Luana Read online

  Now it was time for the witch doctors to go into their routine, dancing around the wooden frame. They were apparently blessing, sanctifying the structure—and several ominous clay bowls filled with unseen instruments.

  Several husky warriors came over and selected the first victim. Luana. She didn’t so much as sniffle, but she fought them every centimeter of the way. She let herself droop and they had to lift her up. When two of them lifted her under the arms and raised her off the ground, she suddenly jerked up both bound legs. The double kick caught one of the warriors in the side with enough force to crack ribs.

  Using a rock-hard fist, one of the warriors began clubbing her on the side of the head until she slumped in their arms. She was still conscious, but barely.

  Barrett’s mouth went wide, but nothing came out. What could he say or shout? What words could possibly boost the courage of a person in a situation like this? Better to leave one to his own thoughts and not intrude the outside world.

  She was fighting them again, but in slow motion. Her gestures were soft as butter. They dumped her back first onto the frame. Her wrists were separated and tied to the top two corners of the square. Then her ankles were released and secured to the bottom bar.

  Several warriors grasped the top bar and shoved. The square frame rose to a vertical position and was lifted high. The top pole, projecting out past where Luana’s wrists were fastened, was eased down into two thick, forked logs. She hung there, the frame swaying slightly on its supports.

  The witch doctors resumed their praying and prancing, this time restricting their attentions to the bound girl hanging in the frame. They sprinkled multi-colored powders and shreds of plants on her. Once, she managed to spit on one of them. The crowd found it amusing.

  Fully cognizant of events to come, the witch doctor held his temper easily. It would take a great deal more than a little spit to make him kill her in a flash of anger. And a knife blow would spoil the superb skin.

  Crocodile-head moved to one of the painted clay bowls and selected a device from the contents. It was a bone knife, some fifteen centimeters long and as wide as Barrett’s palm. There was no way of telling what kind of skeleton the blade had been fashioned from. Barrett could guess.

  Holding the ceremonial blade high over his head, the witch doctor began to dance around Luana. He thrust and jabbed and poked with it, coming closer and closer but never quite making contact.

  All at once the village was quiet. Graveside silent. After all the preceding hellish screaming and yelling, the subsequent peacefulness was twice as horrible.

  The witch doctor, moving as though every step was prescribed by ritual, moved behind her. His doppelgänger stood in front and put both hands firmly on her shoulders, holding the frame steady, still. Crocodile-head raised the knife and brought it slowly down towards the back of Luana’s neck.

  Isabel, forgetting her promise to herself, forgetting the warnings from George, screamed . . .

  Ohoh had been stuffing himself with ripe bananas, falling behind the expedition while filling his belly with fruit. By the time he’d hurried on to catch up and spotted the witch-men circling through the trees, it had been too late to cry a warning.

  Helplessly, he’d seen the Wanderi surround the little party, attack, and capture all of them. Even sister beloved.

  How do you feel now, Ohoh? Comfortable? Sleepy, with your belly stuffed and your sister in the hands of the evil man-things?

  If it would have made a difference, he would have battered out what few brains he had against the trunk of the mbogo tree. He did have enough of them to realize that the gesture would be no help to Luana.

  That’s when he started back, fairly flying through the trees, making tremendous, desperate leaps from bole to branch without caring that a misjudgment might plunge him twenty or thirty meters to the hard forest floor below. Startled rainbows exploded from the foliage where his sudden passage surprised local fowl. Smaller monkeys and wide-eyed lemurs dashed into higher branches when the brown shape hurried through their homes.

  He finally found Chaugh lolling comfortably beside a water hole, half asleep. Ohoh fell the last five meters and landed square on the dozing panther’s back. Chaugh shot several meters straight into the air and Ohoh was thrown free.

  The panther swung angrily to search for his unseen assailant. When he discovered that it was only the mischievous chimp, he started towards him angrily. Childhood brother or no childhood brother, he’d cuff the intolerable ape halfway to the veldt.

  Ohoh ignored the panther’s threatening approach. This astonishing behavior alone was enough to tell Chaugh that something important was up. The chimp hopped up and down, chattering frantically and making twelve contradictory gestures at the same time. Chaugh paused and waited patiently. Finally Ohoh slowed down enough for the big cat to absorb the basics of his performance.

  “We must hurry,” he muttered finally, and started off in the direction Ohoh had come. “The evil man-things may act, and—”

  Three violent tugs on his tail interrupted his progress. He whirled, snarling.

  “Now what is the matter with you, offspring of toads!”

  While both began to argue noisily, Jukakhan, aroused by all the commotion, rose from his sleeping place and ambled into the little clearing. In their excitement, both the panther and Ohoh had forgotten the easy-going giant. Ohoh now had to repeat the entire story for the lion’s benefit. He also had to repeat the tail pulling, for Jukakhan was equally impatient to be off.

  “You cannot, you cannot!” the chimp insisted. “Do you mush-heads not understand? There are hundreds of the man-things! We would all die, and sister, too!”

  “Destruction to them!” roared Jukakhan, clearing the forest of warm-blooded life for half a kilometer in all directions.

  “Yes, yes, most certainly, of course,” Ohoh stuttered. “But they have poisons, like the legless folk. Can you chew out your own insides, flat-face? We must have help. It must be done quickly, so that they will not have time to ready their poisons.”

  “I like this delay not,” the lion growled. “And every second we tarry, sister may die.”

  “The evil man-things have ceremonial stalkings, too,” the chimp reminded them. “One carefully prepared friend is worth more than a dozen who rush in unthinking.”

  The great lion scratched at his mane, coughed. “You think too much, ugly little brother.” The broad face twisted with unaccustomed thought. “Yet . . . yet I see there is truth in what you say.”

  Chaugh spoke hurriedly. “What would you have us do?”

  Ohoh explained, repeating several times to make sure the cats understood.

  “It will not work,” said Jukakhan finally. He was adamant. “They will not come.”

  “Not for you, nor surely for I,” Ohoh agreed. “But they all know of man-sister and most have dealt with her. For her—”

  Chaugh nodded sagely. “It may be possible. I will take the tree places and the high rocks.” He turned to Jukakhan. “You, brother, must go quick to the green edge, where the four legs thrive.”

  “And I and the brethren will take the treetops,” Ohoh concluded. He swung himself up into the nearest tree. “Go then, brothers, and pass over no one!”

  The strange triumvirate split.

  Chaugh sought out the many hiding places of the tree hunters, the many soft bowers, well-worn branchings, the hill caves and oft-used burrows and hollow dead trunks, and bade them come.

  Draught scratched lazily at a favorite stump and rolled his eyes.

  “I am too tired and hungry today.”

  Ple-um the Spotted and swift Tassalay both had mates who were with cub.

  Chaugh listened to all, and countered.

  “Man-sister needs you.”

  Draught and Ple-um and swift Tassalay came.

  Jukakhan went to the broad, flat places and spoke to the brothers. Eventually he came even unto Shavarham, Lord of the Great Pride, who sat in the sun and pawed uncertainly at the d
ry earth and grass. He was nearly as big as Jukakhan and his hesitant voice even deeper.

  “This is not a thing ere done afore.”

  Jukakhan replied, “Man-sister needs you.”

  Shavarham roused the Pride.

  Ohoh darted and passed among the tree folk and for once there was purpose and direction among them instead of scrapping and argument.

  “Man-sister needs you!”

  The witch doctor’s blade touched the back of the perfect neck, through the flowing black hair . . . and stopped.

  A single snarl, bell-like and menacing, echoed through the village. Somewhere a titan was clearing its throat. The witch-men looked around nervously. If it had been quiet before, now all was silent as the Styx.

  From his raised throne of skulls and bone, the Wanderi chief glanced uneasily from side to side. Even Isabel was startled out of her screaming.

  “What was . . . that?” she whispered. “They’ve stopped.”

  “It sounded like several big cats, growling in unison,” Barrett muttered, trying to see over the high cane stockade. “Funny—what do you hear?”

  Emptiness of deep space, null music of the harmonious void.

  “Nothing,” she answered.

  “Right. Not a bird, not a monkey—nothing!”

  There was a second snarl from the unseen feline choir. The witch doctor lowered his arm and began to back slowly towards the imagined safety of the throne. The crowd of villagers looked unsurely from one to another. Their solid, painted ranks began to flow and stir.

  The second call, though, was answered.

  From inside the village.

  Luana threw back her head and let out a full-throated scream any she-leopard would have been proud of. Even Barrett, who’d half been expecting something of the sort, jerked in his bonds. It was answered.

  From the opposite side of the village, this time.

  Another rolling, booming reply, from the north, and two more from the village south, near the main gate, and a whole basso and tenor barrage from the eastern jungle. In minutes the village was surrounded by moanings and roars and thunderous snarls, like Heaven with the army of Satan at its gates.

  The chief suddenly stood and raised his club, shouting orders. It was an impressive, brave gesture, and had its calculated effect. The still nervous tribesmen relaxed slightly, settling in their places. The witch doctor raised the white blade and moved forward again.

  He never reached her.

  Through the main gate to the south, through the cane wall on the north, over the low western stockade, and through the very huts themselves on the east, the feline host poured upon them. Lion and leopard, cheetah and panther swarmed into the enclosure.

  Some of the Wanderi were so thoroughly paralyzed by the unnatural assault that they remained frozen in place. They died early. Others ran shrieking for the imagined protection of their huts, only to be run down and torn to pieces by two or three of the great cats.

  A few warriors with presence of mind dashed desperately for their spears and blowguns and shields—only to find them gone. Ohoh and the rest of the tree folk had come scrambling in over the rooftops and gathered such weapons up. Now they stood on the rooftops or in the overhanging branches, shaking precious spears and war clubs and knives at the frantic men below while jeering excitedly at the continuing carnage.

  It was a spectacle worthy of ancient Rome, only the scenario was reversed. The lions had allied themselves with the martyrs and turned on the audience.

  Barrett felt a sudden slight breeze at his back and his hands fell free. Another, lower down, and he was stumbling forward on weak ankles. Turning, he saw an impossibly big male lion take a casual swipe at Albright’s bonds, then another, and the scientist too was freed. Another centimeter closer, Barrett reflected, and the big cat could just as easily have removed his hands instead of the rope. He tried to rub some circulation back into his wrists, fighting the pins and needles.

  Chaugh didn’t even bother with the elaborate, thick knots binding Luana. He simply gripped the wood just back of each binding place in his powerful jaws and bit down. The poles snapped like matchsticks.

  “Come,” she ordered, having to shout to be heard over the hellish cacophony. “We’ll go back to camp for the rest of your supplies. Then we can go on to the plane.”

  “Again?” said Isabel wonderingly. “I hate to give up—so close after so long! But hadn’t we better run like hell back the way we came?”

  Barrett glanced back over his shoulder as they jogged out of the village. No Wanderi tried to stop them. At least two hundred big cats were loose in the compound. He moved closer to Isabel.

  “I think Luana means to say that the Wanderi—what’s left of them—will not be in shape to chase anyone for quite a while.”

  “Then it appears,” Albright put in, puffing with the unaccustomed exertion, “that thanks to dear Luana we may reach the plane after all!” The chemist saw no point in arguing for a retreat. That had been tried before and failed. Harping on that line, especially now, could only provoke suspicion.

  “No thanks to me,” she replied, “but all to these two.” She indicated Chaugh and Jukakhan. They’d left the destruction to others and joined them. “And to Ohoh.”

  She looked momentarily puzzled and searched the ground around them. Then her gaze rose. She saw her three animals in the trees now, moving away from the village. Luana doubled over in laughter. Barrett, Isabel, Albright, Kobenene, and Murin had to halt also. When they finally located what she was looking at, even the scientist couldn’t supress a chuckle.

  Ohoh swung in the tree above them, carrying a Wanderi war club and dripping crushed feathers from the once lovely headdress of the Wanderi chief.

  Behind them, the army of cats, without Chaugh and Jukakhan to give purpose and direction and meaning to their work, began to revert to their natural state. They squabbled and scrapped among themselves. Soon, in groups and twos and singly, they began to split and leave the village.

  Unsurprisingly their retreat went uncontested.

  Chapter X

  They reformed themselves the next day for another try at the plane. Barrett’s toughest task, after calming the frantic bearers who’d remained in camp, was deciding what to leave behind and what to throw away.

  It was doubly painful for someone used to figuring budgets to the penny, but there was nothing to be done about it. Half their men were gone. If anything, now was the time to travel light and not burden themselves with luxuries and unnecessary material.

  He’d made the formality of asking Isabel whether she wanted anything particular saved. Barrett needn’t have worried. She couldn’t have cared less if they’d dumped everything. So Barrett was able to proceed with the redistribution of the load with a clear conscience. Only his own sense of thrift was outraged.

  More importantly, seven of their nine rifles had been lost. The superstitious Wanderi had destroyed them that first, terrible night. Despite Luana’s assurances that the witch-men would give them no trouble, he would have felt better with the rifles back. Only he and Murin had brought spare guns. Murin’s telescopic .470 automatic would have to serve for general use, and he still had the Express.

  While those two ought to stand them in good stead against assorted bellicose fauna, they’d be of little use if the Wanderi ever pulled themselves together again. Not, he reflected wryly, that the loose weapons had been any good in staving off that first assault.

  They took everything that could be easily carried and destroyed the rest. Even Isabel was fitted with a small pack. Barrett was damned if he’d let the witch-men amble out and help themselves to the big tents, for example. And there was no point in trying to bury or otherwise hide them. They might not be returning by the same route. If Barrett had his way, they’d circle far to the south on the march back. Splitting the troop in half again to have the luxury of a permanent base camp was, of course, out of the question now.

  The hike to the plane was uneventful, but Barre
tt still got little sleep the one night they camped. The brush with disaster had been too close. He found himself spinning in his bedroll at every sound, every falling twig, every clicking insect. He hadn’t done that in many years.

  His nervousness continued despite Luana’s presence and the sure knowledge that she’d detect anything dangerous long before he would, continued despite Ohoh’s aerial reconnaissance and the two big cats flanking them on either side.

  After all they’d been through, Barrett thought that the actual finding of the wreck would prove anticlimatic. Instead he found himself feeling a little thrill when they topped the slight rise before the river and first saw the rusting hulk.

  Vines and creepers had found the broken right wing and battered tail a firm anchorage. Birds had made the hollow places under the wings and tail look almost natural with small bowers and nests. Mice lodged in the fuselage, and from a hole in the base of the tail an old mongoose regarded their approach with curious stare and the smile of a Chinese philosopher.

  Barrett barely had time to shout a warning about snakes and rusty old slivers of metal before Isabel had sped past him towards the wreck. He followed hurriedly and helped her up into the slanted cabin. In the excitement, no one noticed Albright and Kobenene’s lack of same.

  Those two put their own packs aside, while the bearers stacked packs and cases and began trying to arrange a much reduced camp.

  Barrett followed her into the plane, with Murin close on his heels. The inside, as expected, was a shambles. Remnants of stains on the floor and control board had been mercifully obscured by rust and time.

  The pilot’s seat was twisted half out of the floor, the bolts holding it to the metal broken or bent. Luana pulled herself in and watched them curiously. She’d been here many times.

  She pointed out her neatly stacked collection of books in the back of the cabin, behind the rear seats. They’d been wrapped in big leaves to help retard rot and were suspended by thin wires drawn from the plane’s ruined engine to minimize their accessibility to insects.