Wrath and Uprising
It was a strange heaven and hell in which she stirred feebly. Heaven
because she rested on a soft, warm couch of fur; hell because a horde
of flaming pain-imps wrenched and tugged and twisted at her sword-arm.
Heaven because a thick, earthy fragrance was about her; hell because
dinning in her ears was a babble of coarse and indistinguishable
chatter.
Meg opened her eyes--then closed them, shuddering violently--knowing,
now, that this was neither heaven nor hell, but life. Life futile and
unwanted.
She was lying at the bottom of the Wild One trap, her right arm bent
crookedly beneath her, her body aching with a hundred bruises. But
alive. Alive because the warm, furry bed on which she lay was the body
of Nessa, cruelly pierced and broken by the sharp-pointed sticks from
which the doe's bulk had saved Meg.
Meg's eyes filled with waters of sorrow and pain. Sweet Nessa, gallant
Nessa, was gone. And now--
And now above her, squat silhouettes against the blue sky, were the
Japcans from whom she had _almost_ escaped. Even now one of their
number was being lowered into the pit; was reaching for her warily, one
hand clutching a ray-stick. Meg groped, with her good left hand, for
the sword she had dropped, but the yellow dwarf's finger tightened,
green radiation expunged all thought from her brain. As in a dream she
felt herself being lifted and borne, surrounded by fat figures whose
voices were raised in angry condemnation.
Then she was again within the confines of the camp and Grensu was
before her, his tiny, slant eyes aflame with bitterness.
"You have animal cunning, priestess of a barbarian race," spat the
Japcan commander. "I erred in believing you docile. Henceforth your
taming will be that of the scourge and the chain."
Meg said nothing. But she noticed, her head lifting proudly, that
some of the little man's confidence had deserted him, and that as he
spoke he moved his stiff neck gingerly from side to side. There was
throttling strength in the crook of Meg's elbow.
Leekno, his sallow face rebellious, was at Grensu's side.
"What is your command, O Grensu? Shall we destroy the white-limbed one?"
Leadership and desire met in conflict on Grensu's swart features. "The
woman pleases me--" he growled.
"She slew," reminded the lesser officer, "Togi, Ras and Yinga. Two
others lie wounded. It is written in the Law 'Death shall be punished
with death--'"
"I know the Law!" snapped Grensu. "But now we are not in Mayco. Here,
_I_ am the Law. And I am minded to--" A hesitation halted his words. Of
Meg he demanded, "Make your plea, Woman. Grensu listens."
* * * * *
There was a coursing pain in Meg's arm that began at her fingertips,
sped through forearm and upper arm, spread even to the rest of her
body, turning her stomach with nausea. Her heart was sick with
disappointment. Almost had she succeeded. But "almost" was a bitter
draught from the waters of might-have-been.
This day, which had dawned so fair and with such great hopes, had
become a leaden weight to her heart. There was nothing, now, worth
living for. Daiv, her mate, in combat had proven a coward. The beloved
Mother of her Clan lay dying. A score of her sisters were pellets of
death, heaped in a pile of rubble. Her last, desperate attempt at
freedom had failed.
"I make no plea, yellow man," she said haughtily.
The Japcan warriors muttered amongst themselves. Grensu's ripe lips
pursed irately.
"You do not understand, ivory one. I offer you one last opportunity.
Pledge fealty to me at even this late moment and your life will be
spared. Your wounds will be soothed by our healers, and, yes, even now
Grensu will permit you the great honor of becoming his mate." His slant
eyes probed hers. "Well, Woman? What is your answer?"
A laugh of sheer hysteria; a laugh that was half a sob, broke from
Meg's throat. She stepped toward the little yellow commander.
"This is my answer!"
And she spat squarely in the dwarfling's face!
Grensu turned livid. Beneath his yellow skin the blood surged
unhealthily, turning him to a sallow parody of a man. Fat fingers shook
as he wiped his face, screamed viciously, "Seize her! Put her to the
sword, Leekno! No--wait!"
Flames of pure hatred danced from his eyes. "Who defiles the haughty
blood of Japcan shall not die thus painlessly. Her death shall be a
slow one; one in which, shrieking for mercy, she shall have time to
remember this moment!"
He stood quivering, shaken, searching the dregs of his mind for a
fitting torment. Meg, waiting, saw from the corner of her eye a faint
movement to her right. The Warrior Chieftain, Lora, had stolen close
to one of the stunted invaders; her hand was even now reaching for
his sword. Meg knew the meaning of that trial. Lora well knew she had
no chance to fight or escape; her sole purpose was to clutch that
sword and plunge it through Meg's heart to spare the priestess worse
horrors. Then, though both of them died, their deaths would be clean
and welcome....
Meg wrenched her eyes away; tensed her body for the moment of cold
fire. And then--
There came a shout from the portal. The voice of a Japcan guard crying
amusedly, "By the Serpent, O Grensu--we are attacked by a band of naked
apes! Come you and view this wonder!"
All wheeled. And a swift hope flamed in Meg as she saw that the new
besiegers were--a host of the Wild Ones!
Lora, at Meg's side in one swift bound, cried out hoarsely, "What other
marvels shall the Gods send us this day, my priestess? Behold, even the
skulking rats of the forest have this day turned against us! Are we,
then, accursed?"
But Meg, forgetting her pain as for the moment she had been forgotten,
gasped as the full import of this raid broke upon her.
"It is not _us_ they attack, Lora! See who commands the Wild Ones!"
The leader was not hard to discern. His supple, hairless body stood
out like a living white flame against the background of gnarled, hairy
ones. His chestnut mane towered a full head above the tallest of the
Wild Ones, and he bore a great, rusted, two-handed sword in one hand,
waving it as a child a shaking-gourd. It was Daiv!
* * * * *
Then Grensu's hand was upon Meg's shoulder, spinning her about. To a
brace of yellow warriors he was howling, "To the _hoams_ with this
prisoner. We will attend to her when we have broken these foolish
Man-things from the forests. Come!"
He moved away with his lieutenants as Meg was taken to the _hoam_
wherein her sisters had been confined. Brutally she was shoved inside;
the two guards took their posts at the doorway. Meg pushed her way to a
window to better watch the battle.
There was little--pitifully little--to watch. By the time she reached
her vantage point, the horde of Wild Ones had deployed in a great
circle about the Jinnia village; now, at a signal from Daiv, they rose
like a great, swarthy tide and rushed down upon their enemy.
With their advance, a groan of despair rose from the imprisoned women.
Daiv had made his escape too soon. He had not seen, had not suspected,
the existence of a weapon such as the Japcans' force-wall. At one
moment a throng of roaring Wild Ones was racing upon the village; at
the next, scores were piled, shaken and bruised, before that invisible
barrier, unharmed, but--futile!
How futile, they did not at first realize. There was courage in the
hearts of the Wild Ones. Courage the existence of which the Clanswomen
had not dreamed. Despite their bruises and the racking pain which--Meg
knew from experience--was throbbing through their veins, they rose from
the ground; they hurled themselves once again and viciously at the wall
they could not see.
Lances shattered against that impenetrable force-field; swords were
hammered into blunt grips--but the Wild Ones could not effect entry.
Daiv was everywhere at once; begging, pleading, cajoling his new-found
army into greater effort. Twice Meg trembled as he threw himself vainly
against that force; she matched, with her own cheeks, the whiteness
in his as the second time he picked himself up weak, pain-racked,
exhausted. She gripped the arm of the Woman nearest her; it was Lora.
[Illustration: An invisible wall seemed to rear itself before him as
Daiv hurled his body forward.]
"They outnumber the Japcans. That is what my mate counted on; that
though many might fall before the rays of the yellow ones, enough would
break through to free us! We must help them!"
Lora shook her head grimly.
"The Gods know we want to. But we cannot."
"We can! If we can turn off that god-box before it is too late--!"
Meg screamed the final words. For she had seen, now, that which must
ultimately destroy the attackers. The Japcans, having had their fill
of mirth at the sight of this impossible attack, were now preparing
to go into action. In full view of the Wild Ones they were spreading
out, taking positions behind the invisible wall. Their ray-sticks were
poised and ready. A signal came from Grensu, grinning evilly in the
center of the walk-avenue.
"Drop screen! Fire! Up screen!"
* * * * *
As swiftly as he spoke, the events occurred. The engineer at the
god-box threw up his lever; instantly sticks in two score hands spewed
cherry flame into the ranks of the Wild Ones. Steam rose; bodies
disappeared; weapons dropped from hands now dwindled into cinders.
Then the force-field was replaced. By sheer chance, one or two hurled
weapons flashed through in the brief instant the barrier was down. One
dwarf clutched, screaming miserably, at a pronged lance that split
his throat in twain, bore him backward and pinned him to the ground
to writhe out his life. Another collapsed, moaning, his thigh-bone
shattered by a huge, hurled stone.
Meg's eyes sought Daiv frantically; found him. He still lived, but even
at that distance she could read the sickness in his eyes as he stared
dazedly at the dead about him.
Even as she watched, Grensu gave the triple order again. "Drop screen!
Fire! Up screen!"
And once more death stalked amongst the attackers, choosing his victims
with fingers of cherry-flame....
Lora's grasp shook the dread from Meg's eyes.
"You are the swiftest among us, priestess," cried the Warrior
Chieftain. "_You_ must reach the god-box."
Then Meg saw that Lora had not been inactive. She had gathered about
her all those of the Clan who were not disabled. A motley crew they
were. Hard-lipped Warriors, coarse-skinned Workers. There were
even--amazingly--three breeding-mothers in that little band! Their
billowing hips and pale, soft faces were strange attributes for a
fighting woman, but their eyes were lighted with the same fire that
suffused the eyes of Meg and Lora.
One of these, a woman named 'Ana, said now to Meg, "Once long ago,
Priestess, I too aspired to be a Mother. It was not so fated, and this
more humble lot became mine. But I will do my little part for you, for
the Mother, and for the Clan--"
Lora interrupted crisply, "You're slim, Meg, and you're fast. We will
create a disturbance at the door--" A tight and humorless smile played
upon her lips. "Then must you break through the window, somehow reach
the god-box."
Meg nodded. Her right arm dangled loosely at her side, but the pain
that had seared it was devoured now in a greater intensity, a more
vital urge. "So be it, Lora!"
"Then strike, Women!" cried the chieftain. Strong shoulders struck the
door with ravaging force; wood splintered, and the door burst from its
hinges like a splitting pod. Outside, the two yellow guards wheeled,
their eyes wide, their hands streaking for the ray-sticks in their
harnesses. One raised a shout.
Meg had only time to see that her Clanswomen were pounding through
the doorway, that both guards had fallen before them, that the tumult
had drawn the attention of the yellow men assembled in their tactical
circle. All eyes were focused on the escaping prisoners spilling from
the door; no one noticed as she clambered awkwardly from the window on
the farther side of the _hoam_.
* * * * *
It was Meg's village; she knew its every twist and turn. She did not
take at all times to the shortest route; she chose that which would
disclose her least as she moved toward the vulnerable spot of the
Japcan defense; the god-box.
But if the dwarfs could not see her, neither could she see them. She
marked the progress of the split battle by those few sounds she could
identify. Most important was the fact that she did not again hear
Grensu's voice raised in the commands to drop and raise the force-wall.
Destruction was, then, not presently breathing through the ranks of the
Wild Ones....
But her own folk? Meg could only pray silently to the gods that their
bravery might not be in vain--and continue running.
It was a short journey, but the torment within her brain made it
endless. It seemed hours later that Meg found herself finally
slipping through the last shaded alley, facing the spot which was her
destination--the spot on the invisible circle's perimeter where lay the
god-box.
Now confronted her but a few scant yards, and these the most dangerous
of all. Could she cross these without drawing the fire of the guards
about the box, she could lift that lever, if only for a moment, and let
in the battering host of Wild Ones. Once she had raised it, Meg vowed,
the lever would remain upright so long as she had a hand to hold it.
The Gods favored her in two ways. The guards about the box were looking
the other way, gaping at this astonishing counter-attack being made
by the supposedly vanquished Women. And--at Meg's feet lay something
that had been overlooked by the detail of yellow soldiery assigned to
cleaning up evidence of the first battle! One of the yellow invaders'
ray-sticks!
With difficulty Meg stifled the cry that leaped to her lips. From force
of habit, she stopped to lift the stick with her right hand; winced
with pain when those benumbed fingers touched the ground and refused
to grasp the object. Her left hand gripped it, held it; her questing
fingers found the button that activated its ray.
Which ray, Meg had no way of knowing. Nor could she take time to
experiment. Like a swift, golden ghost she sprang from the shelter of
her alley into the cleared space. She was halfway across that space
when one of the guardians of the god-box, by sheer chance, happened to
turn and see her.
His mouth opened in a shout of warning that never emerged. For Meg
lifted the stick--pressed the button! A spurt of cherry-flame engulfed
the dwarf, and he sank lifeless to the ground.
But his death was warning enough. Shock slowed the turn of the
other guardians, and in their slowness lay their doom. Meg's finger
remained rigid on the button; her ray swept clear the defenders of the
force-field--and she had reached her goal!
With a great shout of triumph she stumbled through that foul, steamy
mist, feeling scorched cinders beneath her feet, and found the lever.
With a mighty heave of her shoulders she forced it upward--
Then all was Bedlam!