John Brosnan - The Sky Lords

“Back off, you hear!” bellowed Buncher suddenly, swinging round and almost jerking her arm from its socket. He was yelling at the group who were following them. They laughed and called out insults but when Buncher pulled her along again she noticed they stayed where they were.

After a long open section Jan saw that room abruptly narrowed because of a series of makeshift cubicles on both sides constructed out of a variety of materials but mostly consisting of dyed cloth stitched together into patchworks. She guessed that these were individual living quarters and was proved correct when Buncher stopped at one of them and pulled open the blanket that concealed the entrance. “Inside,” he ordered and gave her a shove that sent her sprawling on to the dirty straw matting. A chicken gave a squawk of alarm and ran out past her. Jan looked around. The cubicle was about eight feet by ten. There was a dirty mattress against one wall. The only other large item of furnishing in the place was a large wicker-work trunk with a padlock on its front. The floor was strewn with unwashed food utensils, soiled clothing, bones and other food scraps. The smell was foul.

Buncher let the blanket drop back into place, listened suspiciously for a time for any sound from outside then came and stood over Jan. “You’re pretty. I like you,” he told her in a flat, emotionless voice.

Jan got up. She saw there was a spark of light in his eyes now and knew what it signified. This time there was no way of avoiding the inevitable. “You want to make love to me?” she asked him shakily.

He frowned. “Make love …?” Then his face cleared. “Oh, yeah, yeah, we’re going to make love.” He reached out for her. She stepped back. “What if I said I didn’t want to?”

Now he looked profoundly puzzled. “Eh? I don’t get you ….” He reached for her again. This time she didn’t back away. One of his beefy hands gripped her shoulder, the other began to tug at the opening of her suit. She moved closer to him and brought her right knee up very sharply into his groin. He made a whooshing noise and started to double over, his face twisting up with pain and shock.

As he folded over she rammed her fist into his chest above the heart then pulled free of his now weakened grip. He fell on hands and knees to the floor, wheezing and groaning. She stepped quickly around him, kicked him in the side of the stomach then raised her arm to deliver what she hoped would be a death blow across the back of his exposed neck. But before she could bring the edge of her hand hurtling down towards its target her wrist was suddenly seized by someone behind her.

An amused voice said, “Very impressive but not very smart, little amazon.

She turned quickly. It was the bald man she had noticed earlier. He was smiling at her as he continued to grip her by the wrist. Despite her shock and anger at his sudden appearance she was surprised to see that his eyes were of different colours. One was blue, the other green.

She drove her free hand, the fingers out stiff, at his throat. The next thing she knew he was holding her by both wrists. He was only lightly built and not much taller than she, but he was much stronger than he looked.

“Calm down, little amazon, and use your head,” he told her gently. “That way you may get to keep it. Trust me, eh?”

“Trust you? ” she hissed contemptuously. “Why should I?”

“Because, for the time being at least, I’m your only hope of staying alive.” He released her left hand. “I’ll let your other hand go if you promise not to try and hit me or do anything silly like running off. All right?”

After a pause she reluctantly nodded. She had, she realized, no choice at the moment. “Good,” he said and released her. He went over to Buncher, who was still on his hands and knees and groaning, and helped him to stand. When Buncher’s pain-racked eyes focused on Jan his face contorted with rage. “I’ll … kill her!” he gasped and tried to rush her but the bald man held him where he was with what seemed little effort. Jan’s first impression was confirmed. He was stronger than he looked.

“Easy, Buncher,” cautioned the bald man as he guided Buncher over to the mattress and sat him down on it. “Kill her and Bannion would be pissed with you.”

Buncher, clutching at his groin, glared at Jan with rage-filled eyes. “Okay, I won’t kill her … I’ll just break all her joints, slowly.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re starting to use your imagination, Buncher,” said the bald man lightly. “But if you give the matter some further thought you will see that the outcome will be the same. A glass walker who can’t walk is no use to Bannion. No, I have a much better solution. Give the amazon to me.”

“What?” Buncher turned and looked at the bald man, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why?”

“Well, you’re obviously not compatible while I, on the other hand, have had experience with such females in the past. I know how to treat them. Don’t worry, I’ll soon have this one broken, but without having to break her body. She’ll still be able to do her work for Bannion.”

“You try and break me and I’ll kill you,” Jan told the bald man angrily.

“Shut up,” he said without looking at her. “Well, Buncher, what do you say?”

Buncher shook his head. “No way, Milo. Benny gave her to me. And I’m keeping her.”

The man called Milo sighed. “Well, that’s unfortunate, because I’m taking her, Buncher. And I want to take her with your blessing.” He sat down beside him on the dirty mattress and put his arm around the big man’s shoulders. Buncher tried to pull away. He looked alarmed. “None of your tricks, Milo. I know you. …”

Milo smiled sadly at him. “I don’t think so. But don’t worry, Buncher, no tricks. Just tell anyone who asks that the amazon was too much trouble and you gave her to me.”

“No,” said Buncher. He was still trying, and failing, to dislodge the smaller man’s arm from around his shoulders.

“Be reasonable,” said Milo in the same quiet tone of voice. “Do what I say and I’ll owe you a couple of favours. And you know how useful my favours are, don’t you, Buncher? On the other hand …” Milo’s grip tightened. Buncher winced. Jan saw his face go white and then the veins stood out on the sides of his thick neck. “You’re a sorcerer, Milo!” he gasped. “Everyone hates … you. We’ll kill you one day … you’ll see. …”

“How many times has it been tried? My safety rope has been cut three times and I’m still here, aren’t I, Buncher? Even the poison in my food didn’t work, and as for that clumsy attempt by Bronski in the latrine. …” Milo shook his head in mock sorrow. “I wonder whatever did happen to good old Bronski. But enough of nostalgia, back to the matter at hand.” His grip tightened. Jan heard something go snap inside Buncher. He made a high-pitched mewling sound then he nodded frantically. Milo let him go. Buncher shrank away from him and wrapped his long arms about himself as if he was cold.

“Take her, take her …” he muttered, not looking at Milo.

Milo smiled at him, and even Jan felt a shiver of unease as she sensed the wrongness of that smile. Perhaps Buncher was right; maybe this man Milo was a sorcerer.

Milo said, “And you will say, if anyone asks you, Buncher, that you gave me the girl of your own free will?”

“Yeah, I will. I swear it.”

“Good man.” Milo gave him an approving pat on the shoulder. Buncher flinched at his touch, Milo stood up and smiled at Jan. “We can go now.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Jan told him.