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Authors: Gilbert L. Morris

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“From a long way off,” Dave said. He began to stir Abbey's clothes with a stick, casting a curious glance at the man. “My name is Dave. You don't look like you belong here either.”

“I don't. I'm a captive. My name is Gaelan. When did they take you?”

“Just a few days ago. Have you been here long?”

“Over a month. I swore I'd never be taken alive. But I got knocked in the head somehow, and they brought me here. When I awoke, I was tied up. No choice. I won't stay, though.”

Dave looked at the high fence with its sharp stakes and at the guards constantly monitoring it. “Does anybody ever get away—escape, I mean?”

“Not that I know of, but there's always a first.” He looked at Dave and said, “You look like a pretty tough fellow—maybe you'll go with me? Two might have more of a chance.”

“Maybe I will. I can't stand this place much longer. Where I come from, men are the stronger ones.”

“That's the way it is with my people. But I belong to
her
now, or so she says.” Gaelan nodded toward Princess Merle. “She's tried to break me, but she hasn't.” He grinned, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned face. “I like it when she tries. She can't have her way with
me
anyhow, and that makes her angry.”

Merle saw them talking and came over at once. “You don't have enough work to do, Gaelan? Maybe I can find something else.”

“Of course, Princess. I can handle anything you can give me.”

The arrogance of the young man obviously grated on Princess Merle. “Very well,” she snapped, her face reddening. She called to one of the guards. “See that Gaelan here has more work. He apparently has time to gossip with the rest of these men.” She set her eyes on Dave then and said, “Do you need more work too?”

“No, I think this is enough for me,” Dave said carefully. He had learned that a little humility might go a long way.

After the Princess moved away, Dave and Gaelan
continued talking quietly. He asked Gaelan about the physical possibilities of escape.

Gaelan said finally, “You know, there's another one that I'd like to see come with us.”

“Who's that?”

“Rolf, the son of the queen.”

“What's he like?”

“Well, believe it or not, he's not a bad fellow. He's been under the thumb of his mother and his sister and these other women for so long that he hardly knows he's a man. But if I could get him away, I could teach him some things.” His hazel eyes gleamed with thought. “I don't know if he's got enough nerve to run away, though. They've pretty well drained him of all the manhood he had.”

Over the next few days Dave grew very close to Gaelan. He met Rolf also, a wiry and small-boned but tallish young man. He had light blond hair and mild blue eyes.

Carefully Dave tried to suggest that, as the son of the house, he might take more responsibility. But Rolf merely stared at him blankly. “My mother is the queen,” he said quietly. “When she dies, my sister, Merle, will be the queen. I help my father with the house.”

Well, that takes care of Rolf, unless there's a big change in his life
, Dave said to himself.

Later he and Sarah met by accident, both getting water from the stream that flowed through the village.

“How are you doing, Sarah?”

“They're trying to make a warrior maid out of me.” She grimaced. “I feel sorry for Josh. Those two women are making life miserable for him.”

“I know the feeling.”

“I don't think you do. Marden and Ettore, they're a pair of vicious ferrets! They've had Josh whipped twice
already, just for minor offenses. When I protested, they said a warrior maid had to be made of tougher stuff.” Sarah's eyes glittered. “Ooh, I'd like to get my hands around the necks of those two!”

“Hey, you're beginning to sound pretty blood-thirsty,” Dave said with a smile. “I wish we all had some of that toughness. Especially Abbey, but she's just not as strong as you are.”

“I know. I've talked to her.” Sarah had opportunity to move around more than the guys did, and she gave a report of what she'd learned. “That Tanisha is about to drive Reb crazy. She's already asked him to be her mate.”

Dave laughed aloud. “What did Reb do?”

“He turned absolutely pale. You could see his freckles standing out. So far, he's been too shocked to say anything.”

“Somehow we've got to get out of this mess. I don't see any way of ever changing these people.”

“There's a way. We've just got to find it,” Sarah said.

And then the guards moved close and said, “No talking. Get the water and be gone.”

“I'll see you later,” Dave said. He carried his water pails back to the queen's house, where he found Chava sitting with the queen, reading to her from a book.

After Dave emptied the water, he lingered, listening.

The queen looked at him with her cold eyes. “Are you through there? Then be off.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Do you like poetry, boy?” Chava called out.

“I like some of it, although I don't understand it very well.”

“Good, you can hear some of mine,” Chava said.

When the boy left, Chava said, “He's a fine young man.”

Faya had been studying Dave. “He might do as a mate for Merle.”

“I don't think she cares for him,” Chava offered anxiously. “They don't get along.”

“They don't need to get along. She'll be the queen one day. He'll do as she says.”

“Yes, Faya.”

Queen Faya suddenly looked at her husband, and her eyes softened. “Not every man is like you,” she said quietly. She studied the small man sitting beside her, and she said gently, “I could not have held the throne without you, although nobody believes that.”

Chava reached over and took her hand. “You are a magnificent leader, Faya. You have held these people together as no one else could.”

Queen Faya listened to his words, then closed her eyes and leaned back. With a sigh she said, “I do not know what will become of the throne. Merle must be ready.”

“Your reign isn't over for a long time,” Chava said. “But,” he then added, “if Merle must have a mate, I think that young man would be a good one—if he could learn to accept a few things.”

9
Yesterday and Today

O
ne member of the tribe that Dave and Sarah found most interesting was Zuriel, the historian. He was probably between fifty and sixty but seemed older. He had a long gray beard and a bushy head of hair to match. His eyes had wrinkles about them but were bright as a bird's.

Dave and Sarah had found him to be a well of information, and now the two of them had gone to his house and were sitting on the ground in front of him.

Zuriel sat on a low stool, holding a bark tablet. He had put his writing away, however, and for the last hour had been telling them stories of the Kingdom of Fedor.

His knowledge went back past his own days, and he told them, “My father was the historian before me, and his father before him. Some of Fedor's history is written down, but much of it is in songs and in long poems which we've committed to memory.”

Sarah listened with such interest that the old man seemed flattered. She said, “Most of the world away from here is not like Fedor.”

The man nodded. “All places are different.”

“I mean, men and women behave differently there,” Sarah said with some hesitation. “Do you know, Zuriel, how
strange
this place is?”

His wise old eyes sharpened, and he looked around as though to see if anyone was near. Children were playing close by, rolling in the dirt, and some
guards paced along the walls, but no one could hear his words. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. “Yes, I know. You speak of how the women are always in charge here and never the men.”

Dave leaned forward. “How did that happen? Did it begin in your time?”

“No, it was before the time of my father's father. I heard him tell of it, though. I was a mere child, and he was an old, old man. But like all good storytellers, he told every story exactly the same way every time he told it, and I heard him tell this story more than once. Women think that Fedor has always been like this, but it hasn't.”

“How did it change?”

Zuriel bent his head and let old memories pour over him. Then he began to speak in a strange sort of cadence. His young hearers knew he was repeating the story as he had heard it from his grandfather.

“There was a time when the men ruled over the tribe. The women cooked and kept the houses and bore the children. The men went out and hunted game, and they fought when the enemy came to destroy the tribe.” He went on, describing normal village life such as Dave and Sarah could imagine.

At last he said, “But then war came, and almost all the men were killed. The women took over. One woman was stronger than the rest. She determined to become queen, and she forced the others to accept her. She formed the strongest women into guards and taught them to fight. The few men that were left were old or very young or wounded. They were practically made servants. This went on all through the queen's life, and she insisted that every time her maidens married, they would rule their households. She taught them the art of war, and they learned well. For generations this went
on until today no one can remember when it was different.”

When Zuriel finished, Dave said, “Zuriel, we need to turn this village around. It's based on the wrong kind of relationships.”

“I do not know about relationships,” Zuriel said, shaking his head, “but you would have trouble changing things. Change is always hard.”

“Do you think change would be good, Zuriel?” Sarah asked him directly.

“I'm old, and if the queen or her council heard this, they would have me given to the Dark Gods; but yes, I think the custom should be changed. No one should rule to the hurt of someone else.”

Zuriel seemed to have shocked even himself, and then his eyes opened wide. “Do not tell me you are thinking of leading a rebellion. We'd all die in the attempt. The women are good warriors; the weaker ones have died. Now only the strong are left.”

“All things are possible where Goél is concerned. But tell us about this god you serve. This one you call Maug.”

“There is always a Dark God,” Zuriel said sadly. “Sometimes his name is something else, but it is always the same dark power. You must have him in your world too.”

“Yes, we did.” Dave nodded sadly. “But he can be defeated. Goél is stronger.”

“That would be a good thing. I would like to see the end of Maug—and to take Mita's beads away from her. She is a mean, vicious woman, responsible for the death of many innocents.”

“She'll be the first to go,” Sarah said with determination.

They talked for a long time, and Zuriel warned
again, “You cannot take them by force. They're too strong.”

“You're right, Zuriel,” Sarah said slowly. “We're not strong enough to do that.”

“How
can
we do it then?” Dave asked in some bewilderment.

“Remember what Goél said?”

Dave thought for a moment. “You don't mean about love, do you?”

“That's exactly what I mean.”

Dave shrugged his shoulders and laughed shortly. “I don't think they'd have much respect for love. All they respect is a sword or an arrow.”

“They may be warrior women, but they're women all the same, and though it might be buried very deep, they want love. I'm sure of it.”

Dave stared at her with consternation. “Well, Sarah, you're the expert on romance, but how are we going to get them to listen?”

“Somehow we'll find a way.” Sarah smiled. She looked up at Zuriel and said, “Now, tell us more. We need to know everything about the nature of these Amazons.”

Ettore was watching Josh scrub the floor. A knowing smile touched her lips but not her eyes. She had delighted in tormenting Josh ever since she brought him home, and she now ambled over and leaned against the wall, looking down at him silently.

Josh felt her presence but did not look up. His back still ached from the last beating she had administered with the cane she kept especially for that purpose. He had endured the caning without uttering a sound, but this had seemed to anger Ettore rather than please her, and she had redoubled her efforts. Marden,
her mother, finally said, “That's enough. We don't want him scarred up in case we want to sell him.”

Now Ettore studied the young man. “Are you afraid to look at me?” she asked.

Josh straightened up. He was kneeling and did not rise to his feet, but his blue eyes met hers without flinching. “No, I'm not afraid to look at you,” he said calmly.

“Watch your tone, or you'll get another caning,” Ettore warned. “And stand up!” she commanded.

When Josh was standing, she began to prod his arms and chest. Josh's flesh crawled, and he yearned to strike her hands away. He had seen farmers run their hands over cattle they were considering buying. She had to know that he hated to be touched, and she persisted every day in aggravating him in this way. Somehow her touch was degrading to him, but he tried to let none of this show in his face.

Finally Etttore seemed angered that he did not respond. “I've been too easy on you,” she said. “You're spoiled.”

“If you say so,” Josh said, his lips in a straight line, his eyes still locked onto hers.

“Well, aren't you the meek one! I can see what's inside your head, though. You'd like to get at me with a knife, wouldn't you?”

Josh suddenly asked, “Why do you treat me this way? You treat all your servants badly.” He knew none of the slaves in the household of Marden and Ettore escaped punishment.

“Quiet!”

But Josh did not obey. “Haven't you looked around?” he asked. “Those people who treat their servants nicely get loyalty out of them. All you get is hatred, because that's all you ever show. It's no way to live.”

Ettore cracked him across the cheek with an open hand. The blow made an ugly splat, and her fingers were outlined on his cheek. “I told you to be silent,” she said. “You're mine, and I'll do with you as I please. I may even decide to have you as my mate.”

“I'd rather have a snake for a mate,” Josh said. He knew at once that he had made a mistake.

Rage flickered in Ettore's dark eyes. She whirled and ran through the house yelling, “Where's my cane?”

She found it, came back, and began to beat Josh about the head. Helplessly he stood there, covering his head with his hands. Then the cane burned like fire as it lashed across his back and sides. He was wearing only a thin shirt, and he heard it tear. He tried to ignore the pain, keeping his lips tightly shut and his eyes closed.

“Stop that!”

Josh opened his eyes to see that Sarah had come into the room and had stepped between him and Ettore.

“Get out of my way, Sarah.”

“I won't do it. If you have to whip somebody, start in on me.”

“I could do that, you know!”

“Why don't you?” Sarah said. “But I warn you, I won't take it like Josh does.” She seized a broom and said, “Go ahead. We'll see who gives up first—you with your cane or me with my broom.”

Suddenly Ettore laughed. She held the cane in one hand, tapping her other palm with it, and she smiled cruelly. “I like that! You've got fire. You may make a warrior maid after all.” She scrutinized the girl and said, “You like him, don't you?”

Sarah flushed. “We've been friends a long time.”

“Friends? A woman doesn't need a man for a
friend—just for a mate and then to take care of the house and the children. A woman has more important things to do.”

“I don't think so,” Sarah said. “I don't think there's anything more important than a husband and children.”

Ettore laughed harshly. “You'll change your mind, and don't get your heart set on this one. He's a little skinny right now, but when we fatten him up he may be just what we need.” She grabbed Josh by the hair and pulled his head back. “He's not as tough as Dave, but he might do.” She gave Josh's hair a cruel twist, laughed at the pain in his eyes, then turned and swaggered out of the room.

Sarah turned to Josh. “I'm sorry. She's an awful person.”

“That's putting it mildly.” Josh flexed his arm carefully, and a grimace crossed his lips.

“Let me see your back,” Sarah said.

“No.”

“Don't be foolish, Josh. Let me see. Take off your shirt.”

Sarah drew a sharp breath at the welts that crisscrossed his back and sides. “Let me put some ointment on that. It'll take some of the soreness out.”

She ran quickly and got her kit. She had some medical supplies—they had allowed her to keep everything except her weapons—and with a hand that trembled slightly she began to anoint the ugly welts.

Josh stood perfectly still. The ointment brought coolness to the burning wounds, and her hands were soft and gentle. When she had finished, he slipped his shirt on, saying with a faint smile, “Thanks, Sarah.”

“We've got to do something, Josh,” she said almost desperately.

“Do what? We're guarded night and day—even you. They pretend they're going to make a warrior maid out of you, but just try to get away and see what happens.”

Sarah bit her lip. “I know. I've been able to talk to Dave. He's talking about escape.”

“No, we can't do that! They'd hunt whoever got away like dogs. We don't know our way in this jungle, and they do.”

“That's what I told him. Whatever we do, we have to do it together. He did tell me, though, about the queen's son—Rolf. I met him a couple of times. He's a nice boy.”

“Boy? He's nearly twenty, isn't he?”

“I know, but he seems so…well…vulnerable. Dave's been working on him some. And then there's a young man called Gaelan. There are others, I am sure. If we could get enough men together—”

Josh stared at her. “You mean to take over from these Amazons?
That
would take some doing.”

“I know. It's just that we need to be doing
something.
I'm going to talk to Rolf now. At least he has the queen's ear.”

“From what I hear, Queen Faya doesn't listen to anybody.”

“I don't think that's true,” Sarah said slowly. “I've watched them quite a bit, and I've talked to Abbey about it. She listens to her husband. I think she trusts him more than anybody.”

“He's still just a husband—she's the queen.”

“That's true. Well, that's the culture here, and that's what's got to be broken before they can understand anything about love.”

Sarah found Rolf working in the garden in the sun-light.
He had removed his shirt, and she was surprised to see that he was not feeble-looking but wiry. And as he dug with the hoe, the muscles of his sides and shoulders sprang into instant relief.

“Hello, Rolf,” she said.

“Oh, hello, Sarah.” Rolf smiled at her. He had a pleasant smile. “How are things going over at Marden's?”

“Well, they're pretty strict, especially with Josh.”

“Yes, everybody knows that. They beat their servants all the time.” He shook his head. “That's a bad idea. Why make life hard for people?”

There was a gentle streak in this young man that Sarah warmed to. She watched as he hoed, noting that he did it effortlessly and quickly. “You do that so well,” she said.

“I ought to. I've been doing it all my life.”

“Do you ever wish, Rolf, that you could do something else?”

“Something else?” He raised one eyebrow. “What else would I do?”

“Well, I mean, have you ever wanted to go hunting?”

“I suppose I did when I was younger.” A memory seemed to come to him, and his eyes grew dreamy. “When I was a boy, I used to pretend I was hunting. The women would go out and bring the game back, and I thought,
I'd like to do that.
But, of course, I never did. Merle, she's a good hunter.”

“I think you'd be a good hunter yourself. You're strong and quick, and you probably have good eyes.”

BOOK: Attack of the Amazons
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