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Exquisite pain forced Larra back to
consciousness. It took her a
few seconds to realize where she was and what was
happening. She found herself
being half dragged and half carried by two black warriors through the rainforest.
Her thigh throbbed in extreme agony, as did her arms, which had been cruelly
trussed up behind her back. Her
wrists had been painfully lashed together with rawhide strips and then pulled
up and roped in place by a cord that encircled her body just above her naked
breasts. The effect was to pull
her bound wrists up as high as possible, causing extreme pain in her arms
and thrusting her quivering breasts
forward.
She found that her wounded thigh had been
crudely bandaged using the cloth strips she had been wearing over her sumptuous
breasts. Her leg had been bound
tightly enough to stop the wound from bleeding, but each time her foot touched
the ground excruciating pain lanced through her thigh, forcing tormented
gasps from her lips. Her captors
seemed oblivious to her suffering.
Each black warrior had hooked one arm through each of hers, so that
she was almost but not quite lifted off the
ground. Because her injured left
leg could not support any weight, she was forced to use her right leg to
support her weight whenever one of her black escorts let her
drop. Soon the exhausted young
woman was unable to stand at all, and the blacks dragged her along, both
her legs trailing on the ground.
Larra fainted, welcoming the wave of darkness that washed over
her.
Larra awoke in the darkness of the hut that
she had fled so long ago. Or
was it long ago? It really could
not have been more than two or three
days. She felt
hot. Her injured leg felt like
it was on fire. Her entire body
was burning up. She tried to
sit up but was too weak to move.
The slight effort she had made sent waves of pain shooting through
her damaged thigh. A moan escaped
her parched lips. Immediately,
she found herself being gently restrained by an almost naked black
woman. The woman pushed her softly
but firmly back down and then held her with one hand while bathing her brow
with a damp cloth.
Larra discovered that she was no longer bound,
but she was in too much pain and far too weak to take advantage of the
situation. “Water,”
she begged weakly. Unconsciously,
she was speaking in English, but the black women seemed to understand and
held a water-filled gourd to her lips.
Larra drank greedily, and then fell back, exhausted by even this small
effort.
For the next few days, Larra drifted in and
out of consciousness, her body wracked by a raging fever, and her injured
thigh swollen to twice its normal size.
Eventually, her strong constitution pulled her through the
ordeal. The fever subsided, the
swelling went down, and she found herself weak but slowly recovering her
strength.
Having survived a close brush with death,
she was a little alarmed at what had happened to her normally athletic
body. The wound on her thigh
was still slightly inflamed, but the edges of the injury had been neatly
stitched together, apparently by using the pincers of savage African ants
as sutures. The technique seemed
to have worked. It appeared that
when the wound was fully healed there would only be a tiny scar to mark where
the spear had penetrated. The
rest of her body seemed to have wasted away; her smooth belly shrunk to tiny
proportions; her ribs clearly showing; and her hipbones jutting out from
under her normally firm flesh.
“I look like a skeleton,” she
thought. “I wonder what
my face looks like.”
Her captors were quick to notice her recovery
and took precautions. A collar
was placed around her neck and the collar was chained to the center pole
of the hut. Her hands were left
free, but her ankles were loosely connected by a rawhide
rope. Two armed warriors guarded
her; so that she was always within easy striking distance of their razor
sharp spears.
For the next four weeks Larra remained confined
in the hut. Despite the fact
that she was not allowed to exercise, she was well cared for, being given
food and water at regular intervals.
She was provided with a modest African dress and was able to cover
her nudity. The garment provided
was not exactly conducive to easy movement, but it made her feel better about
her situation. It consisted of
a single piece of cloth that she wound around her
body. It concealed most of her
charms, but not her curves.
Seeing that escape was not possible in her
weakened condition, Larra bided her time.
She was quite concerned over her inability to exercise, fearing that
her martial arts skills would deteriorate without practice, but all the time
she was regaining her strength and was soon back to her fighting
weight. She used the time to
learn something of the language of her
captors. Her natural ability
with languages (She already spoke seven, including Japanese and Mandarin)
enabled her to master much of the African dialect fairly
quickly. This feat seemed to
amaze and please the African women who attended her, and Larra was able to
learn a good deal about the people who had taken her
prisoner. She also modified her
simple dress, cutting her robe into two pieces to facilitate easier
movement. She covered her stunning
breasts with one piece of fabric, cutting it so that it held them tightly
enough to give her freedom of movement.
She tied the piece of cloth behind her neck and back, creating a sort
of primitive bikini, years ahead of its
time. The other piece she draped
over the smooth curve of her hips, but she cut it up the side to enable her
legs to move unhindered. Her
midriff was left bare, as were her smooth muscular arms.
She learned (as was all too obvious) that
she had stumbled upon a fierce warrior people who called themselves the
Maasi. The Maasi regarded themselves as guardians
of the sacred stone that Larra had stumbled upon and resented any intrusions
into their territory. Interlopers,
like Larra and her safari were considered dangerous enemies to be attacked
and killed or taken prisoner.
Slavery was considered by the Maasi to be an
abomination. Prisoners were never
enslaved, but instead were sacrificed to the numerous gods and spirits that
inhabited Maasi mythology. This
sacrifice involved a brutal ceremony in which the hapless victim was first
disemboweled to let the spirit leave the
body. The victim’s limbs
were then systematically removed by hacking them from the body, starting
with the arms and ending with the legs.
If the sacrifice was still alive its suffering was finally ended by
having its head chopped off. The
various body parts of the victim were then placed about the village to be
picked clean by insects and scavenging birds.
There had been some discussion as to whether
or not the
Weupe
Mchawi or “White Witch” should meet the accustomed
fate. Some of the tribal elders
had argued that she should be made a part of the king’s household, believing
that such a powerful woman would
provide offspring who would have very strong
magic. But in the end, it was
decided that so formidable a witch would be too dangerous to let
live. Her magic had already killed
five Maasi warriors. So potent
a magician could not be allowed to live.
For the well-being of the tribe she must be
sacrificed. She also learned
that Chui, the powerful warrior whose spear had pierced her thigh, was most
upset at this decision. As the
king’s son, he had argued that Larra should be added to his household
if the king did not want her. But
in the end, he had been overruled.
Larra filed away all of this
information. Sooner or later
it might come in useful. In the
meantime, she bided her time, listening to gossip between her attendants
and the lively banter between her guards.
Whenever possible she engaged anyone who would cooperate in conversation,
seeking still more information that might help her in some
way. Slowly but surely, a plan
was taking shape in her mind.
As Larra’s days of recovery stretched
into weeks, her guards became more casual about their
duty. Instead of watching her
closely they tended to gather near the door of the hut, engaging in conversation,
and watching the life of the village
outside. Mostly, they appeared
very bored. At night, instead
of standing guard, they often lay down in the doorway and slept. Their only
precaution was to securely bind Larra to the center post by her hands and
feet. Larra had often struggled
to escape from the bonds, but they tied her so well that she had never been
able to loosen the knots before morning.
If she were to escape, she would need some help.
During the day and early evening, Larra was
often alone with her female attendants, especially with a young girl whose
name translated as “Butterfly.” Larra had learned much from the
young woman about Maasi society.
She seemed kind and considerate, but Larra noticed, that Butterfly,
never looked directly at her, choosing to avert her face whenever Larra spoke
to her. Apparently, Larra’s
magic was considered so great that even looking at her was considered
risky. In the fifth week of her
imprisonment Larra attempted her plan.
Addressing Butterfly, she asked: “Why do you not look at
me?”
“I fear that you will put a curse on
me, mistress,” the young woman
answered.
“There is already a curse on you,”
replied Larra quietly.
The young woman’s dark skin actually
seemed to lighten and a look of terrible fear crossed her
face.
“Do not worry,” said Larra quickly,
“I can discover the curse and remove it.”
They were speaking
quietly. Larra knew that she
must not alert the guards.
“Do not tell anyone of this conversation,” said Larra, “or
I will not be able to help you.”
“What must I do?” asked the frightened
girl. Larra saw that she was
actually trembling.
“You must bring me three things,”
replied Larra. She had learned
that the Maasi regarded the number three as especially
significant. “I need the
foot of a chicken, twelve thorns from an acacia bush, and a cup of bull’s
blood. These things must be brought
to me at the first sighting of the
Moon.” Larra had no special
use for these items, but she knew that if the girl brought them, then it
would be a sign that Larra could expect her complete
cooperation.
That evening, after Larra had been brought
her evening meal, Butterfly returned.
“Sit in front of me so that the guards do not see,” Larra
instructed.
Larra took the items Butterfly had
brought. Ritualistically she
arranged the thorns in a circle. In
the center of the circle she placed the chicken
foot. Then she poured the cup
of blood over her hands and reached out to take Butterfly’s hands in
hers. Then chanting in a low
voice, she spoke in English.
“Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow, and everywhere
that Mary went, the lamb was sure to
go.” As she finished, Larra
rolled her eyes as far up into her head as she could, and held her
breath. Her breath control was
excellent. She did not breathe
again for a full two minutes. As
the end of that time she shook her head and came out of her
“trance.” Larra could
tell from the terrified look on Butterfly’s face that her performance
had been impressive.
She then took Butterfly’s head in her
hands, pulling the girl’s face very close to her
own. “You have been cursed
by a rival,” she whispered.
“If the curse is not removed you will die before the moon is
full.” Here the girl began
to whimper and Larra had to place her bloody finger on the girl’s lips
to keep her quiet. “I can
remove the curse, but you must help me by bringing me what I
need.”
The girl became very attentive and Larra
continued. “I need a small
sharp knife that has been dipped in the milk of a cow that has just
calved. I also need a bat’s
wing and the head of a rat.”
Larra knew that bats and rats were frequent items in the Maasi
diet. “These must be brought
to me next morning.” The
girl nodded her understanding.
“Go now,” finished Larra, “and get me what I
need.”
The next morning, very early, Butterfly
returned. Hidden in the folds
of her simple robe were the items Larra had
requested. Butterfly’s first
duty was to untie Larra from the post.
Larra had not slept well.
She had been tied particularly tightly that night and had some difficulty
getting comfortable. Larra took
the requested items and carefully hid them where they would not be found
when the guards came to tie her that night.
Larra passed the day as she usually
did. The tether around her neck
permitted very little movement. She
tried to move around a little to keep from cramping
up. She relied upon tai chi exercises
to keep her as fit as possible. But
proper exercise was impossible, especially as her guards regarded any real
movement as menacing. She hoped that if any opportunity came for escape that
she would not be too out of shape to pull it
off.
Eventually night came and her guards came
to tie her once more. She hoped
that the ropes would not be as tight as the previous night, when her circulation
had been cut off and it had taken her several minutes before she could move
in the morning. Her wrists were
marked by the ropes that bound her each
night. The marks stayed with
her throughout the day. She did
not resist their efforts. It
would have been futile in any case.
Outside the hut were dozens of black
warriors. She might beat down
two or three, but eventually she would be overwhelmed and likely killed or
worse.
Her wrists were first bound tightly behind
her back. Then her ankles were
bound and pulled up and tied to her
wrists. Ropes were next tightly
wound about her arms and across and between her
breasts. Finally, the neck tether
was pulled tight so that her neck was pulled next to the center
post. The men then left her and
took up their positions in the doorway.
She could hear them conversing in low
tones. If they followed their
usual pattern they would doze off in an hour or
so. In the meantime there was
nothing Larra could do except wait.
Darkness
fell. Although the tropical night
was not really cool, the temperature dropped low enough that the men in the
doorway wrapped their robes around
themselves. Larra shivered in
her brief covering. It had been
like this every night of her
imprisonment.
From the doorway came a low
snoring. This was soon followed
by a second almost identical sound.
Her guards were asleep and making enough noise to mask any noise she
might make. She squirmed around
attempting to move her bound wrists to the spot where she had hidden the
small knife. She had buried it
just under the straw that she lay on.
She hoped that it was within
reach. She had tried to place
it exactly where her bound hands could find
it. “Ah,” she
gasped. She had
it.
With some manipulation, she was able to bring
the blade against the ropes that bound her
wrists. Luckily, the knife was
very sharp. Butterfly had chosen
well. It took her a few minutes,
but one by one she felt the knife cutting through the
strands. Finally, with a slight
snap the last strand parted. Her
wrists now free, she was able to cut through the remainder of her bonds in
only a few seconds.
Rising slowly, she crept across the hut to
the door. The two snoring guards
were sprawled across it. Moving
ever so carefully, Larra stepped across
them. For the first time in five
weeks she was outside the hut. She
felt like running through the village shrieking at the top of her
lungs. But she controlled her
impulses. She was not free
yet. There were still the village
dogs to navigate around and she had to find some way over the
stockade.
One of the sleeping warriors’ spears
was leaning against the doorway of the
hut. Larra picked it up and then
moved toward the next hut. Keeping
to the shadows whenever she could, she crept from hut to hut, moving slowly
and silently. No dogs barked
and finally she reached the stockade.
The stockade consisted of vertical tree trunks
sunk into the ground and lashed together in the middle and at the
top. It stood about ten feet
high. Larra saw that it would
not be much of a barrier to her escape.
Between each tree trunk was a slight
gap. She pushed the spear through
the gap to the other side, and then grasping the tree trunk she shinnied
up, using the ropes halfway up and near the top to help
her. Reaching the top she swung
over and hung by her fingertips.
She then let go and dropped the remaining four feet to the
ground. Picking up the spear
she moved off quickly into the
rainforest.
Once again she was on the
loose. And once again she did
not have the faintest idea as to which way to
proceed. The best she could do
was move in a direction that she thought was taking her away from the
village. Larra trotted through
the forest as quickly as her shoeless feet and her level of fitness would
allow. She was not in prime
condition. Her long confinement
had weakened her and she could not move as speedily as she once
had. Fortunately, she had happened
on a trail almost right away. That
was a blessing. Thrashing about
in the rainforest at night would have placed her in a severe
predicament.
She continued moving down the trail
for the rest of the night. By
morning (she hoped) she would be far enough away that pursuit would not be
immediate. As it got lighter
she tried to get her bearings, using the glow of the dawn as her
compass. She wanted to move
east. As the sun rose she tried
to take branches in the trail that headed her in that
direction. She was
free. Whether she remained that
way would depend on her ability and a good deal of
luck.
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