The Paga Diaries (12) by Arizona Wanderer: ‘Solo Tarn Ride’

 

After my morning with Penny, I wandered a bit, further out, in a part of the city that was new to me.  I had lunch in a new tavern.  I saw another passage of army units pass through the streets, apparently heading for a city wall gate and one of the camps outside.  The banners, shields, spears, helmets and uniforms all looked brand new to me.  My impression was that these units were freshly mobilized and being sent to the front.  The front was further and further out, approaching Corcyrus closer every day.  The war was a popular topic in the taverns and even though I could still only understand bits and pieces of an eavesdropped conversation, it was expected that the conflict would be over very soon.  Many men in the tavern seemed to get excited about maybe being able to afford purchasing a Free Woman of Corcyrus, sent to Argentum as a cheap captive slave.  

 

I had no idea how much slaves cost and I certainly hadn’t been looking at slave markets to see if prices were actually getting cheaper.  I knew that if I lingered too long at a market, I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of buying my own kajira.  Someone like Lina or Penny.  I was still enjoying the use of paga sluts.  Someday I would be ready to take on the responsibility of caring for, and keeping a woman secure in my bonds.  I was still too new on Gor to think that I could manage that type of relationship.  The master/slave relationship requires a lot of time, if done right.  There are many considerations.  Feeding, clothing (maybe not clothing), bathing, sheltering, training and discipline all require time and I looked forward to those things, but they would be a distraction for me now. 

 

I was going to ride a tarn today!  Purchasing a slave was going to have to wait. I knocked on Trem’s door late in the afternoon and he let me into his apartment.  I gave him the two silver tarsk coins that I had said I would loan him.  He thanked me.  I could tell he was uncomfortable with the loan and so I asked, “Today is good to ride tarn?”

 

“Yes, let’s go to the tarn cot,” he said.

 

On the long walk up the central stairway to the tarn cot, he reminded me of some essential basics.  We went over the use of the tarn goad, showing no fear, the importance of saddle safety straps, and the six control straps, or reins for directing flight.  Trem banged hard on the large wooden door, and, as before, it opened after someone had opened the slit and looked at us.  The strong almost overwhelming smell came through the open door.  We walked inside and each grabbed a tarn goad from the wall, then touched the tip to the scorched piece of test wood.  Brilliant bright flashes erupted from this contact, so our goads were good.

 

There were three tarns already saddled and waiting on the flight deck that jutted out from the tarn cot.  Two of them had greenish brown feathers and the third was brown.  The three of them looked at us, and I became apprehensive, even though I had been here before.  Tarns are magnificent, intimidating, noble creatures that demand respect.  Their eyes are wild and fierce, but also intelligent.  I clutched my tarn goad tightly. 

 

“Rykart, after we are strapped into our saddles, I will launch my tarn into flight and you will follow immediately.  Then I will begin flying in basic turns which you will duplicate by pulling on the straps. You will be guiding the tarn and following me.  Do you understand?” he said.

 

“Yes, I understand.”  I was very nervous now and doing my best to present confidence.  Trem climbed up the small five rung steps on the rope ladder that was attached to the saddle.  He motioned me to do the same with the tarn next to his, and then began to attach his two safety straps.

 

I walked towards the enormous bird and as I was going to the first rung of the mounting ladder, the tarn lowered its head, moving it towards me.  I almost backed away from the piercing gaze of its eyes and approaching beak, before remembering the goad.  I brought it up quickly and pointed it at the sharp curved beak which had opened up while it was coming at me.  The tarn’s head stopped just short of the goad and then raised up before crying out in a terrible shriek, that sent shivers down my spine.

 

“Rykart, climb the ladder, now!” Trem yelled.  I immediately started to go up the ladder and I was in the saddle in two ihn.  I found the safety straps and attached them to my belt.  I was a little astonished that I had made it.  I then pulled up the mounting ladder, rolled it up, and secured it.  “Grab the control straps!” Trem yelled again.  I grabbed them.

 

“Are you ready?” he asked, with a big smile on his face. 

 

“Yes!” I said.  His tarn then launched itself into the air with large powerful swoops of its great wings.  I pulled on the one-strap and my tarn also launched itself into the air with its own mighty wings.  My heart was racing as my body felt the power of lift and acceleration, riding on the back of this majestic bird.

 

Trem flew his tarn straight and level for a bit, over the city.  I was still trying to absorb the reality that I was on a tarn, flying on my own.  I was very nervous about how this flight was going to go and if I would really be able to control the tarn.  

 

Trem banked left and down.  I pulled on the five-strap and also banked left, following him down.  Then he banked right and down.  I pulled on the three-strap, following him.  He levelled off and began to ascend, I pulled on the one-strap and my tarn ascended too.  Trem kept climbing and climbing for many ehn until we reached a great altitude and I could see for over a hundred pasangs in every direction. 

 

We continued at this altitude in a southeast direction or, in Gorean, Tun.  I could see a large river in the distance, the Issus.  And further out a very large lake: Lake Ias, as I learned later from Trem.  The lake was 70 pasangs away, as the tarn flies.  If we kept on this course, we would get to Corcyrus, 450 pasangs away.  It was hard for me to judge our cruising speed, especially at this height.  The wind passing by my face was forceful but not overwhelming.  It helped for me to crouch down a bit in the saddle so as to minimize the surface area of my body to the oncoming airstream.  I was getting a chill, and was wishing I had something warm to wear over my tunic.  Even a scarf would make a difference.  For a moment, an image came to my mind of a scarf wrapped around my neck, tails flapping behind me in the wind, like I was a pilot of a Sopwith Camel, the single-seat biplane fighter from World War I. 

 

We kept flying towards the lake in the distance and I was really enjoying the view. The area around the city was primarily grasslands, mostly flat with some patches of trees sprinkled about in places.  There were occasional hills, but none of them significant.  Flying was exhilarating!  I have never felt so free as on tarnback, able to go in any direction I desired.  I know knew that becoming a skilled tarnsman would be my main focus in life, even if I had to purchase my own tarn. 

 

I was enjoying the thrill of flying and the amazing view a little too much.  I looked in front of me and Trem wasn’t there!  In a panic, I looked all around for him and noticed that he was descending.  I pulled the four-strap to follow and hopefully catch up.  I pulled the strap a little hard and my tarn went into a steep descent, almost a dive.  This made me very anxious and I pulled on the one-strap.  The tarn reacted immediately and pulled up, my body bounced out of the saddle seat briefly, the safety straps keeping me from getting tossed out.  My heart was racing and I felt like I had lost control.  

Trem was still descending and I attempted another descent in order to stay close to him and not get too far behind.  Trem continued down almost to the ground.  He now had some sort of strap hanging below his tarn.  The strap had a loop.  I noticed his tarn was rapidly approaching a small herd of animals that looked like deer.  He swooped over the herd, which seemed oblivious to his rapid approach.  

 

The hanging loop strap went into the herd and his tarn pulled up.  One animal from the herd had gotten snared by the strap, the loop having closed about its neck.  Up it went, swinging below the rising tarn.  I was astonished!  Trem had captured an animal using a tarn. 

 

Trem began a gradual ascent and I had regained my composure, overcoming the fear of having lost control over my tarn.  I realized I had never lost control; the tarn had responded well to all of my strap pulling commands.  I just needed to learn how much pressure to apply to them and get used to sitting in the saddle and not panicking if I were to get bounced around.   Trem took us back to the city and our tarn cot. 

 

I followed him on his tarn right down to the flight deck that jutted out slightly from the tarn cot on top of the cylindrical tower.  I was nervous about the landing.  The tarn spread its great wings wide, the feathers on the wingtips flaring up as we came down to the deck.  Our speed slowed down and the tarn’s powerful legs absorbed any shock of the landing.  The landing was soft!

 

We unsaddled the tarns after landing, one at a time, working together.  Trem showed me the process, which included having a tarn goad at the ready.  It was quite the process but the large birds were calm as we loosened straps and harnesses.  It seemed like they welcomed the removal of this gear from their bodies.  We then guided them into a large cage.   

 

The animal that Trem had caught with the loop was a tabuk.  It looked like an antelope but only had one horn.  The loop had strangled the tabuk after it had been lifted off the ground.  As a wanderer, I had done my fair share of hunting in the American West, using both rifle and bow.  The hardest work in hunting comes after the kill, with the handling of the meat.  I was very experienced with dressing out game and preparing the meat for storage or transport. 

 

Trem produced a skinning knife and began to remove the tabuk’s hide.  I began to help him, as it is much easier to perform this task with assistance, positioning, adjusting and holding the animal in place.  Trem was very quick, efficient and methodical with his cuts.  I could tell that he was very experienced.   He next removed the back straps or tenderloins by cutting them from the back and spine of the tabuk.  He wrapped these prime cuts in a thin sheet like material.  This is normally the best, most tender meat on animals like this.

 

He had a big smile on his face and said, “Let’s take this meat to the Feasting Tarn and have them cook it for us!”

 

“Yes!” I asked. “The other meat?”

 

“We feed the rest to the tarns.”

 

I helped him separate the tabuk into quarters.  He then took the pieces to the cage with the tarns.  One of them shrieked, a piercing cry that was very unsettling.  The large barred door of the cage had a smaller door with separate hinges, enabling it to swing out and open.  Trem was ready to throw the quarter pieces into the cage through this opening.

 

“You don’t want to watch this,” he said.  But I did.  I wanted to learn everything about tarns.

 

“I watch,” I said.  Trem shrugged his shoulders.  He threw the large chunks of tabuk through the opening of the smaller door.  The tarns immediately pounced on them.  With their talons, they held the large pieces down while ripping at the flesh with their razor sharp pointed beaks.  They devoured the meat, eating as fast as they could.  It was hard to watch this grisly spectacle.  All the meat was stripped from the bones in just a few ehn.  I would never want a tarn to consider me as food.  

 

As we walked to the Feasting Tarn, I asked Trem if he played kaissa.

 

“You know kaissa?” he asked.

 

“Not much, I want to learn,” I said.

 

“Good, we will go to the second floor, the kaissa hall.”

 

We got to the second floor of the Feasting Tarn, the kaissa hall, after climbing up the grand central staircase.  Trem took the tabuk meat, wrapped in the sheet, to a paga attendant and they talked about cooking.  Trem had asked me earlier, on the way down from the tarncot, how I liked my tabuk.  I told them that I had liked it every way that I had had it so far.  I also told him that I thought that this prime cut would be best cooked rare.  He agreed.

I wondered about vegetarians on Gor.  Every place I had eaten, in various taverns and street vendors, there always seemed to be meat available, and so many different types of meat, from numerous different animals.  Maybe this great variety of meat was due to the availability of choices from being in a large city like Argentum.   I doubted that there were many vegetarians.  I had a feeling that a vegetarian lifestyle was probably a very alien concept on Gor.  I wondered how many Earth women vegetarians, transported here as slaves, struggled with being forced to eat meat, along with fresh brands, collars, and the training whip.  I wondered how many of them grew to crave and love eating meat, after having countless meals of slave gruel.

 

We looked around for a table.  I noticed Arlonis, the man whom had given me kaissa lessons the last time I was here.  He was at a table by himself, and there were a couple other kaissa tables around him that were unoccupied.  I motioned for Trem to go towards him.  When we got close, he said, ”Tal Trem.  And Tal, Rykart, is it?”

 

“Yes, Tal Arlonis,” I said.

 

“More lessons for paga?” he asked me.

 

“Ha! I don’t need a lesson,” Trem said as he sat down at Arlonis’s table, across from him.  I sat next to them, ready for more kaissa tutoring and my turn to play.