Читать книгу Bride of the Serpent God - John Peter Drummond - Страница 4

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KI-GOR placed a plump, scarlet berry in his mouth, and munched slowly, with much satisfaction. He lay in the cool shade of a flowering shrub, completely relaxed, obviously at peace with the world and pleased with life in general. The only sounds were the soft hum of insects drawn by the heavy scent of flowers and the lulling murmur of the broad river which flowed a scant twenty paces from where Ki-Gor rested.

Helene, his mate, vibrantly young and alive, stood beside Ki-Gor. She looked down at her lounging husband and feigning disapproval, she placed hands on hips and sighed with disgust.

"You lazy thing, Ki-Gor. Are you going to lie there all day eating berries?" she asked, pouting lips as red and much more inviting than the fruit which had occupied her Jungle Lord the past half hour.

The bronzed giant stirred only slightly, and without opening his eyes, he plumped another luscious berry in his mouth, and began chewing contentedly. But a little boy's smile of guilt slowly edged his lips, as he opened one cautious eye to peer at the accusing figure of his wife.

"For two days, Mister Ki-Gor, you've been rushing me along like mad, saying you had an important meeting here with Tembu George," she said, pointing a meaning finger at the Jungle Lord. "Now that we are here, I find no Tembu George, no important meeting, nothing but a lot of fruit you persist in stuffing yourself with because it is the nearest and easiest thing at hand!"

Ki-Gor's gray eyes opened wide in a great show of innocence. He made a valiant, though completely unsuccessful, effort to show hurt dismay that Helene would doubt his motives for a moment.

"Why, Helene, you know how healthful fruit is, and the fact it happens to be hanging right at arm's reach from me has nothing to do with my eating it," he righteously pointed out. "And you know also how very good rest is to build a person up. That's the only reason I am lying down."

The red-haired girl looked at the superbly proportioned body of her mate, and burst out laughing. "You certainly look like you need to be built up, you frail little mountain of a man!"

"Well, anyway," he grinned, "it is only proper to show adequate appreciation of gifts so conveniently and lavishly provided for us by nature." Stretching out his hand he urged, "Here, try some of these berries you'll find them delicious."

Helene tossed her red hair in a definite negative reply, and nudged Ki-Gor's ribs with one small foot.

"I will not let you fill me up on those things," she declared. "You promised to catch me some fish for lunch if I would hurry, and I want my fish!"

Ki-Gor shook his head apologetically. "Wrong time of day. Never catch fish this time of day. Better wait until morning."

He watched the slim, briefly clad girl turn with a switch of her hips and walk to where his spear rested on the ground. She bent, picked it up, and returned to place it across his chest.

"I want fish!" she said.

The white man glanced from spear to river, and reflected sadly, "Too muddy. I could never get anything in that muddy water. Besides, Tembu George is due to arrive any minute, and there wouldn't be time to cook fish even if we caught any."

"Fish, Ki-Gor!" Helene stated, catching the arm of the feebly protesting Jungle Lord, tugging mightily. With much groaning he got to his feet, and then abruptly he swept Helene up under one arm, and grasping the spear with the other, strode toward the river, humming loudly and tunelessly.

"Put me down, Ki-Gor! Don't you dare throw me in that river!" Helene cried, wriggling and kicking as she tried to escape. On he strode, unperturbed by the rising din of her cries. At the very edge of the bank, he halted, carefully putting his spear down. He appeared to debate as to where to throw the laughing, struggling girl, and then his solemn face breaking into a smile, he carefully set her down on the bank.

"Now sit there, and don't go puddling around the river bank," he told her, "because there are some very discerning crocodiles hereabouts who would like nothing better than a red-haired, long-legged young lady for dessert today."

"Yes, sir," she replied. "Now you go to work."

Helene watched the agile grace with which the big man crouched and picked up the spear. He straightened, threw back his massive shoulders, and walked several steps away to where the bank overhung a quiet, deep pool. He studied the spot, and then satisfied, he bent to one knee, holding the spear ready.

Minutes passed, and the motionless Jungle Lord was a graven image, his keen, searching eyes alone betraying the restless energy he held in check. Then the muscles of his shoulder and arm abruptly tensed, as he caught sight of a movement in the water below. A large fish passed with a languid grace up from the depths toward the surface. It swept by within Ki-Gor's reach, but he made no move, for with the subtle judgment of a wild creature, he knew the chances were still too great against a certain catch.

The big fish turned, and swept up ever closer to the surface, then came in close to the bank. The speed of the Jungle Lord's action bewildered the eye. With the smooth sureness of a piston-drive, his powerful muscles sent the spear point true, even before the cold lightning in the finny body could pull the fish to safety. The practiced skill of a primitive fisherman showed in the adroit manner in which Ki-Gor spun the twisting fish safely from the water and deposited it carefully on the dry ground behind him.

Helene gleefully slapped her hands, watching the success of her husband. "Ho, ho," she taunted him, "too muddy to catch anything, is it? Now, my vegetarian friend, we begin to make some progress. Two more as big as that, and you may go back to your resting."

She jumped to her feet and ran up the bank to make preparations for cooking the meal. The Jungle Lord glanced at her running form, and with a smile turned back to his patient task. Crouching on one knee, he again seemed to freeze into stone, so still was his great body.

Pell mell up the low slope ran Helene in her typically enthusiastic manner. Occupied with the matter before her, she paid little attention to her surroundings, giving not a glance to the barrier of shrubs, brush and thorn which rose head high around the clearing where they had made camp. She bent to select stones to be heated red hot in flames as the first step in preparing leaf wrapped fish steamed to mouth-watering deliciousness in the native manner. She picked up one rock, and started to reach for another when a low ominous rumble of sound jerked her upright.

There at the edge of the clearing restlessly moved a big lion, its mane golden in a bright shaft of sunlight. The huge male glanced arrogantly around, his baleful yellow eyes coming to rest on the girl. Out of the jungle behind the sleek male padded a lioness, nervously testing the air.

Fright burned through Helene with an electric blaze. She kept her head, however, and though prickles of anxiety ran along her spine, with deliberate slowness she edged backward one step, then another.

Tense, evil, yellow eyes flickered and burned at her like twin torches. Every instinct urged her to turn screaming and flee but with iron will she fought off this suicidal impulse. Her greatest hope lay in Ki-Gor's keen senses, for if the lions waited a few more moments before deciding to charge, she felt it was a certainty her mate would discover something was wrong and in some miraculous manner forestall the fate which faced her.

But now the great male grew more restless than ever; his jaws opened and the long tearing teeth glinted whitely against the red cavern of his mouth. Issuing from his deep chest came a thunderous rumble of hate, and he gathered himself in cat fashion for a swift, raging charge at the defenseless woman.

The hideous challenge of the lion struck Ki-Gor's ears like a thunderclap. He spun up and around, his gray eyes knifing up to Helene and beyond to take in the situation at a glance. The surface robe of civilization was torn away by what he saw. His nostrils spread and whitened, his firm lips drew back over his teeth in an unuttered snarl. Propelled by a jungle fury as great as that of the stalking lion, he leaped forward to face the beast and shield Helene. Before Ki-Gor could reach her, the huge lion straightened from its crouch and flung with mad speed toward the girl.

Ki-Gor knew instantly he could never reach her. There was but one long chance, and he took it. His steel muscles corded as he braked to a stop, and drawing the heavy spear in his right arm back, he plunged it forward with tremendous speed. The terrible power of the throw sent the heavy spear hurtling like a weightless shadow. It sped past the cringing girl and crashed between the fore legs of the charging lion, through the beast's chest and deep into its vitals. The skewered animal in its final plunge dashed the spear hilt against the ground driving it in deeper. Then with a last gurgling roar of pain the big male careened to one side of Helene and fell shuddering and dying in the dirt.

Maddened by the sound of her dying mate, the lioness, slavering with anger and excitement, bounded forward to the attack. Ki-Gor had anticipated this move, however, and the moment he threw the spear he resumed his leaping rush. He swept by Helene, straight at the oncoming lioness. The knife from his belt sheath gleamed in his right hand. There was a lash of bodies and a blinding melee of dust. The harsh grunts of the man mingled with the staccato growling hate of the animal. Through the cloud of dust Helene saw Ki-Gor fasten himself with unbreakable grip on the back of the lioness, his left arm tight about the creature's throat, while the right hand drove the knife with relentless power again and again into the chest. The plunging beast staggered and stumbled and fell lifeless. Ki-Gor stepped back lightly from the inert body, and the cruel mask on his face softened and disappeared. He pulled a great draught of air into his lungs, then bent with steady hands to clean his knife. Thrusting the weapon back in its sheath, he turned, calm and unshaken, and walked to Helene's side.

"It's all right now," he said.

Her eyes were still large with fright, but seeing how unperturbed her mate was, she caught hold of her feelings, and smiling, reached out a small hand to caress Ki-Gor's arm.

She smiled, and her voice was steady, as she said, "You really have a time trying to get your wife fed, don't you, Ki-Gor?"

He took her by the arm and guided her close to the riverbank. Selecting a clear spot for a fire, he set about collecting firewood and stones for heating. Expertly he arranged the wood and stones, and in the age-old jungle manner of rapidly revolving a dry stick with his broad hands, he soon had flames biting their way along the base of the wood. Helene gathered the proper leaves, long, broad, heavy leaves to wrap the fish in, while Ki-Gor deftly prepared the fish for cooking.

The Jungle Lord was busy, his back turned to the river, when Helene, looking up the river suddenly cried, "Here comes Tembu George now!"

"I might know food would bring him hurrying at top speed," Ki-Gor said without turning from his task.

Shielding her eyes, Helene strained to make out the figures in the distant boat which swept down stream towards them.

"He certainly is traveling in style," she commented, "that looks like the finest war canoe the Masai ever turned out."

His curiosity aroused, Ki-Gor turned to peer downstream, the opposite direction from which the boat approached. In a puzzled tone he asked, "Where is any war canoe?"

"Why, right there," the girl cried.

He looked up the river then and instantly arose. "That can't be Tembu George. He will come from the other direction."

Gliding swiftly with the current, the big craft came at a fast pace. It was a long, low, rakish boat, seating at least twelve warriors. Paddles dipped rhythmically into the glittering water sending the craft along with practiced skill and precision. Ki-Gor made out the dark forms of the oarsmen now, and he saw the black carved prow.

Apparently the men in the canoe had sighted the couple on the bank, for they veered in and slackened their pace. There was a harsh cry, a flurry of action by the rowers, and the big craft slowed almost to a standstill, and nosed its way up to the bank a few yards from where the jungle couple stood. In the manner of skilled river men, the natives hastily made the boat fast to the shore.

The Jungle Lord saw the leader of the warriors leap ashore. The man was tall and thin, with a lean hard face and nervous, darting eyes. Those uneasy eyes ran quickly over Helene and Ki-Gor, and then the man raised his right hand and called out a greeting of peace. The words he spoke were ones Ki-Gor knew, but his accents were of some distant locality.

"Welcome, traveler," the big white man said, responding to the native's greeting. "The war canoe you have there is one to be proud of."

"Aye! I am proud of it," the black man replied. His eyes flickered past Ki-Gor to Helene and then off up the slope.

"It has carried us far and fast this day," he said. "Tell me, is this the country of the Wasuli? It is many years since I was last here and the region has changed, making it difficult for me to be exactly sure of my place."

Ki-Gor noted that the other natives in the long canoe were now all ashore, and each man was fully armed. With studied casualness, he took in every detail of the group, meanwhile answering, "Yes, this is the upper edge of the Wasuli area, and their region extends down river a half-day's ride at least, even in your swift craft."

Several of the men scattered up the bank, and though the Jungle Lord in no way betrayed the knowledge, his searching eyes knew the men were on the lookout for others who might be in company with the jungle couple. With regret, he remembered his bow and quiver of arrows lying where he had left them by a shrub, and his heavy spear resting against a tree where he had placed it after dispatching the lion.

From two of the natives padding about in the clearing above them came surprised exclamations. They had come on the bodies of the slain beasts. They called to their leader, and Helene and Ki-Gor accompanied him to the spot. He looked at the big bodies, studying the wounds, and with a tone of unbelieving admiration in his voice he asked Ki-Gor, "Who did this?"

"I did," the Jungle Lord stated simply, without any trace of boastfulness for to him the deed was not in the least unusual.

"You are a great warrior to have done this singlehanded," commented the tall black man, his uneasy eyes weighing and appraising Ki-Gor again. "What is your name?"

"I am Ki-Gor," was the answer.

"I am Basru," the native volunteered. "I come from a place of great warriors, but by the golden moon, I know no other man who could have performed such a deed as this."

He turned away to go, barking a command for his men to board the canoe. As though trained to obey, the natives turned toward the craft. The hostility Ki-Gor had sensed lurking in the strangers, he suddenly thought, seemed unwarranted. The bronzed jungle man moved to accompany the native leader to the riverbank. It was this momentary relaxation of his instinctive guard that Ki-Gor was long to regret. As the Jungle Lord walked along with Basru toward the boat, he paid little attention to the two big natives who lingered behind their fellows and now ambled slowly along at his back.

Basru raised his hand as though to stroke his hair, and at this signal, the two black men who trailed behind flung themselves on Ki-Gor's back. The completely unexpected onslaught sent the Jungle Lord crashing to his knees under the shocked eyes of Helene before he knew what was happening.

But Ki-Gor's trained reflexes changed him into a raging fury by the time he struck the earth. He made no single outcry, but fought silently, desperately, terribly, from the first moment he could bring his great muscles into play. His steel-hard hands caught hold of one of the native's ankles and the sheer overwhelming pressure of his grip burst the man's skin and flesh as he tore him down within closer reach. He snapped the native's neck like a rotten twig and lashed out with mighty blows that caved in the ribs of the other native.

The treacherous Basru, seeing that the massive white man was recovering his footing, picked up a big rock and darted in behind Ki-Gor. The native smashed the rock down once, twice, against Ki-Gor's skull. This cowardly blow accomplished what the two natives had failed to do. Ki-Gor pitched face forward like a felled ox. Helene screamed in horror as she saw her beloved mate lying crumpled, blood gushing from his head.

In panic she started to throw herself at Ki-Gor, but ruthless hands caught her arms and drew her back.

Basru's cruel eyes shifted from the fallen Jungle Lord to the sobbing girl. "You'll have no further need of him, woman. He's dead, or if he's not, he soon will be."

At an order from Basru, Helene was taken to the boat, but it took three men to force the struggling girl along. The hard-faced native leader glanced at Ki-Gor's unmoving form, debated a moment, then directed the white man also be brought along to the boat.

"The great Serpent God will smile on us for this day's work," Basru said in a pleased voice. "Even as the High Priestess ordered us, we have found a worthy sacrifice for the Festival of the Seventh Moon."

The tall leader jumped into the war canoe to see personally to the binding of Helene's wrists and ankles. She was forced to lie down in the bow of the boat, so that her red hair and fair skin could not be detected by anyone watching from shore. Satisfied that the girl was safely tied and placed, Basru ordered the boat cast off. His eye ran down the row of men waiting with paddles ready, and came to light on the big form of Ki-Gor. The natives had carried the white man and placed him in the boat, assuming from Basru's directions that he intended taking the Jungle Lord along.

"We have no use for that lifeless hulk," he called out sharply. "I meant only for you to bring him to the river bank and throw him into the water, thus erasing all trace of his body. Quickly now, throw him over the side."

Helene fought at her bonds, and succeeded in straining her head up to plead with Basru. He ignored her tumbling words, and the two men nearest Ki-Gor, rose and caught hold of the Jungle Lord. Through reddened tear-wet eyes, Helene saw the natives lift the limp and unresisting Ki-Gor and toss him out over the low side of the war canoe. She heard the loud splash as he struck the water. Simultaneously, Basru's harsh voice called out a command and the boat jumped forward and with steadily increasing speed cut its way Upstream through the sluggish current.