Barbarian of Gor Chapter Fourteen

 

The night was silent, save for the occasional rustling sound in the trees and bushes as nocturnal animals prowled and searched for food. Up in the sky, the three bright moons of Gor shone down on the land offering a little illumination to my night vision. The stars were distinct tonight, unaffected by the pollution of city street lighting. The steady hum of crickets and other insects added a certain ambience as I sat with my back to a tree and simply stared out into the vast distance surrounding our small encampment.

 

It was our third night away from the Inn, and without wishing to tempt fate we were beginning to feel very optimistic about our chances now. In just one more day we would be inside the sphere of influence of Torcadino. Stannis’s patrols, if they were even out there looking for us, had failed to locate our trail.

 

I chewed on a piece of cured meat and considered the welcome possibility that Miss Sally Reeve had failed to locate any of Stannis’s riders. She was a lone woman on foot in outlaw country, after all. Anything might have happened to her. She had set out to locate a column of refugees, but could just as likely have run into outlaws. Even now she might be walking behind them, her wrists braceleted behind her back, the peasant garments stripped from her body, and a leash tied about her throat. By now she may even have found herself in the travelling camp of a slaver, for such men follow the paths of marching armies, ready to do business with the victorious forces. Travelling slaver camps are set up to process, enslave, and brand women in quick succession. Sally might even now have a kef branded on her left thigh. 

 

In many ways that would be a shame for I had hoped to come across her again and see to that detail myself. 

 

In the darkness I head a light jingle of chain.

 

Nearby was another tree, and in the trunk of that tree an iron spike had been firmly hammered to a depth of five inches. The flat end of the spike terminated in an iron ring welded in place. A loop of capture chain was padlocked to that ring at one end, and locked to a collar ring at the other. 

 

The collar ring is a standard feature of every slave collar, and this particular collar was locked around the neck of Laetitia, who now answered to the name of Kayra.

 

She had of course protested against being chained, that first night we spent away from the Inn.

 

“What are you doing?” she had asked as Adamus hammered an iron spike into a tree trunk.

 

“Preparing your sleeping arrangements, Kayra,” he replied.

 

“I don’t understand.” The girl watched as Adamus fastened a length of capture chain to the ring at the blue end of the spike. He began to unravel the chain to its full length of twenty feet.

 

“Slaves are commonly secured for the night,” he explained. “Raise your chin, Kayra.” 

 

“You mean to chain me?” 

 

“From now on, yes, until we reach the security of lands claimed by Torcadino. This is outlaw territory. When outlaws attack a camp they engage the fighting men just long enough for another of their number to swiftly seize the camp slaves. You would be carried away while we were fighting for our lives. A slave who is chained to a tree cannot be carried away, and she can’t be freed from the chain until the camp’s fighting men are dead.”

 

I wasn’t particularly happy with the idea of chaining Laetitia at night, but I understood the rationale. As security goes, what Adamus said was right. But even so, no good would come of Laetitia being chained. I had a bad feeling where this might lead. 

 

“No. I will not permit this,” she said. “It is out of the question.”

 

Felix looked concerned, as did I. Surely Adamus was not going to override her wishes on a matter like this? 

 

“Before I left Corcyrus, I had a final audience with your mother,” said Adamus. “We drank a cup of very good wine together and we discussed many possibilities. You may be surprised to learn that disguising you as a slave was one of them. I have your mother’s blessing in this and other things.”

 

“No. My mother would never agree that I be chained like a slave. Never.”

 

“I think you know better than that, Kayra. I am to get you to Torcadino, and I have considerable latitude in how I do that.” 

 

“Do you have some evidence?” said the young girl. “Authorisation? In writing? Do you?” She folded her arms in defiance. 

 

Adamus smiled. “I am not likely to carry documents from the Tatrix of Corcyrus while I pose as a peasant refugee. That would be foolish. We travel in secret.”

 

Laetitia looked Adamus in the eyes. “I don’t believe you. I’m sorry, Captain, but I do not believe you. My mother said nothing of this to me.”

 

“I’m sure she didn’t. Raise your chin, Kayra. I won’t ask again.”

 

“Or what?” the girl stared at him. “I suppose you expect me to believe my mother said you could lay hands on me?”

 

“She said if necessary I was permitted to put you over my knee and spank you.”

 

All colour seemed to drain from Laetitia’s face. “That… that is ridiculous.”

 

“Do I need to spank you, Kayra? I can do so with the flat of my hand or the leather of my belt? Both will be educational.”

 

She raised her chin. There was a metallic click as the chain was locked in place to the collar ring. Tears welled in Laetitia’s eyes but she valiantly fought them back.

 

“Here is a blanket for you. Make yourself comfortable.”

 

And so she did. To her credit she didn’t whine or protest. She had been chained by a man who claimed he could spank her.

 

That was two nights ago. This was our third night away from the Inn. The third consecutive night that Laetitia had worn a collar chain. 

 

I sat with my back to a tree trunk for I was on guard watch during these particular hours. Close by I heard the jingle of light chain again. Laetitia was moving, either in her sleep or half awake.

 

“Roland.” Her voice was quiet. 

 

“Go to sleep, Kayra.”

 

“I can’t sleep.” She moved slightly, and the chain slithered an inch or two through the grass. 

 

“You can if you try.”    

 

“Will you talk to me for a while? Please?”

 

“I’m on watch, Kayra. I can’t be distracted.”

 

There was another soft slither of chain. And then the faint sound of the girl crying.

 

“What is wrong?” She lay perhaps six feet away from me in the darkness. This was a lot for her to endure, and she was only human.

 

“Will we reach Torcadino tomorrow?”

 

“Not the city itself, but Adamus reckons we will pass into its sphere of influence. We will no longer be travelling through wilderness. We will encounter outlying villages and small towns that lie under Torcadino’s protection. The roads may be patrolled. From then we will travel a direct road to the city. Go to sleep.”

 

“My brain… won’t go to sleep.” In the darkness I heard her fingers grasp the length of chain that was locked to her collar. “There are too many thoughts that I can’t switch off.”

 

“What sort of thoughts?” I almost hesitated to ask.

 

“Thoughts.” 

 

This wasn’t good. Laetitia was a natural red head. If slavers like Trakkar are to be believed, that meant she was genetically predisposed towards slavery. Red heads will tell you otherwise, of course. But the general, often unspoken, opinion is that red heads, more so than any other free woman, need to hold themselves to even stricter discipline than other free women to avoid their thoughts drifting towards the concept of submission. Laetitia wore a slave collar and was chained at night. Such things might affect any free woman, let alone a red head.

 

“You are a free woman,” I said. “You are frigid. Hold on to that thought. Take pride in your chastity.”

 

There was another muffled sob. She was the daughter of a Tatrix and she would soon be the Free Companion of a Ubar’s son. Sexual fulfilment was not something she could ever yearn for. She had red hair. She must always maintain discipline and self-control, even in the so-called bridal bed on the night of the companionship. She would be expected to take no pleasure from the coupling, and she would be expected to urge her companion to be quick with her in taking his pleasure. She would be expected to be inert, unresponsive, and simply dutiful. 

 

“It is just a chain,” I said.

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“The collar is just a metal band. Forget about it.”

 

“I try. I try so hard.” The soft metallic jingle suggested she clutched at the chain once again. Slaves do that. Natural slaves do that while they lie in their kennel pens at night. They run the chain links through their fingers, taking comfort from the fact that they are owned by men. Many slaves even kiss their chains in the darkness, while whispering the words ‘la kajira’ to themselves softly. 

 

“In a few days’ time you will meet your companion to be. All this will be a distant memory that will fade in time.”

 

“I will never love him,” she said.

 

“You don’t know that. Free Companions do fall in love.” I gazed out into the night, seeing no movement, sensing no movement of significance. All was quiet save for the occasional rustling of nocturnal animals on the hunt for prey. Felix would relieve me in just over an ahn, and then I too would struggle to get some much needed sleep, for the truth was I was sleeping badly too. I didn’t want to think about it, but I had been without sex now for many days, and the presence of a slave girl in the camp was distracting, to say the least. My instincts told me to put her to use, to enjoy myself, but of course that was impossible. This was the daughter of the Tatrix. Men do not necessarily have these urges when they are in the presence of free women who are swathed in robes and veils, with even their supple wrists concealed by gloves. But the exciting figure of a slave is another class of temptation altogether. I was restless knowing that Laetitia lay so close to me. Despite the darkness I could imagine her lying on her side in her torn rep cloth tunic, the collar locked about her throat, her fingers grasping the chain. I imagined her eyes rich with need. I imagined her silently oiling as she fought the many thoughts that would not allow her to sleep tonight. I imagined how rich and alive her body was now, ready to accept the touch of a man; to surrender to the touch of a man. 

 

No. This was my imagination running wild. She was none of those things. She was just a frightened young girl who needed reassurances that I couldn’t provide. 

 

I needed a slave, and I resolved to pay for the use of one as soon as we reached a village in the territory of Torcadino. Gor affects a man from Earth after a while. His masculinity awakens and he desires women to a greater degree than he ever did on Earth. Going without a woman soon becomes as difficult as going without a drink of water. This is a very sexual society. Men are constantly reminded of the pleasures they can have from a woman’s body. After a while, having deprived yourself of those pleasures, you can think of nothing else.  

 

“Roland…”

 

“Go to sleep, Kayra.”

 

“I need to perform a toilet. I am sorry.”

 

Oh great. “Did you not see to your toilet before you were chained for the night?”

 

“I… I didn’t. I am sorry.”

 

“Can you not hold yourself until morning?”

 

“I… do not think I can. This is embarrassing for me to say. Please do not make me… here… where I lie…”

 

I sighed. It had to be on my watch, didn’t it? “You will have to be quick.” I rose and took the key to her capture chain from my pouch. The key to her chain was held by whichever man stood watch. I knelt down beside her and reached out in the darkness with the palm of my right hand. I inadvertently touched her left thigh and heard her gasp. 

 

“Forgive me, Kayra. It is dark. I am trying to find your collar.”

 

“Your hand…” her voice seemed to quaver. I was more careful now, not daring to touch her body again for both our sakes. My mind screamed to me that she was a slave, chained and ready for use. I could have her. I could gag her if necessary. I felt myself becoming erect just by being near her in the darkness. I pushed those thoughts away and found the chain lock. In a couple of ihn I had removed the chain from her collar ring. “Come with me, Kayra. We will go down to the river so as not to disturb anyone.  

 

We had camped close to a fast flowing river as our source of water for the evening. The ground sloped gently towards the river, maybe twenty to thirty yards away through some light bush scrub and a few trees. I led Laetitia down the gentle slope, guiding her past some prickly thorn bushes. 

 

“Forgive me, Roland.”

 

“Just be quick.” My senses were still alert, but the only sound was that of animals in the far distance. We rounded the corner past some trees and I motioned for Laetitia to find a private place close to here I stood guard. She walked behind a bush and squatted down in the darkness, searching for soft leaves to use to clean herself afterwards. 

 

Here the night air was scented with exotic flowers. The sound of the river flowing past was peaceful. In my right hand I gripped a long, stout length of wood which was my only weapon ever since Miss Sally Reeve of Brighton had stolen my sword. 

 

“How are you doing?” I said, quietly after a minute or two.

 

“Give me some time, Roland.”

 

“I thought you were desperate to do your toilet?”

 

“I am. It is coming. Be gentle with me.”

 

For fuck’s sake. 

 

My mind drifted to images of the slaves I might find in the first village we came across. What was I in the mood for? A brunette? A blonde? Black hair? Red hair? As soon as I thought of red hair, I imagined Laetitia, and I imagined the surprised expression on her face as I thrust her back into the grass, parting her thighs as she gasped and struggled to resist; her protests becoming less strident with each passing moment. 

 

I forced the thought from my mind again. I just needed a slave. Any slave. I didn’t care. I just needed to feel myself inside of a woman. I needed a few ahn with a slave. Abstinence is not good for a man on Gor. 

 

Finally I head a soft peeing sound, of a light stream of water soaking the ground. It took her long enough. Another couple of minutes ticked by and I heard her wiping herself with some handfuls of leaves. It sounded like she was being thorough. But then, women usually are. I gazed out at the river. It was a shame we didn’t have a boat. We could make better time if we had one. 

 

Eventually, after what seemed forever, but was probably only five or six ehn, the slight, slender figure of Laetitia emerged from behind the bushes.

 

“All done?” I asked.

 

“Yes, thank you.” I could make out that her hands were smoothing her brief garment modestly about her hips. Well, as modestly as the tunic allowed. This was better. In the darkness I could only make out her shape, and there was less physical temptation to torment me. Yes, this was easier.

 

“We need to get back.”

 

“Will you chain me to the tree again?”

 

“Yes.” Of course I would. She was safer that way. She couldn’t be easily stolen by outlaws.

 

The girl moved towards me and stood motionless. “Will I see you again after you deliver me to Torcadino?”

 

“No, probably not. I will return to Corcyrus once you are companioned to the Ubar’s son. I doubt my path will ever take me back to Torcadino. I have a life and career now in Corcyrus.”

 

“I had a life in Corcyrus. I thought maybe…”

 

“Maybe what?”

 

“I would surely be permitted servants once I come to reside in the palace? You could be one of them? A guardian of sorts?”

 

“Your Companion will appoint guardians for you. You will have no say in them. They will be men he trusts. He may allow you to pick out slave handmaidens, but not men.”

 

“Oh. Perhaps you could visit Torcadino from time to time?”

 

“There is nothing for me in Torcadino. I know what you are thinking, but I would not be permitted to visit you. Your companion will lock you away in a gilded tower. You will have all the luxuries you desire, but you will not spend time with any man other than your companion.”

 

“I will never love him.”

 

“I want you to be happy, Kayra. I know you will do your duty for your city, regardless, but I would hope your companion is a good man and he will respect you.”

 

There was silence for a moment and then Laetitia reached out a hand to touch me lightly on my chest. “What if I do not want a man to simply respect me?” Her voice sounded nervous in the darkness. “What if I need more than that?”

 

“I… we should get back, Kayra.”

 

“I know what men say about women with red hair,” said Laetitia. “My mother has protected me from such things, but I have heard slaves talk when they didn’t know I was nearby. Is it true?”

 

“Is what true?”

 

“Am I genetically pre-disposed to the collar?” There she had said it, what she feared the most. The curse of the Fire Crotch.

 

“You shouldn’t listen to slave’s prattle. What do they know of true free women?”

 

“There was a red-haired slave who was popular with the palace guards. I once heard some of the guards speak of how hot she was in the furs.”

 

“All slaves are hot and needy, regardless of their hair colouring,” I said. “Do not trouble yourself with such things.”

 

“What is a fire crotch? What does the phrase mean?”

 

I grew very uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “Where did you hear the phrase?”

 

“Slaves. Slaves speaking together in the palace.”

 

“I will tell your mother to have them whipped.”

 

“Were they talking about me?”

 

“No, no Kayra, they weren’t. They would never dare.”

 

“They did not know I was nearby. They thought they were alone.”

 

“We should get back. I am still on watch for a further ahn.”

 

“Of course. I shouldn’t have taken so much of your time. Roland…”

 

“What, Kayra?”

 

“I sometimes dream of a life where things are different. Where I am not bound by duty. Where I am free to make my own choices. A life defined by love, not duty.”

 

“Kayra, please don’t…”

 

“I’m going to say it, because in a few days my life will be set. We may not talk again privately after tonight. In another life I would choose…”

 

And then she suddenly screamed. She had seen a blur of movement in the darkness behind me, and without warning she pushed me violently aside, just in time that a sharp sword missed my head by inches. I stumbled but had enough instinct to throw myself clear of a follow up blow.

 

I span round on the balls of my feet and saw an outlaw silhouetted in the dim light, his blade raised in what was unmistakeably a fighting stance. Trained, then, not some ragged amateur. He stamped forward quickly, cutting at my head again, but I moved just as quickly and parried the flat of the blade with the length of wood in my right hand. Laetitia, bless her, was screaming loud enough to wake the dead, or, as was her intention, Adamus and Felix. I just had to buy them enough time to find me. Gor has a lighter gravity than that on Earth, and Earth men often find they are typically stronger and faster than they had been on their home world. A common misconception is that makes them stronger than a native Gorean, which isn’t necessarily the case. If you didn’t work out hard back on Earth, the uplift to your strength isn’t enough to make you now equal a Gorean warrior or surpass him. It simply makes you better than you once were.  I had always been pretty fit, but not Marine corps fit. I hoped it was enough for this combat situation.

 

“Kayra, run!” I shouted. The girl ran a few steps but then infuriatingly turned on the balls of her feet and refused to leave me. She bent down to search for large rocks that she might throw at the man I was fighting. “Run!” I screamed again.

 

“Felix! Adamus!” I ducked and side stepped. My agility was good. The blade whistled past and there were another two close calls, but I was keeping myself alive. The man I was fighting knew how to handle a blade, and he only needed one direct hit to cut me up. My club weapon was blunt, but it too could deliver a knock out blow if I aimed it right. It could break bones and end the fight just as easily as a sharp blade might. The only drawback was that a sword would chop away at it over time. When I did parry, I tried to parry the flat of the blade, not the edge. I tried to remember the lessons I had been given by my sword brother, Rolfe. 

 

Focus, focus, focus.

 

I felt the comfortable rush of adrenalin through my body, as my vision narrowed to focus squarely on the sword that was trying to end my life. Everything else is irrelevant. There could be exotic dancing girls cavorting to one side but you wouldn’t see them. You just see the blade and the hand holding it. I think the man was surprised at how fast I was in Gor’s lighter gravity. I struck out with my own weapon and almost hit him with my first attempt. 

 

Almost.

 

I was aware of screaming from a woman. A flicker of attention and I saw Laetitia standing some distance away throwing rocks. Fucking run and hide, I screamed at her. The blade whistled at my torso and I turned it just in time with my stick. The advantage was his as my agility meant I was dancing back and to the side, oblivious of where I was going. I crashed through some thorn bushes, the adrenalin making me numb to the lacerations I would later feel across my arms and legs. Sweat ran down my forehead as I focussed on staying alive long enough for the professional warriors to join me and end this fight. 

 

Laetitia was calling my name. I ducked and missed being gutted by inches. This outlaw was good. Better than me with a blade, but not quite as fast. That was my only edge, and it was the only thing keeping me alive so far. I aimed my own fast strike and had it parried by the edge of the blade that expertly turned my stick away from my body, leaving me open  to a swift counter strike that would be aimed directly at my chest. I suddenly felt a stiffness in my weapon arm, and I realised with a shock that the edge of the blade had embedded itself in my thick wooden stick, and there would be no furious second strike at my undefended torso. The outlaw realised this the same time I did, and wrestled to free his weapon, but I wasn’t going to give him the chance. I kicked out with my right foot and hit him in his abdomen. Before he might recover I released the stick and suddenly piled into him, knocking him backwards. My right hand seized his weapon hand as my left moved to draw a long knife that hung from my belt. But the fury of my sudden charge knocked us both backwards in the darkness, over the edge of the river bank, and into the fast flowing river.

We struck the water and went under, still struggling. For a brief moment I lost sight and sound of our struggle, but then I kicked up alongside the outlaw and we both surfaced, gasping from the shock of the fall. We were tumbling, now, carried by the fast current of the river as we wrestled with one another. The outlaw had lost his blade somewhere in the fall, and was now seizing my knife hand, just as he attempted to draw his own knife. With all our hands fully occupied we had no way to prevent ourselves from being carried helplessly on by the river current. We thrashed about, snarled and tied our damn best to kill one another. 

 

Suddenly we went under again, or rather I did as the water carried us over a sharp outcrop. Again we surfaced, coughing and spluttering, our attention momentarily lost as we fought to prevent ourselves being dashed against rocks that jutted up at the base of the short waterfall. Once again the current carried us further downstream, only now the power of the river was growing fast. My body was pulled away from the outlaw and suddenly the fight was over as we both plummeted downstream a few feet from one another. I had the sense that the outlaw struck a rock, bounced violently from it, and then was swept alongside me again. The fight was over, for the time being at least, as we simply wanted to survive and pull ourselves from this river before a more dangerous waterfall appeared in our path. 

 

I floundered, striking out with my arms and legs to try and counter the powerful drag of the water. We were being swept inexorably to who knows what. I feared more rocks jutting from the river stream that we could never see coming in the darkness until it was too late, or a steeper waterfall drop that might stun us with the sudden impact. Our chance came when the river curved, losing its powerful momentum for a moment, and I struck out at the closest river bank, alongside the outlaw who was desperately trying the same. We both reached out and grasped low hanging tree roots that dipped into the river where the river bank was slowly being eroded by the unrelenting force of its current. Inch by inch, I hauled myself up onto the river bank, just in time to see the outlaw claw his way to safety close by. He was gasping, having possibly suffered from his earlier collision with the rocks, so I wasted no time. I struck him hard with my balled fist, having lost my knife in the swirl of the river current, and saw him fall and roll onto his back. Time to end this quickly.

 

There was a struggle, but now that we were out of the water I was surprised to find I was the stronger one by far. I knew Gor’s gravity was kind to me, but even so, this development was surprising. I forced the outlaw back down onto the ground with relative ease now we were grappling hard, and before he could recover, I picked up a rock in order to strike hm repeatedly on the head.  

 

I raised the rock but suddenly froze before I might strike. It wasn’t an outlaw lying on the wet grassy moss of the river bank. It wasn’t even a man. I looked down at a woman who was coughing and writhing on the ground beneath me. And not just any woman. I looked directly into the eyes of the lovely, frankly adorable huntress, Mishka, in her trim fur-lined hunting leathers.