Ubara of Gor Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen: The Free Companions

“Don’t touch your brand,” I said as I saw Mina doing that thing slave girls always do in the first couple of days of their slavery – examining with dismay the brand that has been freshly seared into their flesh. Mina jumped slightly for she hadn’t heard me sneak up on her behind the rocks. She had thought she had a moment of privacy, but really there was nowhere to run to of course for the rocks were part of the towering cliffs that had trapped us on the beach during the Cosian attack. There was no way to climb the cliff at this point along the headland and swimming in the sea would get her nowhere for the cliffs continued along the shoreline for several pasangs. But even so, I didn’t want Mina to sneak off on her own. She might try and do something stupid.

Ubara of Gor Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: The Secret History

“Matias, beloved!” cried the Lady Saffia in anguish as she ran on soft bare feet across the shingle towards the Cosian admiral who in his defeat was preparing to surrender his sword to Brinn. Lady Saffia got perhaps halfway across the beach in her tear stained desire to reach the loving arms of her Free Companion before she was pulled up short by an Askari who seized her left arm. She stood there crying, unable to join her beloved for one last embrace.

Ubara of Gor Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: The Last Enchantment

Several years ago my son, Marik, asked me a question.

“Mama, what is a shield wall like?”

He was dressed in his cute red tunic – the scarlet of the warriors – and he had paused in his favourite game which consisted of him running around the garden with a toy wooden sword and shield and a helmet several sizes too big for him, cutting and chopping at imaginary foes while his sister pretended to be a prisoner resigned to being tied to a tree and needing saving. The sanguine and dignified expression on her face contrasted with the wild enthusiasm on Marik’s face as he pretended to cut down numerous warriors of Cos.

Ubara of Gor Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Les Passagers du vent

I would like to say that storm clouds gathered ominously overhead as we made our final approach to the Bastion, but in actual fact it was just another hot equatorial day with no significant omens or portents of the days to come. Grigor may have been surprised to see a Port Kar ram ship accompanying the Larl, or perhaps he was just past the point of caring now.

Lady Donna's proposed index for Chloe's art (comments invited)

Chloe’s Drawings Anthology

This is the first attempt at giving a list of the drawings that Chloe, first girl on the estate of Brinn of the Sardar has produced in support of the stories written by Emma.

Alternative covers to recent Gor novels

I came across these recently. Someone has obviously taken it upon themselves to create alternative covers to the more recent crop of Gor novels from Witness onwards, continuing the style of the American DAW books of the late seventies through to the late eighties. None of them are official releases, and I doubt there are even any print copies with these covers, but I like them and thought I'd put them on display here.

Ubara of Gor Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: Terminal Beach

Brinn met us on the beach where we stood in a line formation by the sand dunes in the misty drizzle. Yishana's standard of a snarling female larl stood next to a white flag signifying parlay. She wore a long gown but remained unveiled as was her usual style. Beside her stood Tijani, Kerim Shah and Simon, with the Askaris lining out to her left and right. The girls from the Larl knelt in a separate line at a right angle to her right flank with the exception of Naomi and myself who knelt either side of Yishana. The most prominent position though was reserved for Cassandra. Yishana had built a raised platform three steps high on which Cassandra stood. She was dressed in the tattered gowns that she had been permitted to keep but her face was as unveiled as Yishana’s. Her hands were secured before her body in slave bracelets, and a chain from the bracelets ran to an iron ring set at the base of the platform. She stood proud, her hair blowing in the chill salt wind as Brinn marched his men from the cove sheltering the Waverider. At a distance of twenty yards he signalled for his grim spearmen to line up facing us. They all wore scarlet tunics, carried heavy shields, wore steel helmets and carried spears. For a while the two ranks faced one another before Brinn passed his crested war helm to one of his men and marched forward to confront us.