Vagabonds of Gor

10 Morale is High

"Lie still," said the fellow crouching next to me.

I shuddered, lying in the sand. The reaction was uncontrollable, involuntary, reflexive.

"Still," he said. He held the bit of rence stalk, still smoking from the fire, to one of the creatures on my back. I could feel it pulling out of my skin. He then picked it from my back, dropping it to the side, with others.

I did not know how much blood I had lost, though I suppose, objectively, it was not much. How much can one of those creatures, even given the hideous distention of its digestive cavity, hold? Yet there had been many during the day. Many had released their hold themselves.

"That is the last one," observed the fellow, turning me about.

"My thanks," I said.

He had removed, by my count, eleven of the creatures. He had put them to the side. There are various ways in which they may be encouraged to draw out, not tearing the skin. The two most common are heat and salt. It is not wise, once they have succeeded in catching hold, to apply force to them. In this fashion, too often part of the creature is left in the body, a part, or parts, which must then be removed with a knife or similar tool.

"Bring a torch, here!" I heard a fellow call.

I was again, as was done with me at night, tethered between mooring stakes, my ankles to one, my neck to another. My wrists were held behind me, in the manacles.

"Friend," I said.

"I am not your friend," said he. "I am your enemy." He stood up, discarding the smoking rence.

"Call your officer to me," I said. "I would speak with him."

"That is for your keeper to do," said he, "not me."

"Ho!" called a fellow from a few yards away. "Look!"

"Kill it!" cried a fellow, joyfully.

"Here, help me!" said another. I heard the sounds of two or three men.

"What is it?" I asked, turning in the sand, looking up.

"It is a marsh turtle, a large one," said the fellow, "come up on the bar."

"Why would it do that?" I asked. "There are men here, many of them."

"Now they have it confused, with fire and spears," reported the man, standing beside me. "It does not know which way to turn"."

"Why is it not retreating to the water?" I asked, alarmed.

"It does not know which way to turn," he said. "They have it surrounded now. It is not moving now, it is in its shell now!"

"Together, men!" I heard.

There was a hissing sound, the grunting of men.

"They have it on its back now," said the fellow, pleased. "For once we shall eat well in the delta."

"Why has it come up on the bar, with men here!" I said. I felt suddenly very helpless in the manacles, the ropes.

"I do not understand," he said.

"Beware!" I said, pulling at the manacles. "Beware!"

"Aiii!" cried a fellow, a few yards away.

"It is gigantic!" cried the fellow near me. I heard a hideous hissing, a thrashing in the sand. Men parted between us and the creature. I struggled up a few inches, turning my head. Moving toward us, dripping, was a gigantic, short-legged, long-bodied tharlarion. Its tail snapped to one side, scattering sand.

"Fire!" I screamed. "Torches!"

The opening of its long, narrow jaws may have been as much as five foot Gorean.

"Torches!" cried the fellow with me.

"It wants the meat," I said. "Drive it away! That is why the turtle came to the bar. It was fleeing!"

The tharlarion looked about, its body lifted off the sand, its tail moving.

A fellow rushed toward it, thrusting a lit torch into the jaws. The beast hissed with fury, drawing back. Then another fellow threatened it with a torch, and then another. The beast lowered its body to the sand and then, pushing back in the sand, backed away.

"More fire!" cried a fellow.

Men rushed forward, with torches, and spears. Suddenly the beast slid back into the water, and, with a snap of its tail, turned and disappeared, beyond the ring of torchlight.

"It is gone," said the fellow near me.

"They fear fire," said a man.

"Keep torches lit," said a fellow.

"Feast!" called a fellow. "Feast!"

"Build up the fire!" called another.

"Slay the turtle!" called another.

"It is done!" said a fellow.

There was much good cheer then in the camp.

I lay neglected in the darkness, naked, in the manacles, between two stakes, helpless.

After a time my keeper, chewing, came near to me. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Tomorrow we will close with your fellows," he said. "Tomorrow glorious Ar will have her vengeance."

"I would speak with your officer," I said.

"The rence craft is rotted," he said. "It would not last tomorrow."

I was silent. I wondered if he had ever considered the oddity of the deterioration of the rence, in only days. I supposed not. He was not of the delta. He might think there was nothing unusual about it.

"I have made arrangements for our group to share a three-log raft," he said.

"I am hungry," I said.

"The raft is heavy," he said. "There are two poles only."

"Feed me," I said.

"We will want a draft beast," he said.

"I am hungry," I said.

"We will arrange a harness for you," he said.

"I am hungry," I said.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. I could smell the turtle. I could hear the good humor, the jokes, of the men.

I turned my head away.

"Eat," said he, "spying sleen of Cos."

I regarded him.

"It is food fit for spies," said he, laughing. "Eat," he said.

I opened my mouth and he put one of the leeches into it.

"Eat," he said.

Later he forced another leech into my mouth and waited until I had eaten it. He then took the remaining leeches and, with a shiver of disgust, with two hands, hurled them out from the bar, into the water.

"Sleep well, sleen," said he. He then left.

I lay there for a time, hearing the joviality of the men on the bar. Morale this night was high among them.

I rose up a bit and turned my head, looking toward the water. Some torches were fixed there, at intervals, near the water's edge. Beyond them the marsh was dark. I then lay back, and, after a time, slept.