our chests heaved with effort. Rage shook his mighty frame, but a serene confidence returned to me. Without waiting for the starting signal he hurtled at me in a fury. "I'll break you in half, little man," he screamed, give or take an adjective.

My newfound confidence deserted me when I saw that human engine of destruction bearing down. In that awful moment he could have felled an ox. Stepping to one side of his fearful charge was my only defense. He blazed by me and suddenly fell face first. Only when I saw the whip wrapped about his ankles did I understand his feet had been yanked out from under him by the Sheikh. He said, "Ladies and gentlemen, Kyle has disqualified himself."

Kyle became livid trying to explain.

The Sheikh told him, "You were supposed to await the signal to begin, you overanxious fool." 

"He bwoke mya noth," wailed Kyle, "He bwoke mya toof."

The mastery with which the Sheikh wielded his whip he demonstrated with his scimitar, suddenly drawn from his belt, the razor edge poised over Kyle's throat. "Shut your mouth, before I carve you a second one."

"But my noth, my toof!"

"I'm not going to warn you again," the Sheikh gestured with his curved blade. "Thwart is the winner."

A tumultuous cry went up from the crowd.

The Sheikh told Kyle, "I'm going to be magnanimous and spare you the dozen lashes. You have a quarter of an hour before you have to relieve the guard."

Kyle gaped incredulously at the Sheikh.

"That's what you get for cheating in a no-holds-barred match, stupid, all you had to do was wait," the Sheikh looked down at him without pity. "I suggest you get patched up and hasten to the perimeter."

Blood dripped from Kyle's nose and mouth in the flickering torchlight. "Thath not fayh, thath not fayh," he muttered.

Men trampled through the ropes, led by Portor and Namtor, pushed their way into the raked square. They perched me atop their shoulders and carried me in triumph to the dais. I tugged at the wrappings on my hands with my teeth until I got free of them. I sprang onto the dais. Each of the judges took a step forward, but the look in my eye halted them. They sought a sign from the Sheikh. He approached and inclined his head at me. They backed away.

"Enough!" I shouted at the girls. I had to haul Danae off of Jadda to get them to stop. 

Then I clasped Jadda's hands, pulled her to her feet. We hadn't been able to talk all day long. I wanted to know: was she or wasn't she angry? I said to her, "I won my choice of prizes. I'm choosing you. Are you prepared to spend the night in my tent?" 

She just gazed bright-eyed at me. "Yes."

I guess I was in love with her. My heart jumped into my mouth. I am positive I squeezed her tight enough to hurt, but she didn't complain.

The Sheikh joined us on the dais. He arched his eyebrows at me and said dryly, "I take it you've made your selection?"

"Indeed," I said. Dragging Jadda by the hand I brushed past him.

When we climbed off the dais Namtor pushed a bottle of wine into my hand. "Congratulations, my friend. And to you too, Jadda. You won a lot of folk a lot of money, Thwart. I just thought I'd let you know I'll not be staying at our lodgings tonight. Just wanted to say I hope you don't mess it up. Too much."

I smiled, too weary to laugh. I handed Jadda the bottle. She swilled it gratefully while I said my goodnights.

In a hole in the crowd I watched Kyle stumbling away, alone, perhaps friendless, perhaps indignant of all the indignities in the world. Then Jadda and I stumbled away ourselves. When we left the madness of the crowd behind we agreed to visit in the river. We detoured to my tent where she rummaged around in Thwart's things and produced a cake of soap.

There were many bathers on the riverside, but we found a private spot. She splashed into the water while I took several invigorating drinks of wine. I stripped off, waded into the river. She washed the oil from my body. She massaged my neck and shoulders, back and arms. I wanted to bathe her, but she told me to float in the cool water, to relax. 

It didn't take much convincing.

As Jadda completed her bath familiar voices came from among the trees. Danae and the Sheikh. If Jadda heard them she gave no indication, she continued rinsing her hair. Maybe their being there was a coincidence, even with five moons in the sky it was dark. How could they have known we'd chosen that spot to bathe? Maybe selecting the same part of the river as Jadda and I was not an accident. I said nothing to Jadda and tried to ignore them. At one point the Sheikh removed his desert headgear while he swam. In a patch of moonlight I could see his head, shaven like Kyle's.

Except Kyle didn't have a metal plate set into his skull. Nor did he have a robotic left hand and forearm! Searching through my recent memory I realized the Sheikh consistently wore a glove on that hand, his burnoose hid his arm. I'd have to remember to question Danae, and others who might have seen it.

I pondered what caused that, but didn't ponder long. Jadda was ready to leave. We finished Namtor's bottle on the riverbank and returned to the tent.

I flopped onto my couch. Jadda extinguished all the candles except one, then laid down beside me. We kissed. We held each other.

"Was it hard for you?" She knew what I meant.

"The Sheikh has never given me to Kyle before. I didn't like it."

"You were talking to him this morning."

"The rumor was he had some hard candies. All the girls were being nice to him. Maybe he'd give us a sweet." 

"You weren't trying to make me jealous?"

"Maybe a little."

"What about you and Danae?"

"What about YOU and Danae?"

"I'd rather it had been you."

"I can do that for you right now if you want," she offered.

"That wasn't want I meant. Was Danae, uh, unpleasant for you?"

"By the seven gray gods, no!"

"I'm surprised!"

"Don't be, that's not the first time Danae and I've been in that position."

"I'm surprised even more."

Her voice changed, became quieter, "I don't know why, Thwart, you've seen all that before."

"I still don't remember."

"Well, remember this," she dispensed soft nibbling kisses. "No matter what the Sheikh makes me do, it's you I love."

She was still kissing me when I fell asleep. I have a vague recollection of waking in the middle of the night and making gentle love. Only to fall back into deep sleep. But not before I heard the sound of distant drums.

At sunrise Jadda woke me by stroking my hair. "I must go."

"You're not leaving yet," I said emphatically. I was afflicted with what afflicts every young man getting out of bed in the morning.

"I still have some time," she conceded.

When she finally did go I garbed myself in my red loincloth, sat on the edge of my bed, thinking. I noticed Portor had returned my sword. It lay next to the small chest; Thwart's belongings I kept meaning to go through. In that trunk might be clues to the missing parts of his memory. Thinking of Portor made me think of a fitful dream I'd had the night before. Portor, of course, was in the dream, and Jadda and Namtor. We were in Rishi-Kej. But fragments of dreams are like wisps of smoke, fleeting, impossible to grasp. No suppressed chunk of Thwart's memory returned from out of the blue.

I'd almost made up my mind to root through the chest when Namtor entered the tent. 

"You alone?"

"With my thoughts."

"Oh," he cocked his head at me. "Well, my thoughts are on breakfast."

"That is on my agenda too." I belted on my sword before we left.

I'd forgotten how hungry I was. After yesterday's morning meal I had had a roasted camel sandwich and nothing else. At the cooking fire I asked for a double ration of bacon and eggs, then another.

"Thanks for the wine last night," I told Namtor as we ate.

"Don't mention it. You earned it. You had quite a day."

"I hope today is easier. It can't be any worse than yesterday."

"You never can tell with the Sheikh."

"And you said it's a good life."

"I meant it too." He changed the subject. "Do you hear those drums?"

"Since the middle of the night."

"Well, the Sheikh's heard them too. When I talked to him this morning he said he liked this location, and the river. Wants to make camp here for at least one more night."

"He's changed his mind about moving the caravan out today?"

"In a word, yes. Those are Askaar drums."

I shrugged between bites. "What's he going to do here?"

"He's leading a small patrol out. We're going to beat the bush for some tribesmen. He stills wants to capture one."

"For information about the witch doctor's tribe?"

"That'd be my guess, but the Sheikh doesn't have much to say on the subject." He placed his eating utensils on his plate.

"Am I on the patrol?"

Along with me and some of his other hunters."

"Kyle?"

"Not him! That boy hasn't slept in two days." Namtor gave a bark of laughter. "You should've seen him crawling back from the perimeter at dawn." 

"I expect more trouble from him."

"I would if I were you."

The time came to ride into the wilds with the Sheikh. Instead of camels, we rode ponies like the outriders of the caravan. We carried sword, spears and slave nets. Six of us forded the river a few kilometers from the camp where it narrowed. We had to dismount and lead the horses in water up to our waists. On the other side we entered the jungle, following the sound of the drums. Their rhythms had become more insistent as the suns rose higher.

The Sheikh led the party. Seeing his ghutra reminded me of the night before. I got Namtor off to one side as we rode, it's easy on horseback to stray away from others. And out of earshot.

"Have you ever seen him without that headdress on?" I asked.

"Three or four times in all the time I've known him," he answered, looking straight ahead. 

"What's the story behind that steel plate in his skull, and his arm?"

"Even as well as I know the Sheikh he's never mentioned it to me."

"Do you think it's the reason causing the Sheikh to hunt for this elixir?"

Namtor shrugged, "Anything's possible."

"If anyone would know I thought it'd be you. No ideas?"

"Lots of them, but like you, I can only speculate."

I knew none of the riders in the patrol, except the Sheikh and Namtor, other than seeing them back in camp. After an hour of picking our way through the underbrush on horseback, the Sheikh left all our mounts with a spearman.

"Stay in the saddle," he told him. "Keep all the ponies on a lead and bring them quickly if you hear my summons."

We made our way on foot deeper into the jungle, taking the slave nets. The green foliage darkened to black as we plunged on.

"I don't have to tell anybody to stay alert," the Sheikh said to us. "The Askaar know we're here and they want us to know they know."

"How do they know we're here?" asked one of the warriors, a gruff man with a very scarred face and leathery skin.

"We made more noise than a carnival last night," the Sheikh said.

"The river helped carry the sound, too, Max," said Namtor. 

"Those drums started when the camp festivities ended last night," said the Sheikh.

He didn't look at me when he said it. They hadn't been festivities for me. Or Jadda.

"What will we do if we find the drums?" asked Max.

"We're going to have to improvise just like during a normal slave raid. Maybe we won't have to confront any voodoo jungle drums in person. I hope to take one or two Askaar alive."

Namtor said, "You mentioned slaves, and we brought the nets, what about women? A drum council might be held in the tribe. They're liable to have slave girls."

"My top priority at this time is the Askaar," the Sheikh said curtly, to conclude the conversation.

We moved quietly as ghosts through the dark trees and underbrush. The Sheikh ordered us to branch out and, as a staggered line, we advanced. Due to Thwart's excellent sense of hearing I was the first one to hear something. I motioned to the group. At once they halted and crouched.

A man appeared, walking through a path. He looked like one of the painted savages I'd seen on the bluff when I first arrived. A breechclout hung from a strip of leather around his middle, in his hand a long spear. I've walked enough watches in my time to know he was patrolling a perimeter. Before the thought occurred to me I had leaped from my hiding place and tackled him unaware. I slapped the flat of my hand over his mouth so he could not cry out to any companions. I made a fist with my other hand and put him to sleep with two ferocious punches to the neck.

Along with the nets, the Sheikh had equipped us with lengths of cord since chains had a tendency to clank. I bound the savage with cords and stuffed a gag in his mouth and tied that in place. The Sheikh stood beside me before I finished tying him up.

"Good work, Thwart, I didn't think it would be this easy."

"What now? Back to the camp?" I asked.

"I'm going to let Raj take this one back ahead of the rest of us. We're going a little deeper into the interior."

We formed into a line again. I expected to see another watchman at any time, but an hour or more went by without us seeing a soul. Namtor walked beside me for a moment.

He chuckled, "Now that was one of those damnfool stunts I was referring to." 

"It's intuition. Lucky for us I took him without any noise. If he'd raised an alarm we might be full of arrows right now."

Namtor grinned and wandered back to his place in the line. 

Those tireless Askaar drummers beat a fast tempo on their skins. The drums were so loud they couldn't have been faraway. The fierce rhythms set my nerves on edge. Suddenly all the drums stopped on the same beat. The silence that ensued was as unnerving as the drumming itself. Sweat rolled out of my hair onto my face and down my back. A bird squawked and startled me. I found my sword clenched in my fist, didn't remember drawing it. The Sheikh gestured and we fell in behind him. After a short distance he crawled on his hands and knees. We did the same, coming to a halt at a wall of dense brush.

I parted some greenery. Ahead of me lay a glade. Hand drums were scattered about the grass; about ten Askaar warriors moved toward a platform around which more men stood. Through the press of bodies I couldn't see anything. They began chanting. A man in a red robe took short deliberate steps across the clearing to the platform. In his arms he carried a young girl in a white diaphanous dress who seemed either dead or unconscious. She had long pale hair. The men parted. The man in the robe placed the girl on the platform.

"That's an altar," Namtor said between his teeth.

"A virgin sacrifice in white?" wondered the Sheikh.

"Looks like it to me," Namtor said.

"Such a shame to stick a knife in such a pretty young girl."

"She already looks dead," I whispered.

Namtor said, "She must have swooned. Believe me, they're not going to sacrifice somebody already dead."

"Why are they going to kill her?" I asked him.

"That high priest is making an offering to please their heathen gods," said Namtor, "perhaps that they might be victorious in battle."

"My thoughts exactly," muttered the Sheikh. "They're planning to attack the camp."

"We have a small army in that camp," Max said.

"I prefer not to take any more chances. We should've turned back once Thwart took the prisoner."

The Askaar quit chanting and the priest began intoning words in a language I could not understand. While he droned on he unbuttoned the girl's dress. He slipped it off her shoulders, folded it and placed it like a pillow under the girl's head. She was naked except for a brief white garment below her belly. Her budding breasts were pear-shaped and they quivered when she opened her eyes and saw what transpired around her. From his robe the priest drew a dagger with a curiously shaped blade.

The girl screamed when she saw the knife. As she struggled a man stationed at each of her ankles and wrists held her down. With one wanton hand the priest slid the tiny garment off her hips and down her thighs. When he'd exposed her mound, he traced the tip of the blade through her peach fuzz up to her navel, without drawing blood. She stopped struggling, but sobbed hysterically. The point of the dagger made a dent in her fair skin as the priest inched it across her body. He lifted the dagger away from her and bent his face between her thighs. He applied a lecherous series of slobbery kisses in the vicinity of the girl's mound. 

I thought, "High priest indeed!"

The Sheikh said, "I've seen enough, I have no appetite for butchery. Let's get out of here before we're seen."

"What about the girl?" I hissed.

"What about her?" the Sheikh shrugged. "I got what I came for. Let's get going." 

Namtor interceded, "Thwart, we need to get back and fortify the camp."

"We can't leave her here to die," I said.

The Sheikh gave me a look. "There must be twenty Askaar out there with that priest."

"I agree, Thwart, we cannot save the girl."

Without another word the Sheikh slunk away from the glade, Max and Namtor at his heels. I looked one more time through the parted greenery. The priest, finally done with his obscene kissing, slowly raised the dagger, I guess for the fatal stab between her breasts. I could count her ribs, see the tears in her eyes. Namtor motioned wildly for me to follow. Instead I stepped into the glade unseen. All eyes were on the girl to be sacrificed.

Drawing my sword I sprinted toward the altar without a battle cry. Two Askaar heads rolled before they saw me. The priest whirled and the men holding down the girl released her to reach for their weapons. I dealt mayhem left and right with my sword, slashing as I ran. Maybe they expected me to stay and fight, not scoop the girl up under one arm and disappear into the jungle. The Askaar stood frozen to the spot, unsure of what hit them.




The Phantom Pilot Ch. 03



Namtor had said no slave girl could outrun him or me and I wondered if I could outrun the Askaar, with the added weight of the girl. 

I made the most of what little head start I had by racing like a gazelle through the jungle. As I crashed through leaves and branches, running for my life, I ran into an Askaar. Since he was ahead of me he had to be one of those walking the perimeter. Dropping the girl I got a two-handed grip on my sword. I batted his clumsy spear out of the way and cut his throat with a backhanded stroke. Blood splattered my chest, but I slung the girl over my shoulder in a fireman's carry and was off in a trice.

When their angry cries reached my ears I asked myself what had I been thinking. A combination of Thwart's impetuous recklessness and Walker's humanity merged into one. Too late I realized I'd made the wrong decision. Because of it, now both the girl and myself would die. That didn't however keep me from running like the wind. An energy burned inside me. A spear flashed by to my left. I exploded through a wall of greenery and found salvation, or death, in front of me. The jungle ended abruptly. I stood on the edge of a cliff. The suns light shined on the mirrored surface of a lake far below. Sheathing the sword and clutching the girl to me with both arms I did what Thwart did the last time he escaped the Askaar.

I jumped off a cliff.

Better to break my neck hitting the water than being torn limb from limb by the mad pack swarming through the trees behind me. I endeavored to keep my body straight as we fell. That enabled me to enter the water feet first. Landing on my back or stomach would've killed me. The lake was deep enough I didn't break my legs on the bottom. When my head broke the surface I cast around for the girl. Her head was above water too. And she was conscious.

"Can you swim?" I shouted.

She nodded her head. We thrashed through the water to the closest bank. There were no splashes behind us. Apparently the Askaar possessed enough intelligence not to jump off cliffs, even with water below. Once we made dry land we needed to never stop putting distance between them and us. The girl modestly pulled the insignificant garment back into place as soon as she stood on the riverside. I had no time to think about what it failed to hide, we were still in grave danger.

I took her hand, dragging her along into the jungle. We ran for hours. Or at least it seemed that way. When the girl collapsed from the grueling pace, I slung her over my shoulder again and charged ahead. My core of energy eventually burned out. I weakened all at once. I dropped to my knees. Setting the girl down I lay on my back gasping for breath. After a while she leaned over, her hands flat on my chest feeling my heart.

"Do not die, do not die," she pleaded.

"I'm a long way from dying." To prove it, I staggered to my feet.

Again I took her by the hand and into the foliage we went. We said nothing to each other because an enemy might overhear. All afternoon we traversed forest and grassy plain as quietly as possible. Once a lion roared somewhere out of sight in the jungle and frightened her. I mouthed some reassuring words to buoy her spirits. When I told her I would protect her her confidence returned. Secretly I hoped we wouldn't have to face any wild beasts, but we were in the jungle.

We resumed our journey.

Maybe Thwart had an innate sense of direction too. Before the suns set we stumbled upon a wide river I thought I recognized. With a little encouragement I talked the girl into swimming to the other side of the river. I knew from my ordeal chained to the wagon that the suns set in the east in this world. Once across we progressed south. We walked side by side along the riverbank. All I had to do was let it lead me back to the camp of the Sheikh.

"I feel safer now," I said. "My friends should be camped only be a few kilometers from here." I told her my name.

"I am Vananella."

"How did you come to be a prisoner of the Askaar?"

"They raided a caravan I traveled with. Many seasons ago. In the raid my parents were killed."

"You look relatively unharmed for so much time in captivity."

"I think because I was so young they put the Askaar women in charge of me. The women managed to shelter me, until today."

"What happened today?"

"A large group of plunderers is in the territory. I was to be sacrificed to the divine ones to drive out the trespassers. If I didn't speak Askaar I would not know."

"You're fluent in their tongue?"

"Maybe not fluent," the young lady demurred, "but I can understand what they say. And can make myself understood."

I thought about how valuable a translator would be to the Sheikh. She seemed little more than a child, but her womanly charms were quite evident. I knew Vananella would intrigue the Sheikh in more ways than just as an interpreter. The men in the camp too. Had I saved her from one savage bunch only to deliver her to another? I refrained from mentioning that, but I let her know the camp we headed towards were the plunderers the Askaar feared. 

She said she knew.

"How do you know?" I asked her.

"The Askaar warriors skirmished with some men yesterday. Around the tribal fires they said they encountered a man known as the Sheikh."

"They know the Sheikh?"

"They know of him. He's a legend throughout the known world. A slave trader."

I neither confirmed nor denied that. Why unsettle her even more?

Vananella put her hand back in mine. "Do you work for the Sheikh?"

Awe tinged her words.

I gave an honest answer.

"That is so exciting."

"It is?"

She got a big smile on her face. "Do you think I'll get to meet a slave girl?"

I tried not to sigh. "I'll introduce you to the most beautiful slave in the known world."

"Do you promise?" she said.

Her excitement surprised me. "Do you think a slave girl's lot in life is glamorous?"

"I dream about being the slave of a handsome warrior." She squeezed against me to emphasize her point.

I released her hand and strode on ahead of her.

"Did I say something wrong, Thwart?"

"No," I said gently and let her catch up to me. 

She fussed with the tiny bands of silk about her hips. One slender band circled her waist, another thin strip between her legs. "Let me fix my thong, it keeps wanting to fall off." Her innocent eyes beamed. I looked away.

After a minute I said, "You might change your mind once you get inside the Sheikh's camp." 

"Better him than the Askaar. They were going to kill me. The Sheikh won't kill me, will he?"

I thought of other fates that might await her in the camp, but death wasn't one of them. "No," I finally said, "he won't kill you."

Night fell. 

Walking on the riverbank was not without its peril. We ducked into the foliage when three mutants blundered out of the jungle. I could have slain them easily, but I didn't want Vananella to witness any more violence. So we hid, and the mutants went away. Further down the river a huge snake dropped from a tree limb above us. I had a fine old time hacking at its head, as large as a football, until I severed it. With the coils of the serpentine body convulsing in the grass, we fled the area. The mutants had posed almost no threat, but the snake scared both of us out of our wits. Yet Thwart's mighty sword waged confident war, as usual. 

At last I saw the glow of campfires. Not long afterwards we met up with one of the guards walking the perimeter.

"Who are you and what's your business?"

"It is Thwart!" I said to the watchman. "I arrive with a friend."

Although I didn't know the guard, he recognized me. "The Sheikh said the Askaar had killed you."

"The Sheikh is back in the camp?"

"He returned before the suns set." 

"Take us to him."

"Can't leave my post, there's word of an attack." He glanced at Vananella, who concealed her breasts by crossing her arms over them.

"This is true. Let us pass and I will find the Sheikh, I have much to tell him."

"He's in his tent," the guardsman said. He beckoned with the sweep of a hand that we enter the camp.

"Are we going to the Sheikh's tent right now?" asked Vananella. "Will I get to meet him?"

"In just a very few minutes," I said, not comprehending women.

"I can't wait," she said, clinging to my arm. I just rolled my eyes. 

"Where are the slave girls?" she asked while we prowled through the maze of pavilions. "I see only warriors."

I too had noted the absence of girls in the men's tents or in the shadows, their heads bent down and mouths busy. But I attributed it to the Askaar situation. The men were armed moreso than usual in camp. They evaluated Vananella with unabashed interest and curiosity as we passed. She kept her bosom covered as best she could. Namtor was exiting though the flap of the Sheikh's tent when the girl and I arrived. 

His jaw dropped at our appearance. "You live!" He thrust his head back through the flap, saying: "Thwart is here!"

"He's alive?" came the sound of the Sheikh's voice.

But Namtor had already turned back to me, saying: "You crazy fool! We thought you'd died twice in two days!"

Three times by my count, but I didn't mention it. Instead I asked, "Jadda believes I'm dead?"

The Sheikh, appearing at the opening of his tent, answered for Namtor. "She saw us return without you. While I haven't made any announcements, doubtless conclusions have been drawn." He paused. " I should be amazed to see you still alive, but after the last few days, Thwart, nothing amazes me about you anymore." His gaze shifted from me to Vananella; I could see the coins clinking in his head. "Well, well, our little virgin sacrifice. Or is she still a virgin?" he leered.

"How did you get her out of there alive?" asked Namtor.

"By running like the biggest coward in the land." 

Vananella uncrossed her arms when I introduced her. The loose thong made no secret of her peach fuzz and the Sheikh made no secret of staring. But he said: "You managed to elude twenty Askaar? Burdened with her?"

"He rescued me," Vananella said.

The Sheikh ignored her comment. "Let's go into my tent. You must tell me and Namtor of your adventures."

Once inside the tent Vananella couldn't resist asking, "Are you the man known as the Sheikh?"

"Kneel!" he barked at her.

She shrank back, startled, but she bent her knees to kneel. I clamped a hand on the top of her right arm, tugging her back to her feet.

"Vananella is not a slave, Sheikh," I said.

He looked sharply at the girl, "I said kneel."

That time she dropped rapidly to the floor of the tent, putting her head to the ground. She obviously had seen slaves assume that position before. Her thong drooped leaving one chubby pube and her anus in view. 

I looked away. Namtor did not.

I met the Sheikh's eyes, hooded and dark beneath his ghutra, resisting their hypnotic qualities. "I said she is not a slave."

"Is your memory still gone?" the Sheikh said. "Do you forget yourself?"

"Get back on your feet, Vananella," I said, pulling the prostrate girl upright, taking the decision of disobeying the Sheikh away from her.

Namtor remained wisely out of the conversation.

"You work for me, Thwart."

"That is not the argument. However, this girl doesn't belong to you."

"Oh, but that is the argument. Whoever, or whatever, you capture while in my employ becomes my property."

"I didn't capture her, I rescued her."

"So you're saying she belongs to you?"

"Vananella is free, she belongs to no one."

The Sheikh snickered. "I'm calling for the artist to put a slave tattoo on her ankle tonight."

Little Vananella caught her breath.

"I object, Sheikh. I risked my life to bring her into the camp. She will prove to be very valuable to you."

"Of that there is no doubt," agreed the Sheikh, eying the girl. Her blunt nipples were swollen with anticipation.

I held her possessively to my side. "She can help you find this elixir you seek."

The Sheikh did not obfuscate. "Does she know where to find it?" A hint of interest played in his oily black eyes. 

"Not exactly, but she speaks Askaar."

"And what good does that do me?"

"It should be obvious. You'll need a translator for the man I captured this afternoon. She can talk to other Askaar we may encounter," I said. "She can help you learn the whereabouts of this medicine man."

The Sheikh thought about it.

I continued, "Vananella can serve a purpose other than being a slave."

"She can serve any purpose I see fit. I might allow her to stay in your care while she helps."

"She is under my care regardless."

"Remember who you're speaking to, Thwart."

"You are not enslaving this child," I said evenly.

Vananella and Namtor both started to say something only to be silenced by a look from the Sheikh. "You travel with this caravan, Thwart. You eat at my fires, you sleep in the lodging I provide and you are clothed and armed by me. Might I add you enjoy all the comforts my camp has to offer. You dare to dictate terms? To me? How are you going to pay for the upkeep of this newcomer?"

"You'd let her starve to death?"

"Of course not," he said, "but are you going to clothe her, shelter her?"

"The girl can cook and clean to earn her meals. I will get her clothing. She will sleep in my tent."

"What will Jadda think?" the Sheikh smiled.

"Jadda will understand."

"Like she understood about Danae?" 

He brought up a point I hadn't considered. "Maybe she can help Jadda during the day while I'm about my duties?"

"And what will Vananella do when Jadda spends the night in your bed? That is, if I decide to let Jadda entertain you. Instead of Kyle."

My face began to burn with the callousness and cruelty of it all.

The Sheikh said, "Jadda came into my possession when you and Portor captured her in Rishi-Kej. Remember? At the time you had no such notions of protecting the women you abducted. They were duly turned over to me. You enjoy Jadda only at my largesse, which I can revoke at any time."

He made his point, he could deprive me if he so desired. I ignored his threat and said, "Vananella can work for her keep, including acting as an interpreter. I refuse to let her minister to the men."

"You have no claim on the girl," replied the Sheikh, then: "I also want to point out that twice today you endangered not only yourself, but the rest of our party. You're fortunate you got away with it both times. I cannot risk my men to your foolhardiness. You were successful, but you need to curb your zeal in the future. I will not punish you, but I will give you a choice."

"A choice?"

"That's right! But only because of your good work. First, for taking an Askaar alive, then, by adding this lovely creature to the retinue."

"What choice are you giving me?"

"The girl can either be under my protection, or yours. If you elect to keep her, you will forfeit the company of all slave girls."

I looked from the Sheikh to Vananella and back.

"You're a young man, Thwart. Lusty, hot-blooded. I forbid you using Vananella while she is in your care."

"That was never my intent," I bristled.

"Maybe so, but a young man like yourself gets very anxious, shall we say, without the release a woman brings. If none of my slaves are allowed to dally with you, then with whom shall you dally?" He jerked a thumb at Vananella, "Not this virgin here. A virgin commands a high price in the Silver Cities, as you know."

I shrugged. 

The Sheikh said, "The girl will be inspected to verify her hymen is intact. It will remain intact."

"Indeed it shall as long as she is with me."

"You will not damage my product," he told me. "She will be examined daily."

"She is not yours."

"You have made your choice," he went on, "Jadda will know about it."

I didn't let him bait me, "There is still one last consideration concerning Vananella." 

"And what is that?"

"Vananella says there is no attack imminent from the Askaar."

"Is that so?"

"She says she was to be sacrificed to drive us out, not to give them courage in battle."

He asked her if that was true and she nodded. "If that's the case," said the Sheikh, "Namtor, pass the word along to the men that we break camp at dawn. Keep the watch doubled, the slaves confined to their quarters, and the men will remain vigilant." 

Namtor went to do the Shiekh's bidding, but the Shiekh detained him.

"Vananella," he said, "would you like to meet a real slave girl?"

"Yes," she clapped her hands together eagerly. I just shook my head.

"Namtor, also bring Jadda here to meet Vananella."

The big man left with his cleaver slung over one shoulder.

I asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"For a number of reasons," said the Sheikh. "First, I want Jadda to see that you're alive. I want her to know about your choice. And I want to know about the sincerity of your choice." He motioned for Vananella to come to him. He had her sit upon his sprawl of cushions and silks then sat closely beside her. From a small table, its surface covered with odds and ends, he found an ivory comb. Vananella was only too delighted to comb her disheveled hair. By the time she finished the Sheikh had poured two servings of wine. He handed one to her, "Let's drink a toast to your new life." 

I watched them drink. I saw what the Sheikh was doing, and had to make a good decision for a change. Should I risk alienating myself from Jadda, or any other friend I had in the camp? Why did I want to protect Vananella, an unknown quantity? She laughed innocently at something the Sheikh said and, in that moment, I knew. She had not yet taken the ultimate step into womanhood and was worth saving, even if it only postponed the inevitable. 

Namtor returned with Jadda as the Sheikh proposed another toast.

Jadda beamed at me, barely containing her excitement, unclothed except for her chain. Judging by the look on his face Namtor had kept my presence a secret. When the Sheikh pointed to me she took quick little steps over to where I stood, embraced me.

"Everyone thought you were dead."

"People seem to expect it from me."

The Sheikh snapped his fingers at Jadda, "Lead him to those cushions and pleasure him."

Vananella looked on with much interest.

Jadda smiled widely, tugged at my hands to hurry me, but I refused to budge.

"What's the matter?" Jadda and the Sheikh said at the same time.

"It is wrong to do this in front of the girl," I stated.

The Sheikh grunted, "She'll see it sooner or later in this camp. I want her to know what to expect here." His words contained a dual meaning. "And furthermore if you don't willingly accommodate Jadda, I will switch her."

"Switch her all you want, she likes it."

"Pleasure ends where pain begins. Is there any doubt that I can whip her hard enough to hurt her if I choose to do so?"

"No," I admitted. 

He indicated I should get on my back. "Pay close attention while Jadda carries out her master's commands," the Sheikh said to Vananella, squeezing one of her hands. 

Jadda unbuckled my swordbelt and worked down my loincloth.

Vananella was rapt with attention. Her eyes devoured my nakedness.

Jadda kissed me longingly before her tongue journeyed across my body, which reacted accordingly. She swallowed me whole like in the past. In the end she straddled me and bounced wickedly. In scant minutes we both cried out. During our activities I noticed from time to time the Sheikh whispering to Vananella. She giggled at everything he said. He had her hypnotized. 

"That is enough, Jadda," he ordered, possibly because both of us were out of breath. "Approach me, there is someone I would have you meet."

When Jadda glows with satisfaction, she is at her most beautiful. She knelt before the Sheikh, radiant.

"This is Vananella. Thwart rescued her from the Askaar. He has asked to keep her as his own."




The Phantom Pilot Ch. 03



Jadda said to me, "As a slave girl?"

"No," I said quickly.

"But you do wish to keep her, is that not correct?" quipped the Sheikh. 

"Yes," I said slowly.

"Namtor, take Jadda back to her tent!" 

Jadda gasped, looking most unhappy. She went with bowed head when Namtor escorted her out. 

The Sheikh knew well how to complicate my life.

"Now I won't have to spread rumors that Vananella belongs solely to you."

"Because Jadda will do it for you," I said.

A cruel smile spread across the Sheikh's face. He said to Vananella, "Were you impressed with the slave girl going about her duties?"

"It was very exciting." 

The Sheikh refilled her goblet with wine. "That is not the kind of thing that you and Thwart are to engage in. Don't be disappointed. If you decide to become a slave girl I will make the necessary arrangements. Would you like to have Jadda train you?"

"I think that's enough, Shiekh," I said. "You've accomplished what you set out to accomplish."

"I want to train with Jadda," protested Vananella.

"Jadda might be cruel to you," I cried out.

"So I take it now you don't want her to stay with Jadda while you're on duty?" asked the Sheikh.

"How about one of the other girls?"

"Danae?" he smiled smugly.

"Who's Danae?" asked Vananella.

"A girl who might have reason to be as cruel as Jadda," I said softly.

"But who's going to train me then?"

"You are not going to be a slave girl! That's final." 

The Sheikh let me off the hook. "I'll figure something out when the time comes. It's mainly because of all the good work you do, Thwart. But I can't emphasize enough that your foolhardy stunts are going to get you in trouble. Exercise more caution." 

I sighed silently, "May we retire to my tent?"

"You may, but first I want to ascertain something about this girl."

The Sheikh ordered Vananella to the ground. 

I asked him, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Making my examination," he said. He made no pretense of securing any type of permission from me. Vananella glanced my way, unsure.

"Do as he says," I said reluctantly.

"Get on your hands and knees. Head down, your bottom up. Spread your knees."

Vananella got into the obscene position. When I glimpsed between her legs before she was closed like a clamshell. Now she gaped wetly, open in a keyhole shape. The Sheikh knelt between her thighs. He eased her thong down more and slid a finger into her. She shuddered at the intrusion. He grunted at his discovery. His finger glided in and out of her much longer than I thought necessary.

"Oh," she said. Her slim hips convulsed helplessly.

"She's a juicy little thing, slave girl stock," the Sheikh observed as he got to his feet. "She is a virgin, Thwart, see that she stays one."

I rested my hand on the hilt of my sword meaningfully.

"Go with Thwart now, Vananella."

The humiliated girl rose shakily. Her face and breasts were flushed with embarrassment, or desire. She adjusted her thong into place and came into my arms.

"We will interview the Askaar in the morning before the caravan rolls. Be back here at first light. And Thwart, bring Vananella with you. I will examine her again."

My lips drew tight. I was powerless to object to anything. All he had to do was have the men in the camp put me to the sword. If I resigned, if such a thing was possible, he might put me in chains. Since the Sheikh had purchased me in the Silver Cities to begin with; apparently he could bestow slavery upon me again just as easily. 

I departed his tent thinking I'd made more bad decisions in there.



The Phantom Pilot Ch. 04



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thwart redux, my friends, wondering if his 18-year-old protege Vananella is causing more trouble in the camp than she's worth.

~~~

Vananella clung drunkenly to me. The Sheikh had seduced her all too well with the wine, his expansive displays of the joys of slavery, coaxing her to the height of pleasure, then releasing her hot and bothered in my care. My battles had just begun. I questioned the Sheikh's motives. Wouldn't it be wiser not to antagonize a man like me? Namtor may have been wrong about the Shiekh controlling Jadda and me through our love for each other. Would it not be better to encourage that love, rather than drive us apart? I did not pretend to understand the man. I tried to put him from my mind, but he was the topic of conversation.

"Am I going to be a slave girl?"

"Not if I have anything to do with it."

"Is he going to check me like that every day?"

"Probably so. He's a powerful man who does what he wants. It's a price you pay."

"I didn't mind so much. It's better than getting my throat cut."

"That's one way to think about it."

"I wouldn't have minded at all if it was you. You're more handsome than the Sheikh."

Before I could reply she kissed me on the mouth, grinding her nubile form against me. I disentangled myself and held her at arm's length. As gently as possible I said, "We cannot do that."

"Why not?" she said coyly. "You and Jadda . . ."

The girl infuriated me as much as the Sheikh. But I said quietly, "Forget me and Jadda, forget what you saw in the tent."

"How could I forget that?"

"I am ashamed."

"Why? You are very strong." My hold loosened and she slipped back into my arms. "Will you do that to me too?"

"What we're going to do is have a wash in the river. Then we're going to bed."

"To sleep?" she giggled.

"To sleep."

That damned Sheikh.

As we walked, she asked, "Are you and Jadda in love?"

I thought before answering. "I don't know. Anymore. We were at one time."

"Is that why Jadda would be cruel to me?"

I had to smile at the way her mind worked. "Perhaps."

Last night the river had been teeming with bathers, but the riverside was deserted. A sentry patrolled the horizon bathed in the moons light. Vananella and I were alone. We'd been alone before, but then we were fugitives on the run, endangered. Now a new dimension existed between us. A development made more exasperating by the fact Vananella was drunk. And aroused. She hadn't helped matters with all the rubbing and grinding. Although the Colonel Walker part of me said no, Thwart's physical reaction screamed yes. Supposedly I was a grown man capable of making intelligent decisions, but the hot blood of youth inside kept making them for me. Eventually the sum of those poor choices would get me beheaded. I had a fifty-year-old brain in a twenty-year-old body whose overruling passions caused me to be constantly at odds with myself. I needed to win that battle, but it represented only one of many battles I had to fight.

I turned around to undress, wanting to get in the water before she did.

"This is so private, so romantic."

I waded into the river. Vananella stepped out of her apparel and swam out to me. She put her hands on my chest, held her face up to be kissed. When I disappointed her by not complying she grabbed at me under the surface. Her laughter carried across the water when I paddled away from her. I had nowhere to hide, she could swim like a fish. I had dug a neat trap for myself. 

"Come back, Thwart, I promise to behave."

"Can I trust you?"

Vananella giggled. To her Thwart was a boy not much older than herself. Thwart and Vananella would have made a natural couple on Earth. In this jungle world, with its barbaric social customs, the pairing of Vananella and me seemed even less illogical.

I drifted to her side, sitting in shallow water to conceal my tumescence. She dunked herself, emerged from the river with the contours of her lithe body shining and wet. Droplets of water had collected in her peach fuzz.

"Can I bathe you?" she asked. "Like a slave girl?"

"You know the answer to that."

She pouted. She arched her back, brought her hands up and cupped her breasts. "You really and truly are my hero, Thwart. You rescued me and brought me to this thrilling new life. I want to thank you, I want to make you happy, give you pleasure. Please let me be your slave girl. Even if you do love Jadda."

Hoping to deflect her advances without hurting her feelings I joked with her, saying as lightly as I could, "Do you want the Sheikh to have me put to death for deflowering you?"

Vananella wasn't listening. "I could do what Jadda did with her mouth."

"No!"

"I would still be a virgin."

"Vananella," I pleaded, "you darling child . . ." 

"You can see I am not a child."

"We're going back to the tent now to get some sleep."

She had the devil in her eyes. "Well then, let's go." She moved close enough to me so her mound was centimeters from my nose.

I eased her back. "You go first, I'm right behind you."

She reached for my hands, "Get up, silly."

I knew what she was doing. When I stood up she would have evidence with which to renew her argument. With nowhere to hide I surrendered to the inevitable. When I got to my feet I jutted out hopelessly in front of her. 

Vananella stared and I covered myself with my hands. "Can we go now?"

She giggled while I dressed and all the way back to the tent. She had neglected to put her thong on, it dangled from one finger. 

Namtor snored in his couch. A single candle burned.

I whispered, "The first thing we're going to do is get you some clothes."

"Why? I can sleep like this."

But I was already opening the chest of Thwart's meager possessions. He must have something in the way of clothing in there. Digging through the contents I discovered a sleeveless shirt. I pitched it to Vananella, "Put that on." Thwart must have liked red loincloths because he owned several, but they would not make suitable attire for a young lady. He'd owned a pair of short trousers too. With a belt to cinch them tight enough around her middle they would cover her decently.

I handed them to her, but she did not put them on. She dropped the shirt and trousers to the ground, her little thong on top of them.

"I will sleep naked, not even my panties," she let me know. She spied a comb in the trunk and began running it through her long blonde hair. When she was through she crawled into the sleeping silks. I took off my sword, set it within reach and laid down with my back to her. She massaged my neck and shoulders, asked me to please turn over.

"Go to sleep."

"Not till you turn over."

"You'd better not wake Namtor."

"He's snoring too loudly to be awakened by our whispering. Come here I said."

I rolled over to face her. She put her arms around my neck and snuggled up to me. 

"Thank you," she said, pressing a tender kiss to my mouth.

"For saving your life? For not taking advantage of you?"

"I wish you would take advantage," she purred in my ear. She crushed the tips of her breasts against me, kissing me deeply. The next thing I knew she'd encircled me with an intimate fist, stroking me through the silk of my loincloth. A few more caresses would have me groaning, but I did nothing to stop her except tell her no.

She pretended she had not heard. "You can't sleep in the state you're in," she said urgently. "I want to ease your burden." She got her fingers under my loincloth. She held me the way I hold my sword. Her hands began to pump me with long strokes.

"I'm fine, I just want to sleep."

"Let me relax you." Her hands worked feverishly.

I groaned when the first warm burst squirted from me. It splashed her breasts. Before I realized what she was doing Vananella leaned down and had my spewing, spitting tip in her mouth. She made an unsuccessful try to contain the overflow. The spillage she rubbed into her chest and belly. Then she kissed and licked my length before she resumed pumping me with her fist.

"Are you happy now?" I asked.

"You feel like you need more relaxing."

I removed her hands. "It's time to sleep, blow the candle out."

Instead she wriggled closer to me. Her wet warmth squeezed against one of my legs.

"Sleep well," I said.

"I won't be able to sleep feeling the way I do."

"How do you feel?"

"Not like sleeping!" came her whispered grumble. "At least you've been satisfied. Why don't you satisfy me?"

"I'm in charge of protecting your virtue. Remember?"

"You don't have to use what you used on Jadda. Kiss me where the High Priest kissed me, touch me like the Sheikh touched me."

"Are you sure you're a virgin?"

"Unfortunately. Why?"

"You're acting like a slave girl."

"Treat me like one, Thwart," she hunched her mound against my thigh. She left a wet path on my leg in her attempt to mount me. 

"I'll tie you up and gag you like a slave girl if you don't let me get some sleep." I turned over.

She said to my back, "After you tie me up you can kiss me and touch me. Like the way I asked you to before."

I shot to my feet and fumbled for a roll of cloth I'd seen in Thwart's trunk. 

"What are you doing?" Vananella asked.

I stooped beside her and tore the cloth into strips. Her right ankle got tied to her right wrist, the same with the left. I reclined on my side, my left hand under my head. "If you talk I'll be forced to gag you, and I don't want to do

that. Do I need to?"

"No," she said in a small voice.

"Do you want me to untie you?"

"No."

"Are you going to be still and go to sleep?"

"Please touch me first. Please."

"Are you frustrated?"

"I relaxed you, you relax me. Please."

One more bad decision made by the blood roaring in Thwart's ears. 

I brushed my fingers through her peach fuzz. Vananella sighed. She had secreted heavily; I smelt her spice in the tent; her aroma intoxicated me. I dipped a finger inside her, easing in and out. Her hips surged forward and back for a few minutes then I squeezed a hand over her mouth to prevent her vocal expression of joy from waking Namtor. 

"I thought you said I wouldn't have to gag you?"

"Please don't stop what you were doing. I promise to be quiet."

Vananella had fanned the flames in me, inspired me. I leaned forward and kissed her where she wanted to be kissed. Her hips jerked when my mouth came in contact with her. She twisted in her bonds as I licked and sucked until her thighs tightened around my head, her entire body quivering. Her thighs clenched me several more times before I finished. She was out of breath, her skin clammy with sweat. I wiped my face.

She said, "Thank you," not once, but many times. 

I untied her. She came into my arms kissing me passionately, grinding against me, a squeal escaped her upon discovering the object that wedged against her belly. Then, using her mouth instead of her hands, Vananella relaxed me. Like any other slave girl in the camp I held her head firmly in place to assure she didn't shirk her responsibility. She choked, pushed away from me. It became necessary to tie her hands behind her. If she wanted to play at being a slave girl, I'd do my best to leave a bad taste in her mouth.

I propped up on some cushions, my legs wide, bent at the knees. The girl knelt over me. Holding her head where I wanted it I thrust deeply into her mouth till tears ran from her eyes and drool covered her breasts. Vananella had no array of skills like Jadda, or Danae, but she had enthusiasm, which brought her close to retching on several occasions. She wanted to please me so I increased my exuberance. I thought she needed to be taught a lesson about the realities of slavery. Using her with force and without mercy might dispel some dark illusions. In the interest of helping her I put the theory into practice. She gulped each time I drove my hips intently forward. Her gagging induced a powerful abandon in me. When I got done with her Vananella would beg to join a convent. To my chagrin her eyes rolled up in her head, filled with adoration and I began to groan. She mouthed me lovingly, long after it mattered. I felt like half of me was sloshing around inside her belly by the time I laid down beside her. 

We looked at each other face to face, her hands still secured behind her back.

"Now do you see the disadvantages of being a slave girl?"

"What are you talking about? I loved that," she said excitedly. "Are you going to make me do it every night?"

"You enjoyed what happened?"

"Very much. Feel how wet I am. You made me cream myself." I verified that with a delving finger. She arched her back and creamed again, eyes closed, her body shaking with spasms. When she got her breath back she asked, "What are we going to do tomorrow night?"

"Sleep."

"Guess what I want to do?"

"I don't have to guess."

"I want you to fuck me," she giggled.

Enough was enough I decided.

Her discarded clothes were within reach, along with the strips of cloth I'd torn to bind Vananella. I plucked her thong from the pile and stuffed it into her mouth before she could utter another word. Once I tied the gag in place I watched her wrestle futilely to get free. With her panties muting her voice I managed to doze off.

One of my last conscious thoughts before sleep was I no longer heard Namtor snoring.

He was gone when I awoke. 

As usual I jutted out like a log. I untrussed Vananella's wrists. "Nod if you want me to take your thong out of your mouth and put this in its place."

She nodded, eyes wide.

With the gag removed I fed my length between her lips. Her hands and mouth labored diligently to satisfy me.

"Are you ready to stop being my slave girl?"

"No," she grunted. "I'll do this whenever you want." 

"Hurry," I chided her, "we need to meet with the Sheikh."

Vananella obeyed.

When she had done her duty I put on a fresh loincloth and strapped on my sword. She complained about having to get up. She complained about wearing the shirt and the trousers. In the Sheikh's tent, ablaze with candles, he showed her a wicker hamper stuffed with women's clothing and invited her to find something that fit. All the fabric was sheer and brief in cut, the kind of clothes slave sluts wear. The presents improved Vananella's sullen mood. Chalk one more up to the Sheikh. Shrewdly he had outfitted her by guile in provocative clothing, comparing it to what she wore, men's clothes. What young girl did not want a feminine wardrobe? 

She chose a sheer orange top and bright green shorts.

"Before you put those on," said the Sheikh, "let me re-examine you."

Vananella endured the ritual again, this time bent across his knees. He stared at her anal socket before applying an insistent fingertip until she yelped and clenched her buttocks together. "That appears virginal as well," said the Sheikh. He stuck his examining finger in her mouth. "What about here? Have you been being a good girl?"

Vananella blushed and he ushered her away from him with a wicked grin. She scrambled into her new clothes. I could see the color of her nipples through the thin top and the indention of the vertical cleft on her lower mound. She might as well have been naked. What a devious clever Sheikh! 

He made approving noises as he fastened a black velvet choker around Vananella's sleek neck. A metaphorical slave collar. "Now are you going to translate for our Askaar friend?"

She said yes.

Max and Raj led the chained prisoner into the tent moments later. They remained behind to watch the Askaar, hands never far from their swords. Vananella reddened at their frank appraisal of her. Except for her clothing 

her behavior in private differed greatly with the public impression she made. The contrast struck me as most feminine, highly erotic. My thoughts had done a turnabout overnight. She was actually not much younger than Jadda, and squarely embarked upon her destination. Had I honestly tried to change her course, or just gotten her closer to that destination? Try as I might I was not going to overcome her strong will. Or the Sheikh's advocacy of her will.

Namtor entered the tent, said something in the Sheikh's ear. He gave the girl and me scarcely a glance, focusing his attention on the prisoner.

During the interrogation Vananella repeated the questions to him in Askaar. Namtor and the Sheikh did all of the asking, listened closely to 

the inflections in the exchanges between Vananella and the Askaar.

Were his people planning an attack or ambush?

How many warriors belonged to his tribe?

Would there be retribution for the deaths of the High Priest and others?

Would they come to take Vananella away?

Did he know where to find a witch doctor named Bali Wu?

Vananella glanced at me when the Sheikh spoke the witch doctor's name, but I didn't understand why at the time. She and the Askaar prisoner knew each other, not unusual since they dwelled in the same tribe. Seemingly they did more talking amongst themselves than the questions called for. They may, or may not, have been friends. They regarded one another as if they were the only two in the tent.

"He knows of Bali-Wu," Vananella translated. "Bali-Wu is a legend, much like the Sheikh."

"Does he know where to find him?"

"The Sheikh doesn't advertise his whereabouts, he says, and neither does Bali-Wu."

The man in the burnoose slammed an angry fist against an enameled tabletop, causing the contents to leap. He said to Vananella, "I assume you are friends with the prisoner?"

"We know each other by sight."

"Why? He said earlier it is a small tribe, sixty or less."

"I was separated from the men and held with the women. Because I was so young."

"You're not that young anymore. You spent many seasons living in that small Askaar tribe and went unmolested?"

She responded slyly with: "The Sheikh knows I'm a virgin."

"I'm wondering why they didn't ravish you before yesterday," the Sheikh pretended that something else just came to mind, "The prisoner claims he doesn't know where to find Bali Wu. Do you?"

"No sir," she said. "He is as elusive as you."

"But you've heard of him?"

"Just like I heard of you," she flattered, "before I got to meet you."

I turned away from them so no one would see the smile I'd been unable to suppress. The little slut was lying!

The best the Sheikh could do was to keep rolling south in the last known direction of the witch doctor's tribe. He dismissed the prisoner for the time being. While issuing orders to Namtor to get the caravan underway, he commented, "There may only be sixty of them, but what's to stop ten tribes from banding together and marching against us?"

"We'll be fine, Sheikh. Me and you have been in tighter spots before." 

As the flap closed behind Namtor I asked the Sheikh where Vananella would stay in the caravan.

"I think we'll put her in Danae's coach," he said, expressionless. "Don't worry, Jadda's in another coach today."

"I'll check in on her from time to time."

"The guard will be told not to harass you."

We went our separate ways: the Sheikh to the front; I walked Vananella to the coaches. Danae observed our approach leaning, naked and beautiful, against one of the wagons. I said good morning to her.

"Hi, Thwart," she said, "who's your friend?"

I introduced the girls. "Did the Sheikh tell you to watch after Vananella today?"

"No," Danae said, her smile meant more than just a smile, "but I'll take good care of her."

I didn't like the sound of that.

The first thing Vananella asked Danae before I got out of earshot was about her nipple piercings. I exhaled loudly, all I could do was go and find She-she. 

The caravan expected arrows and spears at every turn in the journey, but the only excitement occurred when the brush beaters stirred up a couple of lions. I saw the pony I'd ridden in the jungle, took note of the many other fine animals in the Sheikh's herd. Thoughts curled like smoke through my brain. 




The Phantom Pilot Ch. 04



The first time I rode back to the coaches was at the midday meal when the caravan traditionally stopped. When I looked in on my protégé she sat quietly amidst the slaves like a little sister, eating a slice of fruit, absorbing their stories, being corrupted by their outlook. As coaches went it was rather drab, two benches facing one another. Curtains rippled in the windows from the desultory breeze. Once I appeared Danae chased the other slaves out of the coach. She invited me inside and snapped the door shut behind me. We sat on the seat facing Vananella.

Somewhere along the way she had acquired kohl around her eyes and blue eyelids. She seemed as old as Danae with cosmetics on. Almost.

"Are they being to good to you?" I asked her.

"Of course we are," interrupted Danae. "We've had so much fun."

"Have they been teaching you any bad habits?" I grinned.

Danae interrupted again: "You'll have to wait until tonight to find out."

Vananella burst out laughing. She and Danae traded evil grins.

Danae pressed against me. "There is something on her mind."

I looked at Vananella, "What?"

"You show him," she said to Danae.

"What?" I asked again. 

"I really can't tell you," said Danae, "I have to demonstrate." She began kissing me, the rings through her nipples brushing my chest. 

Vananella saw the look in my eyes as I started to push away and violently shook her head no. I returned Danae's kiss. 

She cupped me in her hand, winked at Vananella. "He's ready for the demonstration." They giggled together.

I should have left, but I let them have their fun.

Danae freed me from my loincloth, her eyes clouding. "It's simply a magic act, Vana. Now you see it and now you don't." She swallowed me whole. When she came up for air she asked, "Did you see how I did that? It has a lot to do with holding your breath. Let me show you again." She showed Vananella, and me, again, and again. "You have to master the reflex against gagging." Her mouth left me just when I started to groan. She got to her feet, stretched, pinched Vananella on the cheek and said, "And that's how it's done, honey." She said over her shoulder to me, a leer on her face, "Thanks for cooperating. Now please excuse me, I need to get something to drink."

She left the coach as abruptly as she left me, devious as the Sheikh. The door snicked shut and Vananella and I were alone. 

"You wanted to learn how to do that?"

"I thought it would please you." She gazed between my legs; I was shiny with Danae's spit.

"Have you told anyone anything about us?"

"Of course not. That's a secret."

"Do not forget it's a secret which could get my head split."

"I won't, silly." She leaned toward me. "Let me try that on you." Her mouth hovered over me.

"No! We can't."

"Why not? Let me try anyway." Her head sunk deeply into my lap. 

Vananella had learned her lessons well and I couldn't believe what was happening, in broad daylight, when anyone could walk in at any moment. Absently I reached for the door to hold it closed in case someone suddenly barged in. But it opened underneath my hand! Through eyes fogged with pleasure I saw Jadda.

NEXT WEEK: The Temple of the Rhinoceros



The Phantom Pilot Ch. 05



Jadda stood there in shock.

Then she turned away without a word. 

Then Danae was outlined in the doorframe. "By the seven gray gods! Were you practicing on him, Vana? Who knows what Jadda will think?"

I grabbed Danae by the hair. "You brought Jadda over here on purpose after you started all this business."

"She wanted to talk to you, I just walked over with her." A pleased smile twisted her lips.

I never got to say another word as slave girls began piling into the coach. The midday meal was over. The love of my life might be over too. Hastily I tucked myself back into my loincloth. When I stepped into the suns light She-she squatted in the grass where I'd left her. I climbed gingerly into the saddle. All the teasing in the coach caused me an uncomfortable afternoon's ride. Nor had I gotten to eat. 

I checked in frequently with Vananella. She applied more and more cosmetics each passing time I saw her. When we made camp she looked older than I did. 

Danae remained cordial, as if nothing had happened, but we did not speak. 

Alone with Vananella in our tent that night I asked, "Did the girls help you or did you paint yourself?"

She was examining her face in a round mirror she'd looted from Thwart's chest. "They did most of it. Isn't it wonderful? I look like a woman." She had me convinced.

"Did Danae plan that business this afternoon?"

"When she brought Jadda to the coach door?"

"No, before that. Her demonstration? She got rid of all the girls and went into her act."

"Well, I had asked Danae to explain the secret of the art to me. But what happened surprised me. I didn't know she was going to do that."

"Did she tell you to pick up where she left off?"

"That was my idea," she sdmitted. "I was excited seeing you sticking out and I wanted to try it."

Vananella seemed like an innocent pawn in Danae's plot. I changed the subject, "What were you lying to the Sheikh about this morning?"

"Nothing important," she answered casually.

"Nothing important, like an ambush?"

"I would be risking my own life not telling him about an attack."

"I'm proud of you."

"You are?"

"The Sheikh's a hard man to lie to." But she'd done it.

"He can be very charming when he wants to be. There is an air about him."

"You've noticed?" I started to call her Vana, but caught myself in time.

"Of course, silly. You expect that from legends."

"So exactly what were you lying about?"

A mischievous grin lit up her face. "What do you think?"

"The whereabouts of Bali Wu?"

She only grinned more.

I asked, "Do you know where he is?"

"Of course," she said. "He's not half as legendary as the Sheikh."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

She was out-thinking me. "I wanted to tell you first. Maybe you can use such information to gather favor. Was it smart?"

"Very." Gather favor, no; I had a lever. But how would I use it?

Our discussion stalled when Namtor drifted in. He made idle chat before climbing into bed. He flipped through the pages a small book for a while. I feigned sleep while he read to avoid any further nighttime escapades with Vananella. She settled into my arms and she soon slept. Only after I heard Namtor's snoring did I ease from my couch. In Thwart's chest I'd seen a dagger in a sheath. Armed with just the knife I went out into the night. 

I skulked over to Jadda's tent. 

A single candle flickered inside, but a guard watched the entrance. No need to have any conversations with him. I altered my course and doubled back. Behind the tent I slit a vertical hole with a single cut of the knife. I stepped through. Jadda shared a space with three other girls, but two were unaccounted for. Jadda and the other girl slumbered peacefully. I clapped a hand over Jadda's mouth. Her eyes flew wide open. When she realized who it was, I held a finger to my lips. I took my chances. She could have raised her voice in a bloodcurdling shriek, but she acted docile and said nothing. 

A chain attached her to a stake in the ground. With great effort I pulled the stake free without attracting the guard. I stepped through the hole in the back of the tent, keeping the chain taut between the stake and Jadda's neck so the links wouldn't jingle. She followed me through. Then I picked her up in my arms and plunged into the jungle. She knew enough not to speak until we were out of camp.

After a while she said, "Where are you taking me?" 

"Right here," I said. 

When I set her down she tip-toed through the grass. "I guess you don't have a pass from the Sheikh since you came in the back entrance?"

"All I'm interested in is finding out a few things."

"What things?"

"Your feelings."

"About how I felt when I walked in on you and her?"

"Danae set that up."

"I well know that," she snapped. "What I don't know is why you let that girl . . ."

"Danae put her up to it."

"Stop blaming Danae instead of yourself. She got away with playing a joke on us, but she didn't force you into that girl's mouth."

"I have no excuse and can only apologize."

Pain sparkled in her eyes. "I love you, I think."

"I still love you, although it may not seem like it."

"Because of Danae and your new trollop?"

"I'm trying to save that young lady from slave chains. But she wants to be a slave."

"I can see that!"

"She's very young. Too young to know better."

"Well, my dear Thwart," she said in a fey voice, "I think she knows more than you're letting on."

"Are you jealous?"

"No," she lied. "You've always had other girls."

"Do you understand why I made the choice I made?"

"No. You and I know each other and you don't know her. It makes no sense."

"I'm trying to spare that girl a life of slavery."

"But in spite of your efforts she yearns for that life?"

She trumped me. I chewed at my tongue.

"Why don't you take me back to my tent? I need to go before I'm missed."

"You want to go back?" I asked.

"Unless . . ."

"Unless what?"

"You want to use me."

"I don't want to use you."

"Do you want to make love?" she asked, sarcastic.

"Maybe, that's different."

Jadda affected a sigh. "You can always use your tent slut."

"She's an innocent girl."

"I saw how innocent. What else have you taught her?"

Had I not been guilty of skirting the ban on making love to Vananella I would've slapped Jadda. I hung my head, feeling disgusted. "Let's get out of this camp," I said angrily. "I'll take you far from the Sheikh and his petty demands."

"You've promised that before."

"I meant it then. I mean it now."

"Just us two?"

"I must take Vananella away from this as well."

"Aha! A catch!" she snipped. "Will you return me to my tent now?"

"I want you."

"You apparently want her too."

"It's not what you think."

"I need to go now. There will be trouble if I am missed."

She didn't say trouble for me, or for her.

Scowling, I crept back through the jungle with her. Not a word passed between us. We entered through the back of the tent and I muscled the stake into the ground to secure her. The guard outside was oblivious.

As I prepared to leave she whispered, "I have enough chain to reach that cut. I can sew it closed before morning."

"You'd do that for me after what happened?"

"There's needle and thread here," she shrugged, "and I like to sew."

Before I left she kissed me quickly on the mouth. 

I was just as confused as before I talked with her. She loved me and did not want to share me. Or maybe not. Possibly I overlooked the social mores practiced in the known world. People loved one another freely and without a lot of attachments. Jealousy and possessiveness would seem rare in such a society yet where there are people there will invariably be love. 

Love is supposed to be great, when its not busy ripping you apart.

I slipped away from the tent and right into the path of the guard.

He regarded the point of my knife. 

"What are you doing here?" I whispered. 

"I heard you leave the tent," said Namtor.

"You hear a lot of things at night, don't you?"

"Not me, man. I sleep like a baby."

I stuck the knife in its sheathe. "So you awoke out of a sound sleep and accidentally followed me?"

"You aren't the only one who can fake he's asleep," he chuckled. "Besides, my curiosity got the best of me." 

"What happened to the guard?" I asked.

"I relieved the inept fool."

"He's not inept, I'm just quiet."

"The Sheikh can't have folk carrying his women off at their leisure."

"You saw?"

"And heard everything," he said.

"You've got big ears."

"But not a big mouth," he whispered. 

I thought of him as a friend, but could I still trust him? He was, after all, a confidant of the Sheikh. He pretended to sleep. He did a lot of whispering in the Sheikh's ear lately. The three of us had always spoken in front of one another. Why had that changed? "What do you think of the stunt you just witnessed, Namtor?"

"I think you should get back to your couch is what I think. There's a little lady sitting up waiting for you." He rested on the hilt of his cleaver, threw his head back and laughed, laughter that rumbled behind me all the way to my tent. 

When I got there Vananella was missing.

A number of mad scenes tumbled through my head. A group of warriors taking her into the woods. A midnight visit to the Sheikh. Maybe she went to bathe I thought then remembered we no longer camped at the river. Had she run away on her own? A sense of panic gnawed at me. I tilted my head at the sound of quick steps. The light of the moons shone on pale blonde hair flashing among the trees. Vananella?

I followed, my intent to catch up with her, but once I determined it was her I became more interested in where she was going. She had a bundle in her hands. She moved like she knew exactly where to go. I thought she would make for the perimeter, instead she entered the very center of camp. The reason became obvious. Intelligent jailers do not keep their prisoners close to an escape point like a perimeter. She went to talk with the Askaar captive. Even if I eavesdropped I wouldn't understand what they said. The man huddled by a post in the ground, chained. I wondered if Max and Raj still guarded the prisoner since I saw neither. 

Out of nowhere Raj pounced upon Vananella. I picked up my pace. 

"What do we have here, dearie?" Raj asked her, a fist in her hair.

Max's voice rasped, "That's the slave girl from the Sheikh's tent."

"Maybe the Sheikh sent her to break the monotony of our watch?"

"You know better, Raj," said Max, stepping into view. "This girl is under Thwart's care."

"What are you doing out here, dearie?"

"I came to give my friend some food," Vananella hissed. "Let go of my hair!"

"Is the food in that bundle?" Raj asked. He pulled her face toward his.

Max said, "You should let her go, you're asking for trouble."

"Who will take the word of a slave girl over that of warriors? I get her first." 

As he started unbuttoning his pants I unsheathed my sword loud enough for him to hear.

"What was that?" he asked into the trees, where I slid through the shadows.

I stepped into the moons' light, it glittered along the steel of my sword. "You should listen to Max," I said, "I'm in charge of that girl's welfare."

Raj let go of the girl and said, "She's not supposed to be here, let alone talking to the Askaar."

"Which changes nothing. You intended to use her."

"I was just going to scare her a little," Raj shrugged playfully. "No harm done, Thwart."

I returned the sword to its scabbard. "Right you are, absolutely no harm done." My fist hit him so hard in the midriff he came off the ground. The force of the blow doubled him up. Vomit dripped from his mouth. I tapped him one on the side of his head and Raj dropped into the grass. He moaned in pain.

"No harm done, right?" I said to Max and Vananella. 

They shook their heads agreeably. 

Max mentioned, "She really shouldn't be here, Thwart."

"I know you have your orders. She only wants to give the prisoner some food. That should only take a minute, right?"

Max nodded.

"All right, Vananella, do what you came to do."

She crouched next to the Askaar and unwrapped a handerkerchief that contained pieces of fruit and some large shelled nuts. They spoke while the man bit through the rind of an orange. I turned to Raj and extended a hand, hauled him to his feet. He didn't threaten me and I didn't apologize. After a while Vananella joined me at my side.

"Did your friend get enough to eat?" I asked her.

"Yes. Other than chaining him up they're not mistreating him."

"Nor will they," I promised. "Are you ready to go now?" 

She said she thought so and we bid goodnight to Max and Raj. I waited until we got back to the tent before complaining. 

"What's the idea leaving? You almost got hurt."

"You left and I got tired of waiting for you so I left."

"Don't wander off again, Vananella. Please."

"What will you do?" she taunted. She pushed her green shorts down her legs and off. "Tie me to the tent pole?" She removed her top and threw it at me.

"That sounds like a good idea, starting right now."

"What, what?" she cried when I snapped a manacle around one of her ankles. I closed the other one around the pole. She had plenty of chain to get around the tent. She stomped her pretty foot, fuming.

"I can't believe you're treating me like a slave girl."

"It's for your own good."

"Who are you? My father?"

"I thought you fancied the slave girl's life?"

She uttered an exasperated noise.

"You're not going anywhere else anyway. And you can still reach the bed comfortably. I'm not making you sleep on the ground."

She pouted a few minutes before crawling under the silks with me. She had plenty of chain. Her mouth opened to ask a question.

"Whatever you're asking the answer is no."

"You haven't even listened to what I wanted," she whined.

"If you try to practice your slave girl skills, you'll sleep on the floor of the tent tonight."

She slapped at my arm, lips crunched in disappointment.

"This is my favorite time of day with you, Thwart. In this couch."

"Charming me won't do any good," I said firmly.

"It always worked before."

"I beg your pardon, miss. When?"

"Every time we've been alone! In this tent, in Danae's coach. You pretend to put up a big fight, but you always give in. Always."

The truth of her words stung me. I had not deflowered her. Yet. How many more nights with her squirming against me would it take? Two, three? Tonight? Definitely not. "You think I'm going to give in now?"

She lowered her eyes at me. How many more days with Danae would it be before Vananella was seducing the men? I had to think of something to extricate us from the burgeoning problem of the Sheikh and his minions. The Bali Wu information initially seemed like power. Now I thought: why should I assist the Sheikh in finding his elixir? Once empowered, who knew what kind of monster he might turn into? That placed the girls I cared about in jeopardy.

One of those girls was trying to kiss me. "Let me try what I learned today," Vananella said in a husky voice.

"I said no already."

She spent the rest of the night on the floor of the tent.

At first light she crawled back into the couch. I mumbled, half-asleep, and she lay close to me. Was I dreaming or was an eager mouth kissing its way down past my navel? I dreamt I was in the womb again, feeling warm and enveloped. A release of pleasure shook me from my dream. I raised up on my elbows while lying on my back. Had Vananella mounted me while I slept? Had hers been the womb in the dream? I prayed not. When my eyes focused I saw she actually had a respectable amount of me down her throat. That accounted for the enveloping sensation.

She disengaged herself and clapped with glee. "I almost did it, I almost did it."

I swung out of the couch. Another day, another uphill battle. 

"Aren't you proud of me? I can't wait to tell Danae."

I put my face in my hands. "You told me you'd keep our secrets."

"This isn't really a secret since she saw me doing it to you yesterday."

"Everything that occurs in this tent is a secret."

She said she understood.

The Sheikh was preoccupied when he received us in his tent. He did not inspect Vananella or make provocative statements. Most importantly he had no inquiries about rumors concerning what occurred in a slave coach during yesterday's midday meal. I was glad he was distracted. On the floor of the tent lay a man who'd sweated through his clothes, he breathed by sucking in gulps of air. He could not speak, but grinned maniacally. The Sheikh spoke to him in a low voice, but the man had nothing to say. When Namtor came in the Sheikh barked, "Any sign of the other rider?"

"Just arrived. He's leaving his horse with the handler. Said he nearly rode it to death."

"What else did he say?"

Namtor squinted down at the man on the floor. "He said the same as this one, before this one lost his wits. They both say it's a temple, but not like any temple you could imagine."

"This could be what I've searched for."

"How's this rider doing?" asked Namtor.

"Worse ever since you left."

"Maybe he breathed in some happy dust in those ruins."

"If he was drugged that surely means these people know how to concoct medicine. Medicine is what I seek."

"But why drug this rider?"

"It's preferable to killing him. Was the second rider drugged?"

"He doesn't appear to be."

"Did he see what happened to this one?"

A voice from outside asked permission to enter before Namtor answered. "It's the other rider," he told the Sheikh.

"Let's ask him instead." He asked the man inside the tent.

He too was drenched with sweat, a look of horror fixed on his face. Vananella and I listened to his tale. The other outrider and he had ventured out before light to scout ahead. They stumbled upon an old temple, decayed and crumbling in ruin. Obscene stone carvings decorated the great edifice, but there had not been enough light to fully appreciate the spires, ramparts and various architectural oddities. The two riders went separate directions circling the building to meet on the other side. One rider had apparently been attacked by men on foot, although the other rider came upon the scene after the initial commotion. He only saw the rider spurring his horse away from the men, who were armed with bamboo blow-guns. The second rider eluded any hostilities with the men on the ground.

"Were the men Askaar or from another tribe?"

"Just men dressed in robes with hoods hiding their heads."

"Holy men perhaps?" asked the Sheikh.

The rider shrugged, he didn't know.

"And you didn't see what happened to this wretch?"

"Are there any darts sticking out of him?"

"No."

"Maybe they blew crazy powder in his face with their blow-guns."

"I thought so," said Namtor.

"The temple is a fortress," the rider reported. "Towers, slanted walls. Plenty of carvings and statues."

"What of? Animals, men?"

"In the light of a torch I saw a statue of an animal with a horn growing out of its snout."

The information excited the Sheikh. He said to Namtor: "The Temple of the Rhinoceros?"

"That would be my guess."

The Sheikh rubbed his hands together. "Very well. We'll go in with a large group, not looking for trouble, but prepared. I want to parlay with the inhabitants of this temple. Namtor, assemble four dozen of my bullies. That will leave the other half to guard the camp. You and Thwart will ride with us."

"Do you need an interpreter?" Vananella asked innocently.

"It's too dangerous," I said immediately.

"No, I like her idea," countered the Sheikh. "You never know who we may run into. She will ride alongside you, Thwart, and she'll be safe. She's in your care and everyone knows you're very protective of her." He told Namtor to round up the troops and me to have a pony readied for Vananella. The handlers would provide tame transportation for her.




The Phantom Pilot Ch. 05



We started out on horseback after a hurried breakfast, the suns barely up and a thick fog softening the landscape like clouds fallen from the sky. The Sheikh ordered me to bring up the rear with Vananella to better ensure her safety. She watched the mob of cutthroats in leather armor who rode ahead, steel at their side, bows or spears in hand. They paid many compliments to her skimpy attire. She trembled at their sight. Not by choice did the Sheikh surround himself with such men, I knew. He was a tough man in a tough business, those who qualified for a job in his raiding parties tended to be rogues, if not outright criminals. 

Vananella regarded them with suspicion. 

"See any handsome masters in the group?" I teased her.

She wrinkled her mouth at me. "Three or four." 

"Ride up to one of them and start a conversation."

"No!" she said, hoping no one would overhear. "I'm staying back here with you."

I thought she might, but did not say it aloud. "Is Bali Wu connected in any way to this temple?"

"Not to my knowledge." 

She lied well, but was she lying to me?

We continued in silence. The ride was not far. With the second rider at the front guiding the Sheikh we arrived as the first planks of morning light pierced the fog. I discerned the gloomy lines of the building, the bizarre architecture. The surfaces of the domed towers were intricately sculpted to resemble phalluses. A closed gate wide enough to drive a wagon through was set into the walls, but no moat, the structure grew right out of the soil. Lush jungle greenery surrounded it. Many rhinoceros statues perched in a neglected garden, overgrown with grass and weeds. Statues of women invariably had exaggerated breasts, those of men or animals had similarly oversized organs. Carvings of huge attributes protruded from the walls: beside the expected ones I saw vulvas, testicles, rabbit and rooster heads. Obviously the place was a fertility temple, the reason the Sheikh became so intent upon it.

My young companion stared more at the temple than she had the men. "I don't want to go inside there," she stated.

"I doubt we will. The Sheikh wants to meet with them. In peace and outside."

"I wonder if I'll have to do any translating?"

"You asked to do it," I reminded her.

"I've changed my mind. It's a woman's prerogative."

"Did Danae teach you that?"

A gong rang before she could speak. I saw a column of men gathered on the ramparts of the temple, clad in robes. They held thin lengths of bamboo, or clutched scrolls close to their hearts. A knife or sword hung from every belt. The Sheikh signaled to his bowmen to stand at ease as a sign of good faith. The gong crashed again and chanting began on the ramparts.

I didn't understand any of the words like at the Askaar camp. "Can you make out what they're chanting?" I asked Vananella.

She nodded. "It's an Askaar dialect. I comprehend enough to make the Sheikh's wishes known."

Remembering her hesitation I said: "I'll tell him you don't understand if you want me to. Then you can remain back here."

Mischief twinkled in her eyes as she urged her pony forward. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

I counted on my fingers. "I lost it four days ago."

The mischievous look turned quizzical.

When we reached the front Namtor and the Sheikh were agreeing they truly had located the fabled Temple of the Rhinoceros. 

Upon seeing Vananella the men on the ramparts ceased chanting and banging the gong. They spoke animatedly among themselves, pointing to the girl. 

The Sheikh asked her, "Do you know what they're saying?"

"They were praying for an oracle, or a sign."

"For what?"

"Trust. Friendship."

"Why do they keep gesturing at you? Are you the oracle?"

"I seem to be."

"How convenient and transparent a ruse. The innocent virgin?" scoffed the Sheikh, skeptical.

Namtor said "Not every tribe and camp in the known world is hostile."

"Do not discount the fifty armed riders outside their front door," the Sheikh said tartly.

"And what about the happy dust they used on my partner?" muttered the rider.

"They dispatched an intruder, without killing him," Namtor said with a wide shrug of his shoulders. "It's in our best interests if they are peaceful."

"It would be in their best interests to deceive us too," the Sheikh said out of the side of his mouth. "Anyway, what matters is the time has come to bargain."

"What should I say to them?" asked Vananella.

"Tell them we come in force solely to safeguard our ranks. We only wish to purchase medicine and peacefully depart their hallowed grounds."

"Should I announce that right now?" 

"Let them speak first."

A man from the temple called down to Vananella. 

"I think he wants me to disrobe," she whispered to the Sheikh, "to appear in my pure divine state."

The Sheikh spat, "I think the old fool has ingested too much rhino horn."



The Phantom Pilot Ch. 06



"I think the old fool has ingested too much rhino horn," spat the Sheikh, "but do as he says."

I knew it foolish to object, any protest of the charade would be overruled.

Vananella climbed out of the saddle. She stripped off her bottoms and pulled the top over her head. Men voiced their approval on both sides of the temple walls. She hung her clothes from her saddle horn, stepped timidly forward, separating herself from the men on horseback. Picking her way through the grass, naked in the fog, elevated her beauty: the weight of her ripening breasts, the slope of her belly, her rounded pudenda, saucy bottom and long slender legs. Her buttocks quivered deliciously with every step she took. She stopped next to one of the rhinoceros statues in the garden. From there she and the man on the ramparts conducted a tense conversation. At times Vananella spoke sharply. Even in a foreign language I understood her to be arguing with him. So did the Sheikh. He acted like it was my fault. 

"The little bitch is going to get us killed if she doesn't keep a civil tongue in her head."

"She's negotiating," I said.

"I'm warning you, Thwart, she better not ruin this parlay."

"Are you threatening me, Sheikh?"

He scowled at me. I expected words with him, but Vananella ran back to the statue and threw her arms around me. 

Her entire body shivered nervously.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"What were you saying to them?" the Sheikh asked angrily.

"They have agreed to meet with you."

Before the Sheikh said anything we heard the grating of metal and the big temple gate creaked open halfway. From the ramparts the men descended and filed through the opening. They walked through the garden to where Vananella had stood and stopped. The hoods of their robes were down, they had sleek black hair and bronzed skin. All had young faces except for the spokesman, a wizened old man. They held their scrolls and their bamboo tubes at their sides, their knives and swords sheathed. I counted eleven of them. 

"They're meeting us in the middle," the Sheikh said. "Namtor, have a few men dismount and follow us out there. Thwart, bring the saddlebags from my horse." He took Vananella's hand. "Come with me, dear, we're going back to meet with them and talk." 

The man in the burnoose led the naked girl forward, three warriors and Namtor right behind them. I unhitched the saddlebags, they weighed a lot. The Sheikh was willing to spend much gold to regain the vigor of his youth. Our delegation met their delegation. After introductions and an exchange of salutations Vananella was instructed to ask about a potency elixir. 

"What is that?" she asked the Sheikh.

"Just tell them," he said.

"I have to know what you want, so I can make them understand."

The Sheikh had to get into more personal detail than he'd rather divulge. I tried not to smile while he patiently explained the problem for Vananella to translate, barely keeping a lid on his fury. Finally she conveyed the message and struck a deal. The Sheikh wanted ten liters of elixir; they wanted three kilos of gold. From the way they kept licking their chops I'm certain they wanted Vananella too, especially the old one. The saddlebags lay at my feet, my hand rested on the guard of my sword.

The simple deal had its complications. The Sheikh demanded proof that he wasn't buying rainwater. The old man offered to verify the effects of the elixir whereupon he removed his robe. A stoppered vial hung from a silver necklace. He displayed how limp and uninspired he was, manipulating his flaccidity to no avail. 

The Sheikh barked, "Vananella, parade your nudity in front of the old man. Arouse him."

She protested, "I don't want to touch him!"

"By the seven gray gods you don't have to touch him. Try to excite him."

"But how?"

"Pose suggestively for him," the Sheikh said, "show him what he wants to see."

Vananella stretched and undulated like a slave girl attempting to entice a man to pick her to spend the night in his tent. Appreciative murmurs accompanied her performance and emboldened her to allow generous glimpses of the intimate slopes and valleys of her flesh. Her display had no effect on the limp old man although the same could not be said of me. Out of disappointment Vananella finally grasped and stroked his limpness as her finale. 

"He's hopeless," she pronounced. 

She released him, backed a few steps away. The old man spoke to her. 

Vananella translated for the Sheikh: "He wants to know if you believe he is incapable of being excited."

"That almost got a rise out of me," the Sheikh complimented her. "Tell him I believe him."

The old man babbled at Vananella. Her interpretation was, "He will now drink the elixir to remedy his social embarrassment." 

He uncorked the vial on the slender chain around his neck and swallowed half the clear liquid it contained. Within moments he appeared as potent as a young lad, without visual or tactile stimulation. The Sheikh was impressed and took the vial when the old man handed it to him. He downed it like a Brandy neat. Then he lifted his burnoose to bare his own flaccid malady. 

"Take me in your hand, Vananella."

She formed the word no on her lips, but a look from his hypnotic eyes silenced her. Tentatively she reached toward him.

The situation deteriorated deplorably for me over the last ten minutes. I didn't care greatly for the way things were going, but now was not the time to let Thwart's rebellious passions take over in a maelstrom of bloodletting. While gritting my teeth I had a premonition of disaster. But I put down the thought to only being impetuous. With ten to one odds in our favor, what could go wrong? I fought the urge to snatch Vananella and flee. Then a lot happened at once. The old man dropped swiftly to his knees, got his blow-gun to his lips and a mist swam about the Sheik's head. Vananella ducked in time, but the distracted Sheikh had been caught with his pants down. Behind the old man four others stepped in close to our party and unleashed the mist from their bamboo weapons. The Sheikh toppled. I avoided the fumes, others did not. Namtor fell next, along with two more. The old man sprang to his feet and threw the cringing Vananella over one shoulder. Seven robed men advanced with their steel drawn. My sword struck twice before I knew it was out of its scabbard. I went headlong after the old man who retreated with surprising quickness. Maybe the elixir enhanced all kinds of strength. As I slammed against bodies and dodged sword jabs I saw the Sheikh being carried off through the garden. Fate, or maybe the seven gray gods, offered me a choice.

Vananella, or the Sheikh? 

I sliced the top of a man's skull off and sprinted after the girl. 

Where had the Sheikh's mercenary horsemen got to? Two dozen archers on the ramparts launched a thicket of arrows into our ranks. Then another volley. They probably decimated the Sheikh's riders, but I concentrated on Vananella. If they got her inside that temple she'd either come out dead, or never the same. Chaos erupted and no one paid me any mind after the hail of arrows. I overtook the old man easily, slashed murderously at the backs of his knees. He crashed down like a house of cards. I caught the girl under my left arm before he hit the dirt. I ran. I hoped to circle around various skirmishes among the statues, snare a few riderless ponies for our departure. My plan unraveled when two men in robes attacked us. Without the element of surprise they took more time to dispatch. The first one came in low, a knife in his hand. I kicked the sole of my foot into his face, crunching bone like eggshells. The second man whirled his sword. Our edges met three or four times. I left him with a nice incision across his stomach. He clawed to hold his entrails inside as I dashed for the horses.

Only two of the original eleven inhabitants of the temple escaped our steel, but those who survived had captured Namtor and the Sheikh. The gate shut behind them. They were prisoners inside the Temple of the Rhinoceros. Seven of our riders were dead, ten wounded. The others had moved out of arrowshot, but, with their leader gone, moped indecisively. They discussed their options. Should they drive the whole caravan onto the temple grounds and fight? Or had their terms of employment come to an end, releasing them from any trifling loyalties?

Keeping an eye out for archers, and the Sheikh's men, I recollected the saddlebags crammed with gold coins. They nestled forgotten in the tall grass where I'd left them, not many knew the contents of the bags anyway, but I was surreptitious as possible. Except for Namtor I might have ridden away with the gold and the girl. I got Vananella onto a pony, not the tame one she'd been accustomed to. We joined the discussion of the Sheikh's horsemen. In time of emergency they looked at me, not her. 

I asked them, "Have you placed anybody in charge in the Sheikh's absence?"

They said no.

"I appoint myself," I said with authority. "Anyone wishing to desert is free to follow his own conscience. Those staying with the camp will follow me. Any arguments?"

There were none, no deserters either. I posted four riders at each corner of the temple so all sides could be watched. A minimum of two riders rode together at all times, if a matter needed tending to. Most of the wounded could still manage in the saddle, but some needed help. The rest of the riders I detailed to protect and aid the wounded on the way back to camp. They were to get the caravan headed this way, it would arrive this afternoon. An advance team of riders was promised in two or three hours with food and water. And reinforcements. 

A few grumbled, but acquiesced. 

No other alternatives presented themselves. I planned for the warriors to storm the temple although I didn't mention it then. I had other plans too, the best way to get Namtor and the Sheikh out alive was to get inside soon, very soon. They wouldn't be alive a few hours from now without outside help. And, what to do with Vananella? I couldn't take her into that deathtrap any more than I could just leave her to her own devices. 

As the wounded rode away from the temple Vananella insisted upon interrupting my thinking, "You're in command now?"

"For the time being."

"Is the Sheikh dead? He fell right after inhaling the mist."

"I don't think they'd've bothered with him or Namtor if they were dead. More than likely they're just unconscious. They want them alive for some reason," I said, unsure if I believed it.

"They used sleeping powder in their blow-guns?"

"Sleeping powder or something like it."

"What are we going to do?"

"I'm going to have to get inside the Temple of the Rhinoceros."

"Pardon me," she smirked, "but have you taken leave of your senses?"

"I'm getting Namtor out of there."

"The Sheikh too?"

"The Sheikh too."

"You could be in charge if you left him to rot. Or we leave on two fast ponies now that you're rich."

You didn't fly anything under her radar. Vananella combined brains and beauty. She also weathered well under pressure and when in danger. She and I had been in danger before now. The more I got to know about her the more I admired her wit and cleverness. Before long the Sheikh and Danae would have nothing on Vananella. 

"What makes you think I'm rich?"

"I saw you pick up the gold the Sheikh intended to pay for the medicine with."

"That belongs to him," I said, "not me."

"That's a lot of temptation to resist."

"I've had a lot of practice resisting temptation lately."

"What if you don't get him out alive?"

"At that time the saddlebags may come into my possession." And the only person I trusted leaving the gold with had a sudden yen to be wealthy.

I was beset with conundrum after conundrum. Sneaking into the Temple of the Rhinoceros would be suicidal, but carrying riches in the company of a beautiful virgin: madness. Earlier I hadn't noticed Max in the excitement and aftermath between the two delegations. He was among the men who stayed behind. I called to him. Vananella blanched at his sight. 

"He'll eat me and throw the bones to the hyenas," she said quickly.

"No, he won't, he'll be your fairy godmother," I chuckled as Max rode over to us.

"What needs to be done, Thwart?" 

"Would you assume an added responsibility?" I asked. "It's not without its rewards."

Max looked at Vananella and back to me.

I handed him a gold coin. "Here's part of your reward. You get a second one when we're out of here."

"What do I have to do?"

"Watch over her, don't let anyone near her." Vananella had arranged her hair to cover her breasts. "Maybe you can find her some clothing too."

"Where are you going?" asked Max.

"Into the temple," said Vananella.

"Now?" he asked.

"Yes."

"If you're bringing the Sheikh out, and Namtor, I should be going with you."

"Me too," said Vananella.

"I need both of you outside. If I break them free we will need to leave in a hurry. Make sure ponies are saddled and ready for them, Max." I turned to Vananella, "You'll watch my horse, won't you?" She knew I meant the saddlebags.

Max spurred his horse several paces away to give her and me privacy. We conversed in whispers.

I told her if I died in there, she could use the gold to buy her freedom. "Don't let it out of your sight, it's your future."

She looked down sadly. "Why don't you take me far from here now?"

I said, "I cannot desert a friend."

"You're deserting me. To go to your death."

"I have to see inside to know what's possible. If it's impossible I'll be right back."

"Don't take the chance, getting out isn't as easy as getting in."

I replied, "Will you say that tonight when I'm making you a woman?"

Tears formed in her eyes. She kissed me sweetly. I dismounted, placed the reins in her hands. 

Inside the temple I wanted to blend in, not attract any attention. The best way would be to have a disguise. I lurked through the garden of rhinoceros statues. No one watched from the walls as I stole the robe from one of the deceased delegates. I found one not drenched in blood, folded it under my arm and melted into the jungle. Even though I had riders posted at all four corners of the temple I had not circled it completely on foot. I wanted to determine the best way in for me. Something told me Thwart could scale those walls with little effort, all I needed to do was pick the most accessible point.

I began my climb where the vegetation of the jungle grew closest to the temple. Using the interstices of the massive blocks as a ladder I progressed upwards until carvings protruded from them. They made convenient and solid handholds. Up I went, unchallenged, just another shadow on the wall. In very little time I scrambled over the ramparts. I drew on the robe I had secured to my belt for the climb, pulled the hood over my head.

Stone stairs led down, but I sought something not so open, like a door. I walked with confidence, like I belonged there. Ahead an archway opened onto a corridor. The rooms within the hallway yielded nothing informative. More stairs spiraled down a stairwell. I had no confrontations until I came to a landing. A man in a robe with the hood drawn back walked toward me, but we crossed paths without speaking. He went up the stairwell and I followed the landing into another corridor. At the end was a walled bridge that joined to one of the obscene domed towers. I crossed and looked down from a mezzanine into a rotunda. A ceremony took place. 

It would've been convenient to find the Sheikh and Namtor below in the company of a lone guard, but they were nowhere to be seen. They might still be unconscious if I found them. What would I do then? Levitate them out? I hoped they'd be able to move under their own power when the time came and put the thought from my mind. I had to locate them first.

In the rotunda a group of naked men ringed around an altar, all of them young-faced men with black hair. An unclad temple slut lay on her back. Some of the men held her wrists and ankles while others inserted phallic objects of onyx or obsidian deeply into her mouth and the orifices between her thighs. The ones holding her attempted to contain her throes of pleasure rather than restrain her. The slut participated enthusiastically. Her moans and cries echoed through the hall. Her olive skin shone with sweat, black hair clung to her face. She was about the age of Vananella. I suspected I watched the first scene of a play containing many acts and had neither time nor inclination to play white knight. I was in a fertility temple and wouldn't change things, or further my cause, by interfering in one of their rites. Just before moving on I noticed a minor character squatting at the edge of the stage. 

A second temple slut, hands chained behind her back and forgotten, waited to be the next victim. Lustrous black hair fell over her face and shoulders; she had her wrists chained behind her and wore no clothing. I searched for a way into the ceremonial hall and saw two different stairways. The one I chose wound behind a series of arches near the girl. With everybody's attention glued to the altar, including the second girl, I bounded down the stairs three at a time. When I crept into the rotunda the girl had her back to me, knees pressed to the marble floor. At the altar they were too preoccupied to notice so I simply swept her up in my arms. With a hand clamped over her mouth to silence any outcry I leapt back up the stairs. I raced across the bridge and into the one of the empty rooms off the corridor.

I motioned for the girl to keep quiet, "Nod if you can understand what I'm saying."

She nodded without speaking.

"Do you know where the old man is?"

A nod.

"How about the two prisoners brought in a few minutes ago?"

A shake of her head. No matter, the old man should know the location of Namtor and the Sheikh. Ideally I could save them without having to kill or confront any of the temple's defenders, but that wasn't going to happen. An idea got me to thinking. "Is there a dungeon, or rooms with bars on the doors, in this place?" When the girl nodded I told her to show me. She might be missed any moment by the men in the rotunda so I urged her to great haste.

Making our way down through the levels of the temple we met several people in corridors and on stairways. I acted like I guarded the temple slut and was leading her somewhere. I kept one hand squeezed around her upper arm and the other on my hilt. No one said a word to us as we passed; the ploy worked time and again. Away from the upper floors the temple grew gloomy and dark. A moist and fetid smell swirled in the air, almost tangible. In the murk I saw paintings on the walls, scenes of orgies and abominations. 

We headed for the lowest level, perhaps a basement or underground chamber. Like the wishful thinking of immediately discovering the Sheikh and Namtor in the rotunda I knew it would be too good to be true to reach our destination without a fight. 

Two men rounded a corner, their eyes widened at the girl.

"Celeste? What are you doing down here?" they said. 

Then they looked to me.

They took steps toward me.

The girl, and the hood, had finally done me in. I was the only hooded person among those inside. Had I not worn it I would have been identified at once. Since a military situation transpired outside I assumed, despite the ritual in the rotunda, most people had been hurrying to either a battle station or some secure place and had not paid us much mind. I whipped my sword from the scabbard. A short exchange of blades left the first man bleeding on the flagstones. One was down and losing blood before the next one got his sword in hand.

As astounded as I am about Thwart's abilities I can now recognize the genesis of the feints and jabs and shifts before they occur. One particular trait of his swordsmanship I marvel at is his use of combinations. Thwart does not hack and slash clumsily, hoping to make a cut. My favorite is a slash, slash, thrust pattern with the blade. The brilliant thing is Thwart can deliver either slash backhanded or forehanded. Perhaps some Samurai influence exists or it's purely Thwart's innovation. I can only imagine what else is lost in his memory because I've never seen anyone wield a sword with the finesse of a tennis racket. Neither had my opponent. I sent his sword flying in one direction and brought my edge back along his throat. A red mist in the air coated a section of the wall as he fell. 




The Phantom Pilot Ch. 06



Celeste had a hand to her mouth at the sight of sudden violence, her feet rooted to the spot. I gave her a nudge to snap her out of it. We stepped over the bodies and continued on. She obviously understood me; it caused me to wonder why the old man spoke an arcane language requiring an interpreter earlier. More subterfuge from the Temple of the Rhinoceros? Maybe they thought they could keep the Sheikh off balance more easily, or just wanted to get a good look at Vananella, the only woman in our party.

They tricked us from the start.