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The Phantom Pilot

By: The Phantom Pilot



"Yes, master." 

To me the Sheikh said, "And you! After you have been ministered to I want you to accompany Jadda to my tent as well."

I inclined my head to him, but indeed, I was more curious about all that ministering business he kept referring to. 

He turned his attention back to the kneeling girl to admonish her. He gestured with his whip. His cruelty and his mastery of the girl seemed real enough, but he and she played a strange game with each other. "Girl, you have a quick tongue. You know better than to speak before you're spoken to."

"Master is correct."

"Don't let it happen again."

"It will not, sir."

Another gesture of the switch: "Or you won't be able to sit for a week!"

Was she smiling? "Yes, sir."

"Or maybe I'll give you fifty stripes just because I feel like it."

From where I stood I couldn't see her face, but I knew she was smiling. "Whatever master wishes."

"I know you like getting a smacked bottom."

"Master embarrasses me."

He took something from his sash. "Open your mouth," he ordered her.

The girl obeyed.

He placed something inside her mouth, "After you and he have cleaned up, do not forget to report to me."

"Yes, sir," she said around the object in her mouth.

The Sheikh said to Namtor, "Let us leave these two alone." I heard one of them chuckle as they departed into the jungle.

Jadda turned to face me, still on her knees. 

Now darkness had fallen, but light from the heavens illuminated the surroundings. In the sky I counted five moons, three full, two crescents. Since the heavenly body I was most interested in knelt right in front of me I questioned nothing. Time enough for that later.

Splashed in chiaroscuro light and shadow the body of the girl took on an air of mystery. She rose up on her knees to better reveal herself to me. Her plump breasts bounced interestingly with her every move. The light of the moons played upon the deep vertical indentation bisecting the pronounced bare mound between her upper thighs. Her hairlessness drew more attention to that inviting crease.

Jadda clapped her hands together joyously at the sight of my physical reaction. "Here," she said. She took my hand between both of hers. She bent her head down and spat something into my hand. A key.

"What's this?" I asked.

She arched her eyebrows, impatient with me, "The chains." I had been so captivated with her I forgot about the shackles, her nakedness rendered them invisible. "Are you surprised the Sheikh gave me to you?"

Frankly I was, but answered her question with one of my own: "Has he never done that before?" 

She pouted, "You do still not remember?"

I shrugged, not thinking, holding the key, but not the one I sought.

"Well?" she said.

"Well what?" I asked.

She held up her wrists to me. "Aren't you going to unlock these?"

I smiled weakly and fumbled with the key until the chains lay in the grass at our feet. Jadda came into my arms, kissing me passionately. I returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm. With my healthy reaction pressed against her belly she ground suggestively against me. Behind her back I reached down to grip a fat cheek in each hand so she could not move away.

Between kisses she whispered, "Before your bath I need to fetch soap and cosmetics from my tent in the camp."

I kissed her again.

She said coyly, "First, there's something I want to do for you." She brought one of my hands to her lips, sucked my index finger.

"Do you like that?" I asked.

Jadda giggled and continued doing what she was doing, her eyes on mine. After a minute of that she asked, "Guess what I really want to suck?"

I nearly groaned, "What?" 

She whispered her naughty answer hotly in my ear. She kissed me, she kissed my chest, she kissed my belly, sinking lower. Her hands worked at my belt buckle, stripped away my loincloth. She knelt before me, gripping me intimately. When I saw what she held in her hands I surprised myself. Old man Walker had nothing to be ashamed of however Thwart was a man among men. She gripped in her fists evidence of one big reason Jadda held me in such high regard. 

She stroked me, absolute adoration in her eyes. "You're a work of art, darling," she sighed.

I felt the wet dab of her tongue.

After prolonged licking and kissing she made the latest object of my amazement disappear completely. Her mouth engulfed me, the tip of me lodged down her throat. The sensation almost caused me to lose control. She drew back from me, my length shiny with spit and then got her nose wedged against my belly as she swallowed me whole again. After many repetitions displaying the mastery of that skill her head bobbed over my lap as she employed a shallower technique. It proved to be no less effective as I shortly rewarded her efforts with a cry of pleasure and my knees threatening to give underneath me. My hips began pumping involuntarily. Jadda gulped quickly and I heard her repeated swallowing. She made a few retching sounds, but I kept a firm hand in her hair and the other under her chin to assure she didn't slight the task she'd set herself. I held her head in place despite her choking, gratifying myself with the unabridged usage of her bottomless throat. When she finally looked up at me, those adoring eyes glazed, drool trickled from between her lips. 

A white pearl formed on the end of me, a lone bead, about to drip. Jadda licked it up before it fell.

My legs shook so hard I collapsed beside her in the grass.

She stroked my face with her fingertips, whispering sweetly to me. 

I placed anxious hands on her body, but she rolled away. I let her know how surprised I was but it came out feebly, "I wanted to please you."

She smiled, a gleam in her eye. "Now put your clothes back on, baby." When I reached for her again she got to her feet, the movement causing an interesting shimmy of her flesh. "We must get my bathing things from my tent. I promise to do it again when I bathe you."

I reached for my loincloth, belted on my sword while grumbling in mock protest, "The Sheikh said you were to minister to me, you heard him."

"There's a long night ahead, Thwart."

"But soon we must report to . . ." 

"You really don't remember, do you?"

Before I could answer, not that I had an answer, a shape burst from the underbrush in an explosion of leaves. Like before, the sword leaped into my hand before I realized how it got there. Jolly good too; I barely had time to slash clumsily at my attacker. The sword got a solid bite however and made a grisly thunk. A large chap with a grotesque misshapen head too big for his body went down with a crash. The ground didn't shake under my feet, but the big thing fell hard. A brother or cousin of his appeared, with skin a ghastly mixture of purple and white, like an eggplant. He growled in a feral manner, grabbing at Jadda with huge swollen hands. She recoiled in terror. I made an athletic leap to her side. A decisive chop of my sword sliced the top of his big head off in a shower of warm viscera.

No one from the Sheikh's party raced to our assistance. 

Two more cousins loomed from the trees and underbrush. One of them landed a punch to the side of my head with a fist the size of a brick. I staggered, but did not fall. Such a blow would've knocked Walker into the middle of next week yet Thwart weathered that love tap without complaint. I snapped the blade against his arm in an attempt to sunder that murderous fist. When that tactic failed I kicked him in the chest hard enough to hear bones crunch. The brute toppled to the ground. My strength and agility continued to surprise me. The accurate violent reactions stemmed from second nature, I did what I did without being conscious of it. 

The other one approached me with a club bigger than a ball bat. In my hands the sword danced like a living thing, writing a red end to him. The goon I'd kicked tried rushing me from behind. Hot blood splashed across me again as I carved his belly with steel. Both bodies thrashed upon the ground, convulsing in death, snorting like angry dogs. 

I hacked away with my sword, reveling in their destruction. Eagerly I looked around hoping to find additional assailants but only a terrified slave girl knelt before me. She watched the blood drip from my sword. I flicked the blade impatiently, sent errant drops splattering in the grass. My chest heaved with the exhilaration flooding through me. All the blood-letting and swordplay fired my blood as much as Jadda's lovemaking.

Still no one from the camp came to investigate.

I cleaned my sword on the rags one of the corpses had worn for clothing. "What manner of men are these?"

"They're not men, they're creatures," shuddered Jadda. "Mutants."

I noted hands with six and seven fingers, horrible swollen extremities, heads large and lopsided. One of the mutants had an arm longer than the other, joined to an elephantine hand. Another had an eye the size of a golf ball bulging out of its socket. The other eye was normal, but frozen wide open in death. They stared into nothingness from a head the shape of a trapezoid. I saw sloth-like feet with two toes. All four dead mutants had discolored eggplant skin.

"How did they get to be this way?" I asked Jadda.

Instead she licked her lips, bright-eyed from the violence she witnessed. "I have never seen you in battle. Your reputation with the sword is well deserved."

"Answer my question, girl, don't change the subject. What happened to them?"

She crawled toward me on her knees and kissed at my thighs. I could only guess what was next. I pushed her away. Her nipples pointed at me, the tips hard as bullets.

"I asked you what happened to them?"

She hesitated, but said, "They stood too close to the Fire."

"I don't understand."

"The Fire transformed them, changed them. The mutants are shunned by civilization," Jadda informed me, "They wander in the wilderness. They are ill, they spread disease."

I stepped back from the bodies. Insects already buzzed about them.

"What is the Fire?"

"What? The Fire is just there," she seemed at a loss for words, "like the stars and the moons."

Uneducated claptrap, I thought. Wherever I was, science wasn't there yet. "Let's get out of here."

"I agree. We must go to my tent."

I asked her to lead the way, but first she reached down into the tall grass.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

The clink of chain answered my question. Jadda said, "If I lose these, the Sheikh will beat me."

"I will take you away from the Sheikh," I announced.

She laughed like I was being ridiculous, "And how would you keep me?"

"What do you mean?" I wanted to know. 

"Without the largesse of the Sheikh you would have nothing," she said. She elaborated, "I would have nothing."

"You must explain all this to me, Jadda?" I put my tattooed arm around her shoulders. She leaned against me, we started walking.

"The Sheikh feeds us. Protects us. Without him we would die," she said as patiently as talking to a child.

I was confused. "Why?"

"Who would furnish us food? Shelter?"

"I can work," I said impetuously, "I would support the two of us."

"You already have work, Thwart. With the Sheikh. Why would you wish to leave his employ? He treats you very well."

"But he beats you. He owns you."

"So?" She laughed at my incomprehension. "Did you hear him say I liked a smacked bottom?"

"Yes."

"He's not wrong. My life among the Sheikh and his men is pampered and exciting."

"He keeps you in chains, like a dog!"

"Not like a dog, Thwart, like a slave girl. There's a world of difference."

I wanted to reply but held my words in check. We walked in silence the rest of the way to the encampment. Up ahead I saw a pair of men in leather armor and helmets. Scimitars were stuffed through the wide sashes around their waists and both held spears. Automatically I reached for my sword.

Jadda told me, "Relax, Thwart. Those are the Sheikh's men guarding the camp perimeter. Do you not recognize Portor?"

Everyone seemed to forget I had no memory. "I recognize no one," I said to her dismay.

"Well, pretend that you do," she said to me. To them: "Hail, fellows. It is Jadda and Thwart." 

One of the guards, a large nasty-looking character with a shaven head, grunted in an unfriendly manner. His upper torso bulged with muscle, his chest and arms littered with tattoos of skulls and devil's heads. The other man, leaner and younger, had long brown hair tied behind his head. He welcomed us. The shaven-headed fellow growled something under his breath about slave girls and guard duty. Before he affected to wander off about his own business he spat in the grass close to my feet. Jadda's arm tightened around mine and I ignored the implied insult.

The lean man said, "Don't mind him, Thwart. He's just jealous because he has to work while you're with a beautiful girl." He gazed upon Jadda's attributes in undisguised awe.

"You are so sweet, Portor," Jadda said, "Thank you."

Portor addressed me, "I'm jealous too, but I don't get angry like Kyle does. It's not your fault the Sheikh detailed us to be part of the watch tonight. How many times have I seen you spend sleepless nights walking the perimeter?" His eyes shifted from me to stare again at Jadda's nudity. 

I shrugged. Portor seemed infatuated with her, but I supposed most men she came into contact with shared similar feelings. I was glad she was in love with Thwart.

Jadda reported the mutants we'd encountered down the trail. Portor said he'd get word to the Sheikh, notifying him of mutants. 

As we moved on Portor said to my back, "I see you're on your feet again. You looked dead when I saw you this afternoon, Thwart." 

I lifted my sword arm in thanks.

Jadda informed me out of earshot of Portor that he, along with Namtor, were my closest friends in the Sheikh's entourage. Neither of us mentioned the man Kyle, but I knew he was no friend. I also knew we'd meet again.

My lovely companion occupied a small tent, probably with three other girls. Four metal posts were driven into the ground with short lengths of chain fastened to them for securing slaves. I wondered where her tent-mates might be, but soon discovered they had duties to perform, as did Jadda. A candle burned on a small table. Then I got one more surprise, a first look at myself, or Thwart rather, in a mirror.

My hair was matted and wild, like my eyes. A number of earrings pierced each ear, a string of teeth hung around my neck. Colorful tattoos extended from shoulder to wrist on my left arm. Dragons and feral cats, symbols and runes, unclad maidens and witches, elves and wizards, among other figures, covered my arm. The rest of Thwart's body was clean-limbed and void of tattoos. He had a muscular build an Olympian athlete would envy. Thwart was not older than twenty, a strong virile animal of a man.

My fascinated gazing into the mirror amused Jadda. "Are you going to admire yourself all night?"

I pawed at my face and hair and didn't believe what I saw. The hard lithe lines of a man in his prime replaced Walker's soft middle-aged body, though not as muscle bound as the surly Kyle. The trade did not displease me. Not only did I once again have youth, I had the physique that went with it. That physique was grimy and splashed with blood.

Jadda pushed at me playfully, "Come on, you need a bath worse than I do."

With a last look in the mirror I allowed myself to be guided out of her tent. We went back through the perimeter to a spring lit by the light of the moons, very private, very quiet. I preceded her into the water and once immersed, she soaped my body. She spent long minutes working on me, washing my hair with scented oils, careful of the knot on my head; combing out my tangled hair. Afterwards I sat watching her from the edge of the pool while she bathed. Questions still crowded my mind, but like before I didn't want to spoil the moment asking them. At last she paddled over to where I sat, dangling my feet in the water. She floated between my knees, smiling with approval at the potent totem she discovered. Her hair touched my lap as she bent over the object of her desire. With a slurp she totally swallowed me again.

I knew exquisite pleasure. 

"I'm keeping my promise," she said in a muffled voice.

I think I said, "I love a woman who keeps her word."

"I love you too, Thwart." Jadda kept delighting me until I almost had a surprise for her. But I stopped her before the final critical seconds elapsed. 

"Let me finish you," she whispered. She tried to capture her elusive prey in her mouth.

I had decided to try a little experiment to further my role as Thwart. "Get your chains!" I commanded her.

"What?" she stammered.

I thrust a rough hand in her hair, "You heard me well enough, slave."

She scrambled from the spring with glee written across her face. The way her naked wet form moved, sensuous in the moons' light, increased my excitement. She crossed the grass and returned, links of chain jingling. Then she kneeled before me again, apparently eager to play the game of slave girl.

"Turn around," I ordered.

She did as she was told. Never had I chained a woman before, but almost immediately I cinched her wrists tightly together behind her, the cuffs nearly touching. I attached the chain from her manacles to her collar, shortening each chain several links. With arms bound and her head pulled back the line of Jadda's breasts heightened. Both of them quivered in anticipation of what lay in store. I touched her erect nipples. I touched her elsewhere. 

Securing a slave girl's arms behind her curbs all resistance, every one of her secrets are depths to be plumbed. Jadda breathed heavily, beckoned me with her tongue, again with glazed eyes. 

Urging her to her knees I used her like an owner uses the mouth of a chained and helpless slave girl. She choked on my enthusiasm, striving to accommodate my uninhibited exertions. Only when the situation concluded to my satisfaction did I release her. A sticky string connected her lips and me, glistening like a strand of spider web. I put her on her stomach to plumb other depths when a familiar voice came from among the trees.

Namtor: "Are you two all right?"

"What does it look like to you?" I said. 

Apprising himself of the circumstances he grinned and leaned against his cleaver. "You have my apologies, but Portor said you found mutants."

I wrapped my loincloth about me, "They won't be bothering anybody."

"You killed them?" asked Namtor.

"Of course, they attacked us." 

Jadda remained on her stomach, her bottom in the air. She looked very vulnerable. 

"No one heard a thing," Namtor said. 

"It was over rather quickly."

A snort of laughter from Namtor: "Rather quickly?"

"Indeed. They're on the side of the trail over there."

"You saw no others?"

"Just the four I killed."

"Four?"

"They interrupted Jadda and me earlier. I am becoming accustomed to such interruptions."

"I appreciate your jest, but I have already apologized," he chuckled.

Hoping he would leave us to investigate, he remained where he stood, much to my chagrin.

"I have a message to deliver. The Sheikh requests the pleasure of your company."

Jadda complained, "I feared as much."

I buckled on my swordbelt, not overjoyed either. I said, "You heard him, slave girl. On your feet. We have an audience with the master."

In her position the little slut needed help. I dragged her to her feet by her chains. She marched naked between Namtor and me, walking proudly, with purpose, like an aroused woman hurrying to her fate. Thinking about what the Sheikh had planned for Jadda in his tent made my blood boil.

We passed through the watch line again and arrived back in the clearing where the Sheikh and his entourage made camp. Dromendaries, horses and pack animals huddled at one end, campfires burned, men and women went quietly about their business. The men looked like conquerors, the women looked conquered. I smelt leather and sweat, fire, animals. I counted four large tents towering over smaller ones pitched around them, perhaps two dozen in all. We passed one of the four palisades, lit from within by tapers and lanterns. I saw the shadows of two men with a squirming girl between them. When we heard their groaning Jadda rubbed a breast against my arm. Outside another tent a maiden had her blonde head buried in a man's lap. I could not see her face, but I heard what she was doing. 


The Phantom Pilot



Maybe those two girls were Jadda's tent-mates? 

She moaned beside me, so softly I doubt Namtor discerned the sound. 

I thought we'd never get to the Sheikh's tent!

He occupied one of the silk palaces as befit his station. 

By the time we arrived I had to adjust my loincloth before entering. I noticed my friend Namtor smoothing the front of his trousers as well. The interior of the Sheikh's tent shown brightly from the light of many candles and oil lamps. The barbaric candlelight revealed Jadda better than did the moons' light. Every nuance of her loveliness became visible: her shoulder blades, belly button, the tattoo on one of her ankles. She got down on her knees before the Sheikh, head to the floor of the tent, her bottom in the air. 

I could see how excited she was. 

I wanted her badly.

By the look on the Sheikh's face, so did he, but other evidence was to the contrary. Naked except for the ghutra on his head, the Sheikh sat on a stack of cushions, trimmer and more fit than I thought he'd be. The length and width of his limp organ evidenced nothing to be embarrassed about, except its very limpness in the presence of such an exquisite female creature.

"I want her hands undone," he said to me. His eyes never left his slave girl as he spoke. "Unchain her."

The enameled wrist manacles fell to the floor of the tent. Jadda's position changed only when her palms pressed the ground in front of her instead of behind. The Sheikh lifted her head up with his switch under her chin. My eyes would not leave the glistening opening between her thighs.

"I'm particularly glad to see you, Jadda," the Sheikh said.

"I am flattered, master."

"You look delicious, my dear," he said through pursed lips.

"Thank you, sir."

Their damned game again!

"Take me in your hands, girl."

She gripped him with both fists, "Master is very large."

True, but soft and flaccid, I thought.

"Rouse me with your mouth."

As she bent forward to obey I struggled against my instinct to prevent her. I held myself in check as her head began moving rhythmically up and down. The Sheikh asked me about the mutants and I relayed the details. The sight of Jadda noisily worshipping him, in the same fashion as she'd done me twice before, in front of all of us while the Sheikh casually carried on an unrelated conversation stimulated me. But apparently not the Sheikh! When Jadda finally looked up from her endeavor she grasped him in her fist, as limp as before. Scowling, he shoved her away from him with his foot. In that instant I saw what made this man cruel.

Jadda sprawled on the floor of the tent, not meeting anyone's eyes.

I wanted to interfere, but stood frozen and kept my own counsel.

"Be seated, Namtor," the Sheikh commanded, "and hold the girl."

Again I fought my emotions and stood motionless. 

The big black man grinned hugely, seating himself on a mound of silks and pillows. He undid the front of his striped trousers in order to be more comfortable. The problem afflicting the Sheikh did not ail Namtor. He pulled Jadda's head into his lap by her long dark hair. She did not resist. Her tongue darted like a snake's.

I felt tortured, but moved not a muscle. The Sheikh had more torment in mind for me.

He held out his leather switch, "I want you to give her fat ass ten lashes."

I looked at the switch, but did not take it. "But . . ."

The Sheikh said, "You do it, or I'll do it."

Still I hesitated.

"I'll whip her a lot harder than you will," he assured me.

Namtor said to me, "He speaks the truth, man, do the girl a favor." She was certainly doing him one and, as such, could not speak for herself at the moment.

I took the leather switch.

"Don't be lenient," the Sheikh cautioned me, "I want to see a welt with every stroke. Or it goes over. And over. Until there's a nice red stripe."

Namtor pulled out of Jadda's mouth, "Just kiss it while you're getting the whip, baby. Get your behind up." His big hands parted her buttocks while he repositioned her. The button of muscle above her gaping mouth spread wide in such a compromised posture. Streaks of wetness gleamed on her inner thighs.

"If you don't strike her hard enough you might end up delivering thirty or forty lashes," the Sheikh advised. "Administer enough force the first time every time and spare her pain."

Jadda gave me that glazed-eyed look, Namtor's endowment shone with her saliva. "Hurt me, baby," she said. "Please."

The switch trembled in my hand like my sword had when I'd threatened the Sheikh. I lashed out in a sudden rage. When leather met flesh it cracked like a pistol shot. I was surprised I'd struck Jadda so hard, I think the others in the tent were too, Jadda more than anyone. She caught her breath at the unexpected smart. A fresh red line gleamed on both cheeks.

"Excellent," commended the Sheikh.

I whipped her again. And again. She cried out, but I did not stop. Her flesh undulated under the lash. After ten strokes Jadda sagged, gasping, no tears in her eyes; only a wicked glow. She clenched and unclenched her buttocks. Namtor wiggled himself in front of her face, but his ardor went temporarily ignored. Welts crisscrossed both cheeks of the girl's bottom, her skin fiery red. Now the smell of her filled the tent, as pungent as the oil in the lamps and the wax of the tapers.

The Sheikh took the switch from me. "A fine job, Thwart."

The whipped girl quivered with arousal.

"Jadda, you will mount Namtor now," the Sheikh said, "and use him to pleasure yourself."

"Yes, master." She crouched over Namtor, inserted him, and sat. When his great length disappeared inside her she groaned loudly. He lay on his back and remained still. Leaning forward with her hands on his chest she ground her hips into his, rotating against him. I watched the play of muscles in her back as she arched and moved. A minute later she bounced up and down frenziedly. She mewled urgently and little cries escaped her throat. Her body made wet sounds. She'd spent all evening pleasing others, now she pleased herself. Judging from the excessive leakage, Namtor obviously had been pleased once or twice himself.

My heart pounded.

Jadda savored her pleasure greedily, finally collapsing, shuddering, still impaled. The fleshy socket between her cheeks drew my attention, and that of the Sheikh. 

He glanced down at his limpness. My loincloth stretched before me.

"You want her, don't you?" he asked.

My mouth was dry, "Yes."

"Use her," he said.

"She looks fairly used up," I remarked.

"Jadda is a long way from being used up," he said. "There is not yet light in the sky, the night has only just begun."

Namtor started thrusting gently into her. She moaned.

"Use her," the Sheikh said again.

"It would seem she is in use."

The end of the switch touched an alternative, the vulnerable little circle of muscle nestled in the valley created by her cheeks. "That is not in use."

I licked at my lips, my desire almost painful.

Seeing my reluctance, the Sheikh spoke to Jadda: "Tell Thwart to violate you."

Namtor pumped like a machine, the moons of her bottom jiggling with the motion. She said, like a little girl, "Use me, Thwart."

"Do you want me to?" I asked. Already I began removing my loincloth.

"Hurry, I want you," wheedled Jadda. "Please don't make me beg."

The Sheikh propelled me forward with a push to the shoulder. Holding Jadda still, Namtor stopped moving long enough to allow me to get in place. Spreading her cheeks wider I touched against her entryway, pressed until I'd breached the muscle. Slowly I slid into her warm tightness until embedded fully. A guttural sound issued from her every penetrating millimeter of the way. Namtor began to move again. I had never done that before, never took a woman there, never felt another man moving inside the same woman I was making love to. Jadda humped against Namtor and me, exhorting us to perform harder, faster. We obliged her. She breath grew ragged, then she screamed in joy, though had I not known better, would have sworn was bloody murder.

Eventually that lovesome triangle came to a logical conclusion, but the Sheikh recommended many other combinations. These variations took place far into the night. At long last the girl worked herself into exhaustion, as did Namtor and myself. He and I later went outside to talk after the Sheikh commanded Jadda to give each square inch of his body a tongue bath. Her mouth lingered in some areas much longer than in others; and the choices were his, not hers.

I felt nauseated.

Namtor held the tent flap for me and let it fall closed behind us. Even so I still heard the grunts of the Sheikh while his slave girl licked the intimate spots of his person. I tried to ignore it and devote my attention to what Namtor was saying.

"Nice and cool out here. It sure gets hot inside those tents, doing what we were doing."

I looked into the night sky, listened to the insects. Never in my life had I experienced such a conflict of feelings.

"Are you angry with me, Thwart, for following the Sheikh's orders?" 

I remarked obliquely, "There are many slave girls in the camp."

"This is the Sheikh's camp," replied Namtor matter-of-factly.

I ventured away from the tent and the sounds within.

Namtor followed me. "A slaver is going to make use of his possessions in the way he sees fit. It really means nothing."

I shrugged in agreement. "There is an abundance of slaves here."

"And you and I helped capture many of them. Even Jadda."

I nodded like I knew exactly what he meant. That didn't fool Namtor. 

"Thwart, are you still having trouble remembering?"

"Yes, I'm disoriented and confused."

"You looked like you were going to chop the Sheikh's head off when he told Jadda to service him. Then me."

"Did I?"

He eyed me in the darkness. "You know you did. That's not like you. Have you forgotten slave girls aren't exclusive?"

"Maybe you can help me to remember."

"Let's go down to the spring and get washed up. We can talk there." He looked at my sword with uncertainty, "I see you brought your blade with you."

I held it up in the moons' light. 

"I left my things in the tent, you got dressed. Since when did modesty run in your family?" His comment caused me to smile. When he realized there was no danger of me running him through he joked with me like an old friend. "Anyway one sword should be enough if any more mutants are on the prowl. They don't travel in packs like the Askaar. We're not likely to run into many of them at night." 

"There were four of those mutants," I reminded him. 

"So you said, but that's not typical of them, they usually wander around mindlessly by themselves. Askaar like to have strength in numbers. You and I can handle a couple of Askaar if they get any ideas about waylaying us." 

"Are you not going to arm yourself and dress?" I asked, not deigning to look on his nakedness.

"I'm not afraid and modesty don't run in my family. Remember?"

I smiled again. "Tell me about the Askaar?"

"They're different tribes of brigands. They plunder the plunderers." 

"Who are the plunderers?"

Namtor grinned, "We are."

We proceeded through the camp, past the perimeter guards and into the foliage. Despite Namtor's bravado I noticed he warily surveyed his side of the trail; I kept an eye on mine. Both of us whirled upon hearing something scurry away through the underbrush. We had come upon the disheveled remains of the four mutants I had slain. They appeared a lot bloodier than when I'd gotten through with them.

"Looks like we interrupted something's dinner. These bodies have attracted scavengers, " said Namtor.

"You think our approach scared it away?"

"Seems likely. I'm glad we didn't run into lions or wolves."

"Want to go back and get your sword?"

"Nah, a few jackals don't worry me."

We skirted the bodies and continued on our way. When we reached the spring I started to disrobe and dive straight in. I wanted another bath too. 

Namtor stopped me. "Don't get invincible on me, man. You walk that way and I'll go this way and we'll meet on the other side."

I saw his wisdom; no need to invite an ambush from those who might lie in wait on the other side. We needed to scout around the entire pond before bathing. After we circled the pool and met on the other side Namtor waded right in, swam to the center. I saw only his head, heard a subdued splashing. Unsheathing my sword I thrust the point into the ground. I rid myself of the loincloth and entered the water, not straying far from the weapon. I'd angled it toward the water for quicker access if the need arose. At first I submerged myself, but after getting my long wet hair out of my eyes I floated with only my head above water. I watched the foliage. The cool swim refreshed me.

Namtor broke the shiny dark surface and emerged onto the bank, seating himself on the grass close to my sword. I joined him on the bank. Wiping away droplets clinging to my chest, arms and legs I donned the loincloth. 

Namtor chuckled and I said nothing. I retrieved my sword, but didn't sheathe it. I too sat down, facing Namtor so we could see anyone, or thing, sneaking up behind either of us. I recognized that as warrior behavior; it came naturally between us without anything being said. More of Thwart's inherent memory, I guessed. Flyboys don't act like that.

We sat silently listening to the wind rippling the leaves and tall grass, the song of the insects. Content that I heard nothing more than nature I asked: "Well, why don't you tell me about me? And you? And Jadda?"

"And the Sheikh?"

"Tell me everything."

He chewed idly on the thin stem of some plant. "And the past? Thwart's past?" 

"Yes."

"Remember the night we did the raid in Rishi-Kej?"

"Rishi-Kej?" I asked.

"We got ten girls that night," smiled Namtor.

"We did?"

"One of them was Jadda."

"I wish I remembered."

"The Sheikh raids from one market and sells into another. He is the most successful slave trader in the known world, the king of the plunderers."

"He is?"

"May I again draw your attention to all of that fine female flesh in the camp."

"How could I miss it? Is that all the Sheikh does, travel around looking for women to sell into slavery?"

"You're exactly right. That's his driving force. And me and you help him achieve his ends. It's a good life."

As an Earthman I wasn't so sure about that.

"The Sheikh does have a secondary mission," Namtor went on. "He's searching for a cure for his failed manhood."

"Does one exist?"

Namtor shrugged. "He's always seeking out apothecaries and medicine men in the kingdoms and cities. That's why we're in Askaar country. We been camped here two days. There's a witch doctor whose tribe is located to the south. We're trying to pinpoint its whereabouts. The Sheikh thought he'd take an Askaar captive and torture the location out of him. But that didn't work out. It almost got you killed, so we're moving on tomorrow."

"Why?"

"The witch doctor supposedly has a potency elixir. That's one reason we're here, that, and the Askaar sometimes have nice slaves in captivity. We're traveling with a hundred warriors, plus native guides and many wagons, for protection. Normally it would just be the Sheikh, me and you, Portor, Kyle and maybe one or two other mounted warriors. He's also brought some women along, not that we haven't captured a few on this trip already, but not enough to make it profitable. The Sheikh knows he can't make a long trek and expect his men to do without women. That's not his way. He may not be able to do anything about it himself, but he understands the need in others. His men. And his women."

I changed the subject: "What is Rishi-Kej?"

"It's a kingdom in one of the city-states."

"City-states?"

"There are two city-states. One is the jungle, where we are now. The other one is the desert. Me, I much prefer green trees and water over sand. But the Sheikh is a man of the desert. Obviously."

"Obviously. Where are the Silver Cities, the place where the Sheikh bought me?"

"They stand where the jungle and the desert meet, which you might recall comprises all the known world."

"I don't remember. And?"

"And one of the Silver Cities is on the jungle side and . . ."

". . . the other Silver City is on the desert side," I surmised.

"Correct. Very good! The two cities are really one big kingdom, the largest in the known world, although there are many kingdoms. The desert and jungle each have their seat of government in their respective city."

"You keep talking about 'the known world.' What lies beyond the deserts and the jungles?"

"The Fire. That's why it's so hot everywhere."

I thought about that for a minute, but had more important things to ask him about than superstition. "And the arena?"

"A while back the Sheikh saw you in the Ring on the jungle side of the Silver Cities and went to great lengths to procure you. He gave you your liberty in exchange for you signing on with him. It might interest you to know he paid twice the amount for you than even Jadda will bring from the highest bidder."

"He intends to sell Jadda?"

Namtor smiled broadly enough that I saw most of his teeth. He flicked the stem into the pond. "Eventually he sells them all, rotating his stock. I'm sure he'll sell Jadda sooner or later. For the time being he enjoys her too much. He also suspects you're love for her. He already knows Jadda loves you, but that matters little to him."

"Why?"

"Because he owns her," he explained. "You're a different story though."

"How so?"

"The Sheikh cannot afford conflict in his ranks. He knows you can cut his throat; which basically makes you uncontrollable. He can control Jadda. The men can make use of the camp girls anytime they please. Or most of them anyway."

I interrupted him: "But not Jadda?"

"Jadda is not a camp girl, my friend. As far as slave girls go they don't come much better than Jadda. She is a top tier prime piece of woman and, as such, is an exception. The Sheikh is not going to let the rank and file sully her. Oh, she gets put through her paces, as you know. She's like a fruit that is so perfectly ripened, sweet and bursting with juice. A young girl brimming with that much beauty turns brittle if she doesn't get enough loving. A woman like her, even a slave, holds a lot of power over a man, any man. Including her master. One of the Sheikh's uses for Jadda is to control you."

I thought about that. "Since I'm in love with her he knows I won't act against him?"

"That's as close to the truth as we're liable to be able to put into words." Namtor paused, then said, "But it seems to me you weren't as much in love with Jadda yesterday as you are today. Maybe that fall knocked some sense into that thick skull of yours."

I didn't smile. "What about Jadda and Thwart, I mean me, yesterday?"

He squinted oddly at me before speaking. "Yesterday she was just one of the Sheikh's favorite slaves he let you fuck. Now I don't know what you and her have been whispering in each other's ears in the middle of the night, but like I said before, dangerous men are difficult to control, especially a young man as impulsive as you. The Sheikh exploits the situation, it is no secret really. You know it, he knows it and Jadda knows it. If and when he learns you've fallen totally in love with one of his slaves, he'll own you as much as he owns her."

"But he lets you . . ." I hesitated.

"Fuck her too? Well, that's because me and you are privileged. Not just any man in the camp can frolic with the Sheikh's favorites."

"Why is that?"

"Because we're two of his top hands, me and you."

"Do you love her too?"

He looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Me? Love a slave? Sluts are a luxury for me, nothing more. Jadda's a beautiful woman, but the Sheikh has a dozen more girls as prime as Jadda. You should know, you've dallied with all of them, although Jadda spends more nights in your tent than any other. You don't remember Kalli, or Danae?"