Renegade of Callisto
- Автор: Картер Лин Спрэг
- Серия: Callisto #8
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Renegade of Callisto». Краткое содержание книги:
Far from his adopted home, the Golden City of Shondakor, Koja, self-exiled insectoid of the Yathoon Horde, has blundered into the savage land he had renounced, accompanied only by little Taran, ward of Prince Jandar. Lost in the treacherous scarlet plains, the two are hurled to separate, unnamable fates —Taran forsaken in shackles, along with the lovely Princess Xara, while the renegade Koja is locked on a perilous course of vengeance for the evils done to his clan. All destinies collide at the Great Yathoon Games in the hidden valley of Sargol — the impenetrable citadel girdled by a seething mote of flames.
In the spine-tingling tradition of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Lin Carter again transports us to a strange and sublime landscape pulsating with the flash of swords, secret splendors, and ever-lurking danger.
Then too, such are the curious customs associated with the manner in which the Yathoon warriors raise their young, the cubs never actually know which warrior might be their own father, so to partake in any adult quarrel would seem unreasonable and pointless to them, even if it were not forbidden by their Horde traditions.
Koja had killed seven. of the enemy warriors and little Taran himself had slain another two of them, when one of the sub-lieutenants decided that the strength of numbers might just possibly not be sufficient to subdue these two strangers, and lent Destiny a hand―and rather an “underhand” it was, too.
In a trice this fellow (his name Koja later found out to be Uthak) had whipped out his lasso and tossed it at the fighting stranger. The first thing Koja knew about it was when the leather thong fell about his shoulders and tightened around his upper arms, pinning them to his sides. Then Uthak pulled the lasso taut with a savage jerk which yanked Koja off his feet. He fell to the ground and, before he could strive to free himself, other loops were whipped around his arms and legs. Within moments he was bound hand and foot, and was completely helpless.
Taran, however, was wary as a young wolf, and the Yathoon warriors found they could not snare him from behind as they had Koja, because the boy set his back against a tree and, using the point of his rapier, either flicked aside or cut through each lasso they tossed at him. Finally, they battered his slender blade aside and closed in on him. They beat him into halfconsciousness with balled fists and took his weapon from him.
They did not, however, slay either of their captives. When one of them, a warrior called Hoog who had one blinded eye, inquired of Uthak why he was permitting the two to retain possession of their lives, Uthak made a sensible reply.
“Dead men make poor slaves.”
“That is so,” mused Hoog thoughtfully, savoring the essence of the remark with the manner of one to whom a Great Truth has been given.
“Besides,” added Uthak, who seemed to be in charge of the squad, now that Gothar was dead, “this carrion”―he kicked Koja lightly in the side as indication of which particular carrion he referred to―“slew the chieftain Gothar and six other warriors. He is no novice with a sword. If it is the decision of Fanga that he be permitted to continue living until we reach Sargol, then he may afford us some rare entertainment in the Arena.”
“That is also true,” admitted Hoog slowly. Then―and he would probably have smirked obsequiously if Nature had provided Yathoons with the prerequisites for smirking―he added, “I admire the superior reasoning powers of the juru-komor Uthak.”
Uthak nodded slightly, as if giving a receipt for the compliment.
Taran, lying there groggily while he was bound, wondered dimly what or where Sargol was.
Koja, who was also conscious, did not wonder about Sargol because he knew what it was. And it was bad news to him that the Clan whose captives they were seemed en route to Sargol, because he knew what happened there. And, anyway, he had other things to occupy his mind.
He was thinking about the Arena.
When his captives were disarmed, thoroughly searched, and had been lightly but securely trussed in such a manner that they could ride, sub-lieutenant Uthak led his band to where their thaptors had been tethered just within the borders of the little copse.
None of the Yathoons had bothered to look up above their heads, during or after the fight. But if they had looked up, they would probably have seen the scoutcraft moored to the branch above them. That they did not discover the flying vessel, Koja accounted the one small favor Fate hid tossed them, as one tosses a bone to a starving dog.
The Yathoons bundled their captives onto the thaptors that had belonged to the slain warriors and rode out of the copse. They did not bother to burn or bury the bodies of their fallen comrades; such ways were not Yathoon ways. The Yathoon is not a religious or even a superstitious creature, and therein he differs enormously from other barbarian nations, such as those of the Earth.
Neither is he at all sentimental. A dead body is just a dead body to a Yathoon: something to be looted of any useful or valuable possessions, and then to be simply left where it had fallen.
Having stripped the corpses, then, Uthak’s band rode away leaving them to the Callistan equivalent of crows.
Taran and Koja rode with them.
There was no sign of Fido. The othode had vanished into the brush at the first sign of the Yathoon squadron, and had still not reappeared.
At least he had escaped capture, thought Taran.
8 The Doom of Borak
The thaptors were tethered just within the edges of the copse, where they would be out of sight, hidden from discovery by any wandering predators or from the eyes of the hunters or warriors of an enemy Clan. Koja and Taran were assisted to mount the saddles, then tied in place with their hands tied behind them to render impossible any attempt at escape. The reins of their steeds were managed by their captors, who rode stirrup to stirrup on either side of them.
Thaptors are large, partly domesticated wingless birds or befeathered horses, or an unlikely combination of the two. Try to picture swift-footed, four-legged ostriches crossed with Shetland ponies and you will have a mental image of what they look like. They always remind me of the griffins or hippogriffs of legend and myth.
They have curved, parrotlike beaks and mad, round eyes. I call them “partly domesticated” because they have never been completely tamed or broken to the saddle and easily become cantankerous, restive, and uncooperative. Thanatorian riders carry a little dumbbell-like club called the olo which is hung on the saddle-bow, with which to beat their steeds into docility whenever they take it into their heads to ride off in some other direction than that in which their rider wants to go, or attempt to bite a piece out of his leg, or both―which they do quite frequently.
The squadron of warriors .that had been under the chieftaincy of Gothar had obviously been a party of hunters out scavenging for game, for the captors of Taran and Koja carried the carcasses of slain beasts lashed over their thaptors’ backs behind their saddles. This could have meant that the main encampment of the Clan lay some day or two days’ ride distant, thought Koja, which greatly increased his and Taran’s chances to break free and make their escape, especially since darkness had fallen.
However, such did not prove to be the case.
Within an hour or so, the hunting party entered the Yathoon encampment and rode between rows of tents toward the center of the temporary base. Koja learned about this clan by listening’ to the desultory conversations between his captors As they rode, and by reading the meanings of the tribal inscriptions painted upon the warriors’ bodies, saddles, accouterments, and war shields. The smallest of the six Clans, it was known as the Garukh Clan, and had been formed when the high chief, Fanga, withdrew with his retinue and followers from the great Kandar Clan when that clan had chosen another as high chief instead of Fanga.
The new Clan was quite small, as Koja might have guessed, with many cadets and servitors and slaves but few adult warriors. Bad blood existed between the Kandars and the members of the new Garukh Clan, and they were at open warfare. Any Kandar the Garukhs caught, they killed.
Perhaps I should explain here that the Yathoon barbarians are preliterate. They have no written language of their own and, with very few exceptions, can neither read nor write nor understand the universal written language of Thanator. They do, however, employ a crude and rudimentary form of sign language, a symbolism not at all dissimilar to heraldic blazonry. The trouble with these symbolic drawings is that they more or less mean whatever you want them to mean, and it takes a little getting used to them before you can make them out with any sort of accuracy, since the same symbol may mean six different things to members of each of the six different Clans.