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Moeller sipped his glass of Chilean wine and considered what he had been told by the female adventurer. He was sure that she had told him the truth, but what she had revealed was of little use to him. Even the detailed instructions relating to the location of the Lost World were of little help. It would take almost a miracle for any expedition to stumble across the hidden entrance and once there finding some obscure mineral deposit deep in the thick forests of the mysterious land.
It seemed that kidnapping
However, first things first. It
was time to have a little bit of fun.
He got to his feet and stepped out of his
room. Collecting his escort he
headed for what he liked to euphemistically call his guest
quarters. He had not returned
the Indian girl to the same room where the big black girl was being held,
but had placed her in a room of her own.
According to Helga she seemed to be recovering remarkably well considering
that she had been gang-raped for over two hours before
Lisha paced in her prison. It was a luxurious prison, but a prison all the same. Born a princess of the Ullabomba she was used to luxury even if some of the devices she encountered in Larra’s world amazed her. Some, like guns, she could do without even if Larra and her other companions carried them. Others like hot showers and the ability to fly through the air like a bird had her hearty approval, even if she did think that there was a certain element of witchcraft associated with them.
Ayashe had been gone more than a day now, as measured by the meals the little
grey-haired woman brought. She
was becoming more and more concerned that something had been done to her
much smaller companion. Strange
as it was, she was the only one of Larra’s entourage that Lisha had
truly bonded with. The two were
quite dissimilar in more than just their physical
characteristics. Although somewhat
barbaric in her mental outlook, Lisha was royalty and was used to command,
whereas Lisha was a simple Métis girl, born in the wilds of
To her disappointment, and consternation Ayashe was not with the squad of men who opened the door. None of them were familiar, but one of them who she took to be the leader stepped forward. “Where Ayashe?” Lisha demanded, her fists clenched. She stepped menacingly forward.
Not surprisingly, since he was accompanied by four heavily armed guards, the man seemed unafraid. He stepped closer and stared up at her. “My, you are magnificent aren’t you? A real trophy. To answer your question, your friend, Ayashe is just a few doors away. She is in quite good health and will stay that way provided you cooperate with me.”
Lisha found the man’s language confusing, but she got the gist of it. “What you want?”
“Very simply, I want you, but not quite in the way you think.”
Ayashe glared spearpoints at the man. She had lost her honour in a brutal rape and now this man seemed to be threatening the same sort of thing. All that held her back was the implied threat against Ayashe and the fact that she could not help find Larra if she was dead. And so she waited to hear what the man had to say.
“I am a bit of a hunter,” the man explained. “As a matter of fact I have made a point of killing at least one of the major big game animals from every continent. Sadly, now that I have accomplished that feat there remains only one more thing to hunt.”
Lisha’s command of English might had been rudimentary, but she was not lacking in intelligence. “You hunt people.”
“Only those I find challenging.
And you offer a special challenge, one that I was going to offer your
mentor.” Seeing Lisha’s
puzzled look the man elaborated.
“I had intended to hunt the great
Lisha had a hard time holding herself in check. “What you do to Larra?” Her manner was so menacing that the man took a step back and the guards tightened their fingers on the triggers of their weapons.
“I was afraid of this,” the man said. “Bring in the American.”
There was a delay of a couple of minutes during which Lisha simply stood and glared at her guests. Even though the man who had spoken to her was within reach of one of her powerful arms the others were at a respectful distance and any attempt to attack any of them would have seen her go down in a hail of bullets, so she held her piece and waited.
The wait ended when Katie was ushered through the door. Her ordeal on board the ship had left its mark on her, but to Lisha’s relief the American girl seemed to have recovered from the worst of the savage attack. Katie looked at her, clearly happy to see her friend in good health, but said nothing.
“It appears we have a bit of a communication problem, Miss Reddel. I would like you to explain the situation to your companion.”
Katie nodded. It appeared that she did not like being placed in the position of interpreter, but in fact she was the perfect choice, having learned a bit of Lisha’s native tongue when she was the prisoner of the Ullabomba. “It’s simple, Lisha,” she said using a mixture of English and Ullabomban, “this coward is Herr Moeller. He has us in his power, and has already hurt Larra although she is safe enough for now. I don’t know abut Ayashe, but he claims that she had not been harmed. He fancies himself a great hunter and wants to hunt you. If you succeed in eluding him, then he promises to grant your freedom. If you refuse he will turn you, me, and Ayashe over to his men.”
Katie stopped speaking and turned to Moeller. “I have explained it as best I can. Is there anything else?”
Just one thing,” Moeller answered. “Never let it be said that I am not sporting. I will use no firearms when I hunt her, only this.” As Moeller spoke her held up a powerful looking air rifle. “It fires a paralyzing dart. In her case I do not want her head. It is another part of her anatomy I am after.”
“Why don’t you just rape her now and get it over with?” Katie asked, angrily.
“Rape is such a nasty word. I consider what I am doing another form of trophy hunting with a much more interesting prize at the completion of the hunt. Be assured, I will keep my word. If she eludes me she goes free. But if not…”
Moeller did not have to elaborate, but to make sure Katie went over what he had said. “Lisha, if you lose the game you will be raped; probably gang raped.”
Lisha sneered at Moeller. “Then nothing to lose,” she said in her best English. “This man have no honour. Already rape you. Probably also rape Ayashe. I will take part in his game.”
Moeller’s face showed his displeasure at the deliberate insult. His polite façade broke. “We will see about honour, you black bitch. I doubt you will have much left after I have finished with you.”
He turned to his escort. “Chain her and then bring her to the staging area.”
Lisha stood quietly, holding back her anger as her wrists and ankles were shackled. It would her do no good to offer resistance at this time, especially not with two guns trained on her. She would almost certainly be killed and even if she wasn’t she could not guarantee that Katie might not be hit if any shooting started.
Katie was left behind, escorted somewhere else in the castle as Lisha was led off by her guards. She hoped that nothing bad was done to the blonde American; hating the feeling of helplessness that had been with her ever since she had been captured. Now, she hoped, she might be able to do something about it.
She kept her eyes open as she was escorted through the castle, trying to memorize every twist and turn of the corridors. Fortunately, the route was fairly direct once she was clear of the area where she had been held captive. She soon recognized the area she had been brought through when she had arrived. She was walked through the main courtyard to the outer gates of the castle.
Outside she was taken in the opposite direction from the dock along an unpaved path toward a woodland area. The path rose gradually as it entered the forest. Lisha paid special attention to the trees as they were quite different from the thick rainforests she was used to. Most of these trees had needles for leaves although they were mixed with other broad-leafed trees and numerous bushes and shrubs. She noted to her satisfaction that the vegetation was quite thick and contained many fallen trees. It was an ideal place to hide and she began to have some hope that her plan to defeat Moeller might have some merit. That hope, however, turned out to be a little premature.
They stopped atop a large flat rock overlooking the island. From here Lisha could see the ocean to her left and to her right was a rugged upland. Directly ahead of her was a valley thick with trees. Here and there she could see the gleam of water; probably from some stream or pond. Waiting on the overlook was Moeller and Lisha immediately saw her problem.
Next to him were six men and a menacing looking pack of
hounds. There were also seven
horses, saddled and ready to go. It
appeared that Moeller would be taking no chances in his prey
escaping. “Here is your
starting point,” Moeller said.
“I will give you a one hour head
start. You goal is to elude me
for one day. It is now
Lisha thought of making a dash for it as soon as her chains were removed, but restrained herself. Moeller’s men were there, armed with rifles. They would bring her down before she had gone five steps. She would play the game his way. Without comment she stripped off her shirt and then her boots and trousers.
She ignored the salacious leers Moeller and his men cast her way. Ullabomba society placed a very low premium on modesty. Nudity or near nudity was the norm with jewellery taking the place of clothing. Lisha had worn an elaborate and expensive assortment of gold and jewels before joining Larra’s little band and it had taken some convincing on the part of her leader to convince her that going without clothing in Larra’s culture would get her arrested. She still thought it a stupid custom but was willing to go along with it.
Casting the last item of clothing aside she waited for Moeller to give the word. He leered at her for a few seconds and then gave the command. Go. You have one hour and then we come after you. Make the best of it.”
Lisha could tell from the grin on his face that he had little doubt that he would capture her well before the deadline, but she ignored him and set out at an easy trot toward the trail that led into the valley.
Once out of sight she lengthened her stride without quickening her pace, but her easy movements were deceptive. Her long legs carried her quickly down the trail and into the thickly wooded valley. The fact that her feet were bare was no obstacle. The soles of her feet were as tough as leather and she could have run over thorns without feeling the least discomfort.
Keeping in mind the location of the water she had seen she tried to work toward it, hoping that she might find something to help her in her fight to survive Moeller’s challenge. Weaponless, she hoped to find something that might even up the odds a little bit and she made her first find about ten minutes into the forest.
She came across a thick stand of willows. Pushing into the foliage she found several branches that would do. Using her powerful fingers she quickly broke off two branches each about twice the thickness of her thumb. Neither was a clean break and she had to work them back and forth, twisting at the same time to get what she wanted. However, she managed to get a couple of staves each about four feet in length. She trimmed them as she moved, tearing off the leaves and smaller branches until she had two suitable fighting sticks. She would have preferred to have her spear, but these would do, and although they were crude they resembled the seasoned cudgels her people used for training.
She knew it wasn’t much against firearms and a pack of dogs, but at least it was something. Winding a strip of bark about the staves to hold them together she continued down the trail, keeping her eyes open for anything else that she might be able to use.
She knew that she couldn’t stay on the trail too much longer. The dogs would have no difficulty tracking her or running her down, but neither did she want to push off blindly into the bush. Exhausting herself by plowing blindly through the forest would be just as futile as staying on the trail. She needed to choose where she left it carefully.
Ideally she would find a place that would throw off the dogs and where the horses couldn’t follow. The problem was she did not have time to look for the perfect place; she would have to take what fortune offered.
She found what she was looking for in a stream. It came tumbling from higher ground moving from right to left and was about twenty feet wide. It was not exactly ideal. Wider and deeper would have been better for throwing off dogs, but it might serve to disrupt the pursuit a little. Besides, she had another more sinister plan in mind, based on the thick stands of willows growing along each bank.
She stepped into the water and bit back a gasp of surprise. She was still not used to the fact that rivers and streams in the mid-latitudes were much colder than the waters of her homeland. In fact the water was chilling, but an Ullabomba warrior did not show discomfort over so trivial a thing and she forged upstream.
She stumbled several times on the slippery rocks but persevered, knowing that her pursuers would either have to follow her or forge their way through the thick stands of willows that lined the bank. She suspected that they would probably stay on dry land rather than stumble along the icy streambed as she was doing.
She kept up the ordeal for several hundred feet before climbing up the bank in a spot where the vegetation was particularly thick, but she did not immediately push her way through it. Instead she used a sharp-edged rock she had found on the stream bank to help break off and sharpen the ends of several lengths of willow. She used an especially thick stick to dig a series of small holes where the ground was soft enough, and then sharpened the sticks and inserted them into the holes. Using sticks and grasses she covered up the small traps. Then, using her strong white teeth, she peeled back a few lengths of willow bark. Tearing the bark into strips she used it to tie down a few of the larger willow withes. She repeated this several times, knowing as she did it that the task was cutting into her precious one-hour lead, provided that Moeller kept his word. But what she was doing was important. She wanted to slow down the pursuit a little and give the dogs and Moeller something to think about. Nothing that she was doing could cause any real damage to her pursuers, but it would hurt and perhaps make them hesitant.
Before she moved on she used a few strips of willow bark to fashion a crude net bag. It took her skilled fingers only a few seconds to construct something she had made hundreds of times as a girl. She gathered a few smooth stones from the stream and placed them in the bag which she hung around her neck before moving on.
She scrambled out of the thicket and headed for higher ground. By now Moeller should be almost ready to launch his pursuit and she wanted herself on ground that would put his horses at a disadvantage. She remembered the higher ground that she had seen front the overlook where Moeller had released her. It would not be proof against dogs, but it would be difficult ground for horses and she was counting on her crude little traps to give the dogs a bit of a bad time. It might also make Moeller angry and an angry pursuer might be inclined to blunder into situations that a calmer man might avoid.
She got a bit of a break in an almost vertical rock face that rose in front of her. The stream she had been following plummeted over the edge in a scenic waterfall she had no time to admire. It was the cliff that was important. It ran in both directions as far as she could see, creating a barrier that both man and dog would have to ride around. She was not foolish enough to think that the cliff would delay Moeller for very long. This was his island, and he probably knew every inch of it. She had a very strong suspicion that this was not the first time he had played this game.
That started her thinking. So far she had not done anything particularly unusual. Wading up the stream and climbing the cliff had probably been tried before. All she had done was delay her eventual capture. What she needed to do was think of something really unusual. At the moment, however, she couldn’t think of anything, but she kept her eyes open, trying to think of something that Moeller would not expect.
Reaching the top of the cliff she pushed through a screen of willows and found herself among a stand of evergreens mixed with a few large-leafed trees. It didn’t promise much more hope of escape so she pushed on at the same time keeping her eyes open for anything else that might help. Behind her, but much closer than before, she could hear the baying of Moeller’s hounds. She increased her speed, breaking into a long-legged jog that ate up the ground at an astonishing rate.
By her standards, the trees were most unusual, standing straight and tall with very few branches lower down and massive trunks thrusting up from the forest floor. The ground she stepped on was covered with a thick carpet of needles which cushioned her footfalls, but she suspected, left a very fine trail for the dogs and Moeller to follow. She had to find something that would turn the tables on her pursuers and find it fast.
She came to a sudden halt. Jogging between two massive trees she found herself on the edge of a deep gorge. At the bottom she could see the glint of water, but she could also see large boulders on the bottom of the shallow stream. It might provide a place of refuge if she could climb down to it, but more likely it would simply be a trap, giving her pursuers a chance to pick her off from the top. It was, however, too wide for her to jump across, so she would either have to move parallel to it or turn back.
Moving to her right she followed the edge of the gorge, looking for a possible way across that would not force her to climb all the way down. To her right she could hear the barking of the dogs. They were much closer now, but there did not seem to be as many of them. Perhaps one of her little traps had worked.
She found what she was looking for a little farther along. It was a monstrous tree, growing almost out of the side of the gorge and leaning at a precarious forty-five degree angle over the sheer drop. Nature had twisted its massive trunk and something, perhaps a lightning strike had broken off the top two-thirds of the tree. As a result, it leaned almost to the other side of the gorge, its roots gripping the edge like the talons of some monstrous bird.
A single glance told Lisha she could use this. It would act as both a diversion and a trap, but she would have to work fast. Quickly she moved to a stand of willows and broke off a couple of long stems. Stripping off some of the bark with her teeth she bound them together making a rather weak pole about twenty feet long. She leaned it against the trunk of the tree so that it extended from the edge of the gorge to a place on the trunk where the stub of a broken branch projected. Then she broke off many other willow withes and laid them across her support until she had a triangular platform of willow branches hanging over the gorge. She then grabbed handfuls of grass and tossed it on top, concealing it as much as possible.
When she was finished she had a very weak wicker ramp extending from the ground to the top of the trunk. Anyone who saw it would know immediately what it was, but it was not intended to fool people; it was intended to fool dogs. However, in order to work it needed one final touch. Returning to the willows she broke off several more of the branches and constructed a willow fence across the front of the tree trunk. The dogs that Moeller had could easily push through such a flimsy barrier, but Lisha was betting that they would head for the easiest route, especially given the fact that they would be relying more on scent than sight.
Her trap complete, Lisha now worked on deception. She headed toward the tree trunk and the fragile ramp she had constructed. Taking a short run she vaulted across it and landed on the sloping trunk, grabbing hold of an upright branch to catch herself. Then she ran straight up the trunk to the very end. She was now high above the gorge and only about twenty feet from one of the trees on the far side. Carefully she measured the difference and then backed down the trunk. What she was about to do was risky, but not beyond her capability. Gathering her strength she burst into a run and leaped into space, her arms and fingers extended toward the tree on the other side.
For a few seconds she was suspended over emptiness, but it never occurred to Lisha that she might fall short. With a crash of breaking branches she slammed into the trunk, almost failing to grab hold of an available branch. But she managed to catch hold and for an instant dangled several hundred feet above the gorge. Gathering herself, she grabbed another branch and then hung on, getting her wind back. The impact against the trunk had knocked the breath out of her, but she managed to recover and began to work her way back to the ground. Now she would just have to hope that her little trick would succeed.
Moeller grinned as he watched the dogs surge into the water. The black bitch was trapped. He had hunted most of the island before and knew that the stream led to a rock cliff down which tumbled a waterfall. He had climbed it once using climbing gear, but he doubted his quarry had his skills.
A sudden increase in the volume of barking indicted that the dogs had picked up the black girl’s scent. Her feeble trick of wading up the chill stream had not worked. No doubt she’d frozen her black ankles off. Served the stupid bitch right. He called out to the men who were trying to pick up her trail downstream and followed the dogs as they surged along the right bank.
A cacophony of yelps and snarls alerted him to the fact that the dogs had blundered into something. He charged forward, readying his tranquilizer gun. Had the dogs found her already? He was just in time to see half the dogs come charging back toward him while the others snarled at something hidden in the willows.
He approached cautiously; there was no telling what that black cunt would do once he had her cornered. “Schiese!” he swore. Several of the dogs were limping and another was swiping at its nose. There was no sign of his prey and he strode forward into the willows, two of his men flanking him. ”Fotze,” he muttered. Hidden amongst the willows were a number of simple traps. Willows had been bent down and then rigged to spring back up giving anything that blundered into them a painful slap, as several of the dogs had found out. There were also several small pit traps filled with sharpened stakes. However, none of the dogs were actually hurt, but they were angry and disoriented.
“Bitch thinks she’s clever, but I’ll have her sucking my cock before the day is over.” He motioned to his men to collect the dogs and set off after her. He moved carefully, three of his men flanking the stream on one side and three on the other, the dogs surging ahead, hot on the trail.
They reached the waterfall and he stared about in disbelief. “Fuck. How the hell could that black cunt have gone straight up the cliff? She had to be part mountain goat. But there was no denying the dogs were pawing at the bottom, attempting to climb up the sheer rock face. “God damn,” Moeller swore. He would have to go back and circle around. The bitch had gained on him. However, he was not about to let her win.
“Donner,” he bawled to one of his men. “Circle back and make sure that the starting area is guarded.” It was not exactly a fair tactic, but he was damned if he was going to lose to a nigger. “Come on,” he yelled to the rest of his men. “Let’s get the cunt.”
It took them another hour to backtrack and circle around the falls. Another hour in which the black bitch was no doubt getting farther away. He pushed forward following the dogs who were straining against their leashes.
“Should I let them go, Herr Moeller?” Knutson asked.
“Not yet. I want that cunt in one piece, if for no other reason than to have the pleasure of taking her apart.”
With the dogs barking excitedly, they tracked their quarry toward the most rugged part of the island. Fortunately, she had not taken advantage of their mistake at the waterfall to double back on them and head for the castle. Moeller realized that purely by chance she was heading straight for the deep gorge that cut through the island. It would force her to turn either toward the high upland on the east side of the island or the other way that led to the beach. Either way if they let the dogs loose they should be able to run her down.
There was also the risk that they might tear her apart, but this part of the island was heavily treed and the black bitch had already shown herself capable of great feats of agility. Climbing a tree should be no problem for her and then she would be trapped. He was looking forward to a little target practice on her black body.
The dogs surged away, charging across the thickly forested ground. Their excited yammering showed that they were hot on her scent. Moeller hurried after them, his men flanking him. As he pushed through the thick stands of vegetation the dogs howling increased, showing that the prey was near.
He suddenly found himself near the gorge and the strangely bent tree that hung over it. The dogs were surging toward it, heading for the sloping trunk. And then he saw the trap, but too late to call the dogs off. Excited beyond obedience by the nearness of the prey they rushed toward the tree, ignoring the frantic shouts from their handlers.
One of the dogs crashed through a flimsy barrier of sticks set in front of the trunk and kept on going, but the others swerved, heading for the fragile ramp that had been set against the side of the trunk. “Fuck!” Moeller shouted. He watched helplessly as four of the dogs broke through the trap and tumbled toward the bottom of the gorge, howling in fear. The other skidded to a halt just before it skidded over the edge.
“That cocksucking nigger,” Moeller shouted. Four dogs lost. And he had no idea where she was. The one dog that had climbed the sloping trunk was standing at the top barking in the direction of the other side. The other dog was scampering up the trunk to join its mate clearly indicating that the prey had gone that way.
“Impossible,” Moeller said. How could anyone have jumped that gap? It was a good twenty feet across and a drop of thirty feet to the ground. Anyone attempting it would break both legs, provided they were not killed. Unless…
“She must have jumped into one of the trees,” called one of the dog handlers. “She must be part ape.”
Moeller stared across the gorge in frustration. If the nigger had crossed to the other side it was going to be damned difficult to catch her. There was no telling which way she had gone and it would take several hours for him and his men with the two remaining dogs to get to the other side. There was nothing to do but head back to the starting point and hope that she would turn up, but somehow he doubted it. He had been completely outsmarted by the black bitch. He swore again and headed back toward the castle.
Lisha jogged toward the sound of the sea. Her little ruse had worked better than she had hoped. She was a bit bruised and scratched where her body had slammed into the trunk of the tree she had jumped into, but other than that Moeller’s little game had hardly challenged her physically. Now she had to figure out a way to get her friends out of the castle.
She had never intended to play Moeller’s game. She had little faith that he would keep his word; he simply wanted to play with her, and she wasn’t inclined to play those kinds of games. She only had one goal; to rescue her friends, and she wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that. However, there was something she needed to do first. She had used up a lot of energy escaping from Moeller, and while she had found plenty to drink she was now very hungry. She needed to find food before she did anything else.
She emerged from thick trees onto a gravelly beach. Lisha knew next to nothing about the ocean, other than the fact that it was more water than she had ever seen or ever hoped to see. However, she also knew that creatures that lived in the ocean were edible; she had even tried a few of them and found some of them to be quite tasty and others less so. However, she knew nothing about catching them, but supposed it could not be too difficult provided she had the right equipment. The problem was, she had nothing but her hands, however, she was hungry and the sea seemed like the most obvious place to find food.
She stepped out onto the beach and stared at the waves crashing against the rocks. After thinking for a few seconds she moved toward them. Perhaps the rocks might be the best place to look.
Checking to make sure that none of Moeller’s men were in sight, she clambered onto the rocks. She quickly discovered that the chemically weathered rocks of the seaside were quite a bit harder on her feet than those of the beach, however, her skin was tough enough to endure it; at least for a short time. She moved toward the breaking waves, her eyes searching the rock pools that dotted the surface of the rocks. There seemed to be a multitude of tiny creatures living in them, but very little that looked edible. Perhaps some of the tiny crabs might do, but she would try them only if she couldn’t find anything else.
She moved to where the pounding surf met the rocks. Here she saw dozens of black-shelled creatures clinging to the rocks. She recognized them as something she had once seen at one of the banquets Larra had taken her to. She remembered trying one and not being particularly impressed, but clearly they were food and there were lots of them. The only problem was prying them loose from the rocks. They clung to the rock surface so fiercely it was almost as if they were part of the rock itself. She needed some sort of tool.
Retracing her steps she moved along the beach looking for a suitable rock. It would have been far better if she had the knife that Moeller’s men had taken form her, but a rock would probably do if she could find one with a sharp edge. Most of the larger rocks had been thrown against the back of the beach, but they were too water- smoothed to be of much use. However, she found a rock that she recognized. Picking it up she smashed it against another, shattering it and producing a number of very sharp edges. She sorted through them and selected one that would do, and then returned to the mussel bed.
She soon had her flimsy willow net bag full and returned to the beach. Sitting down just above the water, she began to pry open the shells. She ate them raw, not sure if that was the best way, but not wanting to start a fire that might give her away to Moeller’s men.
Her hunger satisfied, she picked up several of the pieces of flint she had
found. Now she had something
that might serve as a real weapon.
She created an axe first, braiding some tough grasses into a reasonable
rope and then using it to bind the flint axe-head to the wood
haft. This task took her most
of the rest of the day and as night closed in on her she retreated into the
woods where she built a small shelter.
She piled cut grass inside until she had something she could snuggle
into. By her standards the nights
in this part of the world were cold, in spite of the fact that it was supposed
to be high summer. She
burrowed into the grass. Tomorrow
she would see about dealing with Moeller and his thugs and rescuing her
friends.
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