Robert Adams - The Witch Goddess

Both of the men sat their big lowlander horses tensely, both pairs of eyes—the one black as sloeberries, the other a washed-out blue—looked as cold and hard as agates. The dark man bore an axe across his saddlebow, while the red man had a longsword gripped in one freckled paw, held with blade pointing forward at the level of his thick thigh. As she surreptitiously slipped off the safety of the rifle, Erica thought that if they had intended to give a menacing aspect, they had succeeded admirably.

The mounted trio reined up and halted only thirty feet from the woman, and the dark man cleared his throat, spat, then announced loudly enough for all to hear, “Ol’ Buhbuh, he be daid!” Then, to the shouting, wildly gesticulating throng of Ganiks, he roared, “Plooshuhn take you awl, jes’ shet your moufs till I be done a-tawkin’!”

As the hubub subsided somewhat, he went on, “Naow, I be Black Jed Fando, and I done took ovuh Buhbuh’s bunch and I’ll be raht tickled fer to kill enybody don’ lahk me bein’ leaduh.” He turned his head then and stared hard at Erica. “Mens or wimmens, eithuh, don’ mek no nevuhmin’.”

Erica contemplated shooting all three of the strangers then and there, but decided to hear the rest of what this arrogant, posturing jackass had to say.

Fando paused, waiting for a challenge, and when none seemed forthcoming, he continued. Taking one hand off the axehaft, he hooked a thumb over in the direction of the red-haired man. “Thishere be Baldfaced Kirby, mah bully. I done d’cided he’s gonna tek ovuh thishere bunch fer me.” Turning to once more stare hard, provocatively, at Erica, he demanded, “Enybody don’ lek thet?”

“Unless you two are determined to be entrees tonight,” remarked Erica conversationally, “you’d be wise to take this dog-and-monkey show back where it came from.”

She had unconsciously lapsed into archaic English of the twentieth century, so naturally no one understood a word she had said. But as her tone had not been threatening, Fando made an erroneous assumption and a fatal error.

Kneeing his big horse toward her, he extended a hand, “Gimme that there club, woman. I wawnts it.”

From the hip, Erica shot Black Jed Fando just under the raised visor of his helmet, then did the same for the redhead and, for good measure, Stinky Parsons, too. Then, as calmly as she could, she turned her back upon her own and the new Ganiks and strolled back to her cabin, entered and slammed the door behind her.

The whoopings and shoutings went on throughout the camp for at least an hour, for normal conversation among the Ganiks, Erica had discovered, consisted of each one trying to make himself heard among and above all of the rest. At length, there was a tentative knock at her door. She removed the bar and stood a few feet inside, rifle again fully loaded and leveled.

But the first and second men to stoop and enter were the grinning, giggling brothers, Lee-Roy and Abner, bearing huge loads of weapons ‘and segments of armor, which they dumped, clanking, on the dirt floor.

“What’s all this junk?” snapped Erica.

At the end of a fit of giggles, Abner said, “Awl them their bullies down fum the main camp, they ‘lows as how they lahks your stahl, Ehrkuh, and sincet you kilt thet Black Jed and his head bully, both, they awl wawnts you fer the new leaduh of Buhbuh’s bunch. But you will keep me’n Lee-Roy fer bullies, too, won’tcha?”

Although she had no desire to ride northwest, deeper into this primitive, savage land, farther away from the Center, she could see no option, at the moment, short of killing every living soul in the camp—not that she would have stuck at that to achieve her ends, but she did not have enough cartridges. So as soon as her three latest victims had been reduced to piles of inedible offal and well-picked bones, she slung her rifle, donned a helmet, belted on a sword and mounted Black Jed’s fine roan gelding.

Flanked by the faithful, devoted Lee-Roy and Abner— both now decked out in boots, armor, clothing and weapons stripped from various of Erica’s victims, with Abner on the dead redhead’s horse and Lee-Roy on Stinky Parson’s big pony—Erica set out to the northwest, leading a lengthy column of Ganiks on their shaggy ponies.

Although she knew it not, Dr. Erica Arenstein had just set out to take her place in legend.

Even farther to the north, in the most southeasterly of the strongholds of the Kingdom of New Kuhmbuhluhn, a place called by the Kuhmbuhluhners Sandee’s Cot, young Bill, Thoheeks and chief of Morguhn, had taken his oaths to the enigmatic Prince Byruhn of Kuhmbuhluhn and was preparing to lead part of his condotta out on their first patrol of the Ganik lands.

His was a most conglomerate command, this day. To his force of Confederation nobility, Middle Kingdoms Freefighters, Ahrmehnee warriors of two different tribes and the fierce Moon Maidens were now added old Sir Steev Stanlee— the new-made Count Steev—with a handful of his troopers and Pah-Elmuh, the Kleesahk, accompanied this day by two others of his semi-human ilk. Bili’s two prairiecats had left some hour earlier to scout the route ahead.

Before noon of that first day, Bili and his composite force had already blooded their weapons in the cause of Prince Byruhn and New Kuhmbuhluhn. It was, it developed, but the sanguineous beginning to the longest and goriest campaign in which Bili ever took part.

Prince Byruhn’s objective was no less than to drive all of the Ganiks—not only the bunches of outlaw-raiders, but the families of farmers, as well—out of the lands claimed by New Kuhmbuhluhn, and this was the purpose for which he had finagled the military services of Bili and his followers when the fires that followed the earthquake had forced the easterners to flee into the unknown lands of the western mountains.

At the end of his first week in his new service, he and elements of his force having taken part in no less than three patrols into and through various portions of the Ganik lands, Bili of Morguhn sat at meat in Sandee’s Cot.

The scarred and grizzled Count Steev sat in the center chair, with Bili on his right hand and Rahksahnah, leader of the Moon Maidens, on Bili’s right. Beyond her sat the acting captain of the Freefighters, Lieutenant Frehd Brakit. At the elderly nobleman’s left were ranged Vahrohneeskos Gneedos Kamruhn of Skaht, who vice-captained the Confederation nobles insofar as anyone could do so; Vahrtahn Panosyuhn and Vahk Soormehlyuhn, the two senior Ahrmehnee in Bili’s force; then the husky Moon Maiden called Kahndoot, who was Rahksahnah’s lieutenant.

Kahndoot was with them at Bili’s firm insistence. Although most of the other men did not like her—she was outspoken and brutally frank, openly contemptuous of most men and more than willing to meet any of them at swordpoint—Bili did. In the course of the past week’s patrols and skirmishes, he had found the big woman to be highly intelligent, an accomplished warrior, a competent leader and a good follower; moreover, she had proved possessed not only of mindspeak abilities, but of medium-range farspeak, as well, and this last was of an inestimable value to a combat commander, especially to one leading troops over unfamiliar terrain.

Those at the high table had feasted well on lamb, boar and larded venison, a pasty of fish, roe and eggs with herbs, onions and root vegetables, filets of trout fried with tiny, highly spiced sausages, plus breads and other oddments all washed down with drafts of the fine ale produced locally.

While Bili and Kahndoot cracked nuts between their hard, powerful hands, most of the others nibbled dried fruits and sipped wines or more of the honey ale. When he had done and had divided the nutmeats evenly between himself and Rahksahnah, Bili turned and spoke to the old count.