The Sword & Sorcery Anthology (27 page)

(“You old villain!” whispered Edarra. “We made it!”)

But that’s another story.

CHARLES R. SAUNDERS

T
he
banks
of
the
K
ambi
R
iver
were low and misty, crowded with
waterbucks and wading birds and trees draped in green skeins of
moss. Dossouye, once an
ahosi
—a woman soldier of the Kingdom of
Abomey—rode toward the Kambi.

Slowly the
ahosi
guided her war-bull to the riverbank. She knew
the Kambi flowed through Mossi, a sparsely populated kingdom
bordering Abomey. Between the few cities of Mossi stretched miles
of uninhabited bushland speckled with clumps of low-growing trees.
Dossouye watched sunlight sparkle through veils of humid mist rising
from the Kambi.

“Gbo—stop,” she commanded when the war-bull came to the
edge of the river. At the sight of the huge, horned mount, the birds
fled in multicolored clouds and the waterbucks stampeded for the
protection of the trees.

The war-bull halted. Dossouye gazed across the lazily flowing
river. “What do we do now, Gbo?” she murmured. “Cross the river, or
continue along the bank?”

The war-bull snorted and shook its curving horns. In size and
form, Dossouye’s mount differed little from the wild buffalo from
which its ancestors had been bred generations ago. Although the
savage disposition of its forebears was controllable now, a war-bull
was still as much weapon as mount. Dossouye had named hers
“Gbo,” meaning “protection.”

With a fluid motion, the
ahosi
dismounted. Her light leather
armor stuck uncomfortably to her skin. Days had passed since her
last opportunity to bathe. Glancing along the banks of the Kambi, she
saw no creature larger than a dragonfly. The prospect of immersing
herself in the warm depths of the Kambi hastened her decision.

“We will cross the river, Gbo,” she said, speaking as though the
beast could understand her words. “But first, we’ll enjoy ourselves!”

So saying, she peeled the leather armor from her tall, lean
frame and laid it on the riverbank alongside her sword, shield, and
spear. Knowing Gbo would also prefer to swim unencumbered, she
removed the war-bull’s saddle and bridle.

Naked, she was all sinew and bone, with only a suggestion of
breast and hip. Her skin gleamed like indigo satin, black as the hide
of her war-bull. When she pulled off her close-fitting helmet, her hair
sprung outward in a kinky mane.

She waded into the warm water. Gbo plunged in ahead of her,
sending spumes of the Kambi splashing into her face. Laughing,
Dossouye dove deeper into the river. The water flowed clear enough
for her to see the silvery scales of fish darting away from her sudden
intrusion. Dossouye surfaced, gulped air, and resubmerged, diving
toward the weed-carpeted floor of the Kambi. When her feet touched
bottom, she kicked upward to the bright surface. Suddenly she felt a
nudge at her shoulder, gentle yet possessed of sufficient force to send
her spinning sideways.

For a moment, Dossouye panicked, her lungs growing empty of air.
Then she saw a huge, dark bulk floating at her side.
Gbo!
she realized.
Shifting in the water, she hovered over the war-bull’s back. Then
she grasped his horns and urged him toward the surface. With an
immense surge of power, Gbo shot upward, nearly tearing his horns
from Dossouye’s grip.

In a sun-dazzling cascade, they broke the surface. Still clinging to
the war-bull’s horns, Dossouye laughed. For the first time, she felt free
of the burden of melancholy she had borne since her bitter departure
from Abomey. Lazily she stretched across the length of Gbo’s back as
the war-bull began to wade shoreward.

Abruptly Gbo stiffened. Dossouye felt a warning tremor course
through the giant muscles beneath her. Blinking water from her
eyes, she looked toward the bank—and her own thews tensed as
tautly as Gbo’s.

There were two men on the riverbank. Armed men, mounted
on horses. The spears of the intruders were leveled at Dossouye and
Gbo. The men were clad in flowing trousers of black silk-cotton.
Turbans of the same material capped their heads. Above the waist,
they wore only brass-studded baldrics to which curved Mossi swords
were sheathed. Along with their swords, they carried long-bladed
spears and round shields of rhinoceros hide bossed with iron.

One rider was bearded, the other smooth-chinned. In their
narrow, umber faces, Dossouye discerned few other differences. Their
dark eyes stared directly into hers. They sat poised in their saddles
like beasts of prey regarding a victim.

Dossouye knew the horsemen for what they were:
daju
, footloose
armsmen who sometimes served as mercenaries, though they were
more often marauding thieves. The
daju
roamed like packs of wild
dogs through the empty lands between the insular Mossi cities.

Through luck and skill, Dossouye had until now managed to avoid
unwelcome encounters with the
daju
. Now...she had run out of luck.
Her weapons and armor lay piled behind the horsemen.

Her face framed by Gbo’s horns, Dossouye lay motionless, sunlight
gemming the water beaded on her bare skin. The two
daju
smiled....

Dossouye pressed her knees against Gbo’s back. Slowly the war-bull
waded up the incline of the riverbottom. The bearded
daju
spoke
sharply, his Mossi words meaningless to Dossouye. But the eloquence of
the accompanying gesture he made with his spear was compelling. His
companion raised his own weapon, cocking his elbow for an instant cast.

Gbo continued to advance. Dossouye flattened on his back,
tension visible in the long, smooth muscles of her back and thighs.
As the war-bull drew closer, the bearded
daju
repeated his gesture.
This time he spoke in slurred but recognizable Abomean, demanding
that Dossouye dismount immediately.

Whispering a command, Dossouye poked a toe into Gbo’s right
flank. Together they moved with an explosive swiftness that bewil
dered even the cunning
daju
.

Hoofs churning in the mud of the bank the war-bull shouldered
between the startled horses. Then Gbo whirled to the left, horned
head swinging like a giant’s bludgeon and smashing full into the
flank of the bearded
daju
’s mount. Shrieking in an almost human
tone, the horse collapsed, blood spouting from a pair of widely
spaced punctures. Though the
daju
hurled himself clear when his
horse fell, he landed clumsily and lay half-stunned while Gbo gored
his screaming, kicking steed.

At the beginning of Gbo’s charge, Dossouye had slid downward
from the war-bull’s back. When Gbo hit the
daju
’s horse, she clung
briefly to her mount’s flank, fingers and toes her only purchase against
water-slick hide. Dossouye was gambling, hoping the unexpected attack
would unnerve the
daju
sufficiently long for her to reach a weapon.

When the horse crashed to the ground, Dossouye leaped free,
hitting the riverbank lightly like a cat pouncing from a tree. Her
luck returned; the second
daju
’s horse was rearing and pawing the air
uncontrollably, its rider cursing as he hauled savagely on the reins. A
swift scan showed Dossouye that nothing stood between her and her
weapons. As she darted toward them, she shouted another command
over her shoulder to Gbo.

Hoofbeats drummed behind her. Still running, Dossouye snatched
up her spear. Then she whirled to face the onrushing
daju
.

The beardless warrior charged recklessly, Mossi oaths spilling from
his lips. Without hesitation, Dossouye drew back her arm and hurled
her weapon full into the breast of the oncoming horse. Though the
distance of the cast was not great, the power of the
ahosi
’s whiplike
arm drove the spearpoint deep into the flesh of the
daju
’s steed. In
the fraction of a moment she’d had to decide, Dossouye had chosen
the larger target. Had she aimed at the man, he could have dodged or
deflected the spear, then easily slain her.

With a shrill neigh of pain, the horse pitched to its knees. The
sudden stop sent the
daju
hurtling through the air. He landed only
a few paces from Dossouye. As the
ahosi
bent to retrieve her sword,
she thought she saw a bright yellow flash, a spark of sunlight from
something that flew from the
daju
’s body when he fell.

Dossouye’s curiosity concerning that flash was only momentary.
To save her life now, she must move as swiftly as ever on an Abomean
battlefield. Sword hilt firmly in hand, she reached the fallen
daju
in two
catlike bounds. His spear had flown from his hand—he was struggling
frantically to pull his sword from its scabbard when Dossouye’s point
penetrated the base of his skull, killing him instantly.

Turning from the
daju
’s corpse, Dossouye surveyed the scene of
sudden slaughter. The horse she’d speared had joined its rider in
death. Its own fall had driven Dossouye’s spearpoint into its heart.
The bearded
daju
’s steed was also dead, blood still leaking from gaping
horn wounds.

The bearded
daju
lay face-down in the mud. Gbo stood over him,
one red-smeared horn pressing against the marauder’s back. The
daju
trembled visibly, as if he realized he lived only because of the com
mand Dossouye had earlier flung at the war-bull. Because the
daju
spoke Abomean Dossouye wished to question him. Without the
ahosi
’s
word, Gbo would have trampled the man into an unrecognizable pulp.

Like a great, lean panther, Dossouye stalked toward the prone
daju
.
Anger burned hot within her; the high spirits she had allowed herself
earlier were gone now, leaving her emotions as naked as her body.
Reaching Gbo, Dossouye stroked his side and murmured words of
praise in his ear. Once again, the war-bull had lived up to the meaning
of his name. Dossouye spoke another command, and Gbo lifted his
horn from the
daju
’s back...but only slightly. When the man attempted
to rise, his spine bumped against Gbo’s horn. Instantly he dropped
back into the mire. He managed to turn his head sufficiently far to
gaze one-eyed at the
ahosi
standing grimly at the side of her mount.

“Spare...me,” the
daju
croaked.

Snorting in contempt, Dossouye knelt next to the
daju
’s head.

“Where are the rest of your dogs?” she demanded. “From what
I’ve heard, you
daju
travel in packs.”

“Only...Mahadu and me,” the
daju
replied haltingly. “Please...
where is the
moso
? Mahadu had it....”

“What is a ‘
moso
’?”

“
Moso
is...small figure...cast from brass. Very valuable...will share...
with you.”

“I know exactly what you wanted to ‘share’ with me!” snapped
Dossouye. Then she remembered the bright reflection she had spotted
when the beardless
daju
fell from his horse. Valuable?

“I saw no ‘
moso
,’” she said. “Now I’m going to tell my war-bull to
step away from you. Then I want you to get up and run. Do not look
back; do not even think about recovering your weapons. I want you
out of my sight very quickly. Understand?”