Kur of Gor (36 page)

"What is this about?” asked Cabot.

"Many Kurii,” said Peisistratus, “want her blood. She is held accountable for the debacle in the forest, that of the hunting party of Lord Arcesilaus. In it, you may recall, Kurii were slain."

"I recall,” said Cabot.

"Grendel has refused to sell her to those who wish her harm,” said Peisistratus.

"Harm?” said Cabot.

"—to those who would kill her with needles, a corpuscle at a time, who would inject her with slow, agonizing poisons, who would feed her to urts or sleen, who would cast her to leech plants, who would roast her alive and eat her, and so on."

"I see,” said Cabot.

"He has been offered more strings of coins than you and I would part with for a good slave."

"And she only a pet."

"Precisely."

"It seems he is fond of his pet,” said Cabot.

"He is a fool,” said Peisistratus. “He will now die."

"I gather he must now, if he wishes to keep her, or save her, defend her?"

"Assuredly,” said Peisistratus. “And the crowd is against him."

"How is this to be done?” asked Cabot.

"He is to face seven challengers,” said Peisistratus, “any one of whom might easily slay him, for they are Kur."

"Is he not Kur?"

"Part Kur."

"Perhaps,” said Cabot, “he is more than Kur."

"When the combat is done,” said Peisistratus, “the girl will be taken by the challengers, to be done with as they intend."

"If they win,” said Cabot.

"Can there be doubt?” asked Peisistratus.

"The fortunes of war, like the rains in Anango, are difficult to forecast,” said Cabot.

"I will wager a string of coins,” said Peisistratus, “on the challengers."

"Against what?” inquired Cabot. “My life?"

"Certainly not,” said Peisistratus. “Besides, your life, at this point, is still of interest to Agamemnon."

"A slender security,” remarked Cabot.

"You would know more of that than I,” said Peisistratus.

"So what should I put up, against your coins?"

"One of your strings of rubies,” suggested Peisistratus.

"A string of coins against a string of rubies seems a strange wager,” smiled Cabot.

"True,” said Peisistratus. “I shall make it a dozen strings of coins, and throw in a pet."

"A pet?"

"The brunette."

"Keep her,” said Cabot.

"Is it a wager?” asked Peisistratus.

"I think you are more aware of the value of rubies,” said Cabot, “than I am of the value of your coins."

"Perhaps,” smiled Peisistratus. “But is it a wager?"

"Very well,” said Cabot. “It is a wager."

"It is a pity to take your rubies so easily,” said Peisistratus.

"The challengers!” said Cabot, pointing downward.

From a gate at the level of the sand below and to their right, seven large Kurii, harnessed for war, entered the arena. Each carried a long, thick, metal bar, some ten feet in length, some three inches in diameter. Such an implement would have been difficult for many humans to lift, let alone wield. Kurii, however, might play with such a device as with a wand, or as a brawny peasant might with his stout, well-grasped defensive staff, a punishing implement which, well used, might overcome a blade.

The crowd stamped, roared, leaped about in place, and smote its thighs, expressing its pleasure with the number and harnessing of the challengers. Indeed, some of the challengers were well known to the crowd, from ascendancies in the rings, and more than one was accounted a champion.

The challengers turned about in the sand and lifted their simple weapons in salute to the crowd, which incited still more approbation in the tiers.

"Is Grendel to be unarmed?” asked Cabot.

"You now fear for your rubies?” asked Peisistratus.

"Is he to be unarmed?"

"No,” said Peisistratus, “that would not be Kur, that would not be honorable."

"Look!” said Cabot.

An additional bar was handed to one of the challengers, by an arena praetor, or officer. That challenger then thrust his own bar down, into the sand, some four feet, with a mighty motion, and then, contemptuously, hurled the bar he had been given by the officer toward Grendel. It descended like a lance, and was arrested, tilted, in the sand, before Grendel. The cast had been more than a hundred and fifty feet.

Grendel bent to retrieve the weapon.

Amusement coursed through the crowd.

"See,” said Peisistratus. “He is only part Kur. It is too heavy for him. He can barely lift it. Fear for your rubies, friend Cabot."

Cabot smiled.

One of the Kur challengers roared and raced across the sand toward Grendel, his weapon held with two hands over his head.

Many humans find it remarkable that so large a creature can move with such rapidity.

Cabot was familiar with such characteristics, of course, and so, too, one might note, was Grendel.

The blonde screamed.

The noise of the crowd was suddenly silenced.

For the challenger, its chest bloodied, staggered back, and then sat, dazed, stupidly, in the sand.

One end of Grendel's bar was soaked with blood, for better than eighteen inches from its thrusting end.

"The swiftness of the thrust, the suddenness, the ease of it!” exclaimed Peisistratus, wonderingly.

"He is as strong as a Kur,” said Cabot, “perhaps stronger."

"It was a trick,” said Peisistratus, reproachfully.

"Surely deception,” said Cabot, “is an element not unknown in war."

"The others will now be more wary,” said Peisistratus.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"And the rubies,” said Peisistratus, “will soon be mine."

"It is hard to predict the rains in Anango,” said Cabot.

"That it will rain in the summer is not hard to predict, in one week or another,” said Peisistratus.

"In seven weeks?"

"Yes,” said Peisistratus.

"May not the challengers attack
en masse
?” inquired Cabot.

"That would not be Kur,” said Peisistratus. “That would not be honorable."

"Good,” said Cabot.

The next Kur approached cautiously, his weapon at the ready. Grendel came forward, to place himself between the pet and his antagonist.

The crowd now leaned forward, intent upon the sand.

The matches were now of greater interest than had been anticipated.

The second challenger struck downward with his weapon, and Grendel fended the blow but in such a way as not to take the brunt of its weight, but rather to slide it aside. There was, however, nonetheless, a shower of sparks. The blonde cried out, and pulled back on her chain, it hooked to her collar.

"The beating on the bar,” said Cabot, “would in time weaken the arms of he who blocks the blows, surely by the third or fourth attacker."

There were several more exchanges, each with its shower of sparks. The challenger then stepped back in the sand.

Grendel did not pursue him.

He wished, doubtless, to remain in the vicinity of the pet, lest the attacker might the more easily slip past him. The goal of the attackers was primarily the blood of the pet, to revenge themselves upon her, however irrationally, to which object the destruction of her despised defender was largely incidental.

Grendel and the second attacker then, some yards apart, crouched down, watching one another.

Cabot could see the movements of the lungs of the two beasts.

The attacker then began to groom itself, not taking his eyes off Grendel.

They remained so, almost motionless, for several minutes.

The crowd was silent, and patient. Kurii, when hunting, are very patient.

The attacker then roared and rushed forward, and, as it advanced, but feet from Grendel, Grendel setting himself to accept the charge, the attacker suddenly twisted to the side and, with one clawed foot, swept a great storm of sand toward Grendel, a blasting flight of particles that might have stunned and blinded a tharlarion. But Grendel who had anticipated this device hurled himself to the sand below this flighted granular torrent, and swept his bar across the sand, striking the now-again-turned attacker frontally across the legs, some inches above the ankles, and the attacker, with a bellow of agony, fell forward into the sand, its legs shattered, as the sand fell about Grendel and his pet, descending even onto the cement platform, and striking about the pet's back and shoulders, and coating her hair and eyelashes. Grendel then rose to his feet, slowly, deliberately, and, as the crippled attacker watched, and lifted his arms to defend himself, Grendel struck down with his bar, shattering through the fending arms, and breaking the head open as one might have beaten a hammer into a crusted larma. He then went, deliberately, to the first attacker, who sat helplessly in the sand, and punched through his skull with the bar.

"He is Kur,” breathed Peisistratus.

"Or human,” said Cabot.

Grendel then turned to regard the five remaining challengers.

There was a roar of anger from the stands.

"The crowd is displeased,” said Cabot.

"Not with Grendel!” cried Peisistratus. “Observe!"

Four of the five remaining challengers were advancing together.

"It is, I gather, not Kur,” said Cabot.

"No,” said Peisistratus. “It is not Kur."

The crowd was howling with rage, but the four continued to advance, and began to spread themselves about, to encircle Grendel, and he could not, of course, defend the pet on more than one side.

She was screaming, and, with her small hands, jerking wildly at the chain. This was futile, of course, as it had been decided that she would remain in place. In Gorean arenas, beautiful female slaves are commonly awarded as prizes to the victors. They are usually chained in place, to await their disposition, pending the outcome of the contest. In the current instance, of course, it was the very blood of the female that was sought.

"The rubies are now mine,” said Peisistratus, angrily.

"Consider the rains in Anango,” said Cabot.

"Do not be foolish,” chided Peisistratus.

Grendel suddenly left the vicinity of the pet on its chain moving with great speed toward the nearest of the attackers, it unwisely now, too eager, some yards in advance of the others. There were movements of the weapons but they did not make contact. The foremost attacker's bar struck down into the sand, and Grendel was then behind it and he thrust his weapon into the abdomen of his foe, and literally lifted the Kur from the sand, impaled, and flung his body from the weapon.

"He is strong even for a Kur!” cried Peisistratus.

"He is more than Kur!” cried Cabot.

At the same moment another of the Kurii rushed toward the pet, who screamed, his bar lifted, to strike down, but Grendel spun about and flung his weapon almost as might a lesser creature have hurled a javelin, and it struck he who threatened the blonde in the back, emerging through his chest, and his bar fell ringing on the cement to the left of the terrified pet. At the same time, a side stroke from a bar struck Grendel on the left arm, and the arm jerked, useless, for the moment paralyzed. Grendel scrambled toward the cement platform, to retrieve a weapon, his or the fallen bar of he who would have smote the pet. But there lunged between him and his goal another of the attackers, his weapon raised.

Grendel crouched on the sand.

The blonde pulled back to the length of her chain.

"He does not see the attacker behind him!” said Peisistratus.

"He sees the shadow,” said Cabot. “He knows! He sees the shadow!"

"Why does he not move?” demanded Peisistratus.

"It is not yet time,” said Cabot.

"The shadow is gone!” said Peisistratus.

"The mirrors have been changed,” said Cabot. “Not every foe, it seems, is on the sand."

"Grendel dares not turn his back,” said Peisistratus.

Had he done so the foe between him and the pet might have struck.

"He need not do so,” said Cabot. “Again they underestimate him."

"How so?” said Peisistratus, grasping the bars, looking down to the sand.

"His hearing,” said Cabot. “It is that of the Kur."

Whatever the clue might have been, a pressing of a paw into the sand to gain leverage for a blow, an intake of breath prior to striking, a tiny sound of harness, perhaps even the slick, shifting of a grip, to take advantage of a less-moist, drier surface, Grendel threw himself to the side and the mighty bar plunged a foot into the sand beside him. He then leapt up, turned, and seized the startled Kur who had struck at him and swung him about before him, to interpose him between himself and the attacker in the vicinity of the platform, who had quickly sped forward, but now stopped, angrily, the bar lifted.

"Why does he not strike?” asked Peisistratus.

"He needs a clean blow,” said Cabot. “If the weapon is stopped, by sand, by the body of the other, it might be seized by Grendel."

"He could decapitate both with one blow,” said Peisistratus.

"Grendel might,” said Cabot. “But I do not think it could be done by a common Kur."

Grendel's left arm, slowly, surely, doubtless with considerable pain to himself, encircled the throat of the Kur he held, and he drew back a mighty fist, and this fist, with a blow that might have felled a tharlarion, he drove into the back of the Kur's neck, better than two inches, breaking the skull away from the vertebrae. He then cast aside the limp body of his former antagonist and turned to face the sixth challenger, the last of the four who had advanced together.

The seventh challenger had not interfered, but had remained crouched, with his weapon, near the far wall, near the gate through which he and the others had originally entered.

The sixth challenger now moved about Grendel, circling, who, weaponless, unwilling to reach for a weapon, and thus expose himself for a blow, turned, crouching, to keep his foe before him.

The challenger was then again between Grendel and the pet.

It was clearly unwilling to turn and attack the pet, for that would expose it to Grendel's attack.

They then crouched in the sand and faced one another, some four or five yards apart.