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Chapter
23 The
Takla watched confidently as her troops marched
out of the city to attack the enemy.
They were led by her best general, Melawni, a woman she had grown
up with. They had played together
as children in the royal gardens and trained together as young
warriors. That was before Takla
had been elevated to the status of queen, but they had remained fast friends
and Takla had implicit trust in her.
Melawni had beaten the Lelawabi on numerous
occasions.
The Suruani warriors were closing fast now.
Takla expected that the Lelawabi
soldiers must be almost wetting themselves as the invincible army of fierce
women closed with them. Then
suddenly there was a sound the like of which she had never heard
before. It was a type of chattering,
like that of a monkey or large insect, only much
louder. And something strange
started to happen to her army. The
front row of warriors went down, many writhing on the ground screaming loudly
as they were struck down by an unseen
force. Within seconds, the ferocious
attack had come to a complete halt.
A few seconds more and many of her warriors started to
retreat. Then the retreat turned
into a route. Takla watched her
army and her proudest, best-trained soldiers break and run like startled
deer.
The Lelawabi set up a great cheer, and charged after their fleeing
enemy. Takla watched in stunned
disbelief as the enemy surged up to the walls of the
city. Many of the enemy were
carrying scaling ladders and they soon had them in place and were scrambling
toward the tops of the walls. But
the Suruani were not beaten yet.
Many warriors had remained inside the walls to garrison the
city. These valiant women leapt
to the top of the walls and began to topple the scaling
ladders. There was another series
of loud popping sounds. To
Takla’s horror most of the defenders on the wall seemed to be struck
by an invisible force and fell backward off the
battlements. The way was open
for the enemy. Within a minute
hundreds of enemy soldiers were swarming into the
city.
Sudden fear swept over Takla as she realized her own
danger. Many elements of the
enemy were now actually behind her and others were assaulting the very tower
in which she stood.
“My queen, we must go,” said her chief bodyguard, gently touching
her arm. Takla ignored the outrage,
realizing that the woman was only doing her
duty. She needed no second
urging. Forsaking her litter
in favour of her own feet, she rapidly descended the
tower.
The bottom of the tower was total chaos.
Enemy soldiers swarmed in every
direction. Her bodyguard clearing
the way before her, Takla fled toward the
palace. If she could rally her
forces there the day might still be
saved. Reaching the palace, however,
proved difficult. The twisting
streets were crammed with fleeing people.
Again and again Takla and her escort had to detour to avoid strong
concentrations of enemy soldiers that had somehow gotten ahead of
her.
But now the place loomed only a few houses
away. Another minute or so and
she would be there. She looked
up at the high stone walls. And
then her heart skipped a beat.
Staring down at her were the faces of enemy
soldiers. Somehow they had gotten
into the palace before her.
Takla’s escort saw them too.
The chief bodyguard steered her
away. “My queen, we must
find a way out of the city before it is too
late.”
But it was already too late. Enemy
warriors appeared in the street behind them and in front of them, completely
hemming them in. Her bodyguard
immediately closed in on her, ready to fight to the death to defend their
queen.
It was all over in a matter of seconds.
Recognizing whom they had trapped, the Lelawabi warriors attacked
with frenzied ferocity.
Takla’s bodyguard was simply overwhelmed as men came at them
from all directions. As the last
few of her guard went down, Takla herself snatched up a spear and struck
at the enemy, but a blow to the back of her head from the butt end of a spear,
knocked her to her knees. Then
a dozen pair of hands reached for her.
Screaming in fear and rage, the struggling queen was lifted off her
feet and carried through the streets.
The room where Larra and Melissa lay was suddenly
deserted. Gritting her teeth,
Melissa rolled onto her side so that she could face
Larra. “We’ve got to
get out of here. Those were
shots. It is most likely Featherstone
and his thugs.” Her voice
croaked from all the screaming she had done the day before, but the fear
of recapture by the Englishman and his goons gave her the strength of
desperation. Her only fear was
getting Larra away safely. She
did not know what brutal treatment the adventuress had been subjected to,
but she knew that it had to have been severe to leave Larra unable to
walk.
Setting her jaw to keep from screaming, Melissa managed to rise from the
bed. She swayed dizzily as the
pain of her injuries hit her. She
steadied herself against the wall and looked around for something to put
on. A robe similar to that worn
by the healer caught her eye and she picked it
up. Then, slowly, so as to not
lose her balance she made her way over to
Larra. Extending her hand, she
offered her assistance.
“Come,” she said, “we probably don’t have much
time.”
“I can’t make it,” said
Larra. “They really worked
me over. Go without
me. If you get away maybe you
can try to rescue me later.”
“There will be no later,” said Melissa determinedly, her hoarse
voice making her words sound less
resolute. “I you won’t
come or let me help you, then I’m staying
here.”
Larra looked at Melissa’s stubborn
face. She
sighed. “Alright, see if
you can get me some clothing and then help me
up.”
Melissa scouted around. Every
move was agony, but she forced herself to keep her face
straight. She would set an example
for Larra. It was time for her
to be the strong one. She found
a robe like the one she had gotten for herself and handed it to
Larra. “Do you need help
putting it on?” she asked.
“No but can you get me that
towel?” Larra pointed to
a white cotton towel hanging on a peg.
Melissa gave her a curious look, but did as she was
asked. Larra wrapped the towel
around her hips like a loincloth.
She did not want Melissa to see her bleeding, and any bloodstains
would be hidden under the robe.
Struggling to her feet, Larra wrapped the robe around her and pinned
it in place. “Alright,”
she said calmly, “let’s
go.” Her impassive face
did not betray the unbelievable agony she felt every time she took a
step.
Melissa took her hand and Larra made no effort to retract
it. She felt like a little girl
being taken for a walk by her mother, but was reassured by the gentle touch
of her companion. She would make
it. She would make it or die
trying.
They had little trouble making it out of the
building. Suruani society deemed
to have disintegrated. A human
tide poured down the rat maze of streets, all headed away from one side of
the city and surging toward the other.
Melissa and Larra got caught up in this and were swept along like
straws in a raging river. There
was great danger here, however, for both women, and especially for
Larra. If either of them fell,
they would have been immediately crushed underfoot by the thousands of fleeing
Suruani. Strangely, in the complete
panic that engulfed the city almost no one paid them any
attention. They were two tall
white women surrounded by a tide of dark-skinned humanity, yet only a few
even bothered to give them a curious
glance.
Melissa and Larra did not try to fight the surge of fleeing Suruani, but
rather they let themselves be carried
along. It was much easier than
trying to make their own way, and they supposed they were being carried in
the right direction.
Still, it was a battle for the two women to keep their footing. Larra’s
loins felt as if they were on fire.
She was soon bathed in sweat and was having severe difficulty keeping
her footing. Stonily, she
concentrated on placing one foot in front of the
other. For Melissa, it was not
much better. Only her determination
to help Larra kept her going.
Finally, as they approached the edge of the city, the crowd began
to thin as it exited via several wide gates and poured into the
countryside. Both women experienced
a surge of hope. Perhaps they
were going to make it after all.
The gates behind them, the two women staggered into the farmland around the
city. They had exited on the
side opposite to the one where they had been brought
in. But they could go no
farther. Melissa immediately
began to look for a place to hide.
A short distance away, perhaps a hundred yards, was a whitewashed
farm building. It would do as
well as anywhere. At that moment,
Larra collapsed. Melissa knelt
by her friend. “Come on,
Larra. We’ve got to
hide.”
Larra shook her head. Melissa
felt a sense of despair for the first time since they had staged their
escape. She had used up all of
her own reserves of strength and had nothing left to help
Larra. She tried anyway, attempting
to drag the supine woman in the desired
direction. At that moment, she
heard a shout. She jerked her
head in the direction of the sound.
A sense of helplessness swept over
her. Pouring through the city
gates were several dozen male warriors.
For a second the Lelawabi soldiers hesitated and then they surged
toward the two defenceless women.
Sawatis and Lemaire were almost running as they tried to flank the
city. The attack from the far
side had given them the opportunity they sought – they
hoped. With the population of
the city distracted by the assault of Featherstone and his allies, they hoped
to be able to enter the city on the other
side. What they would do then
they had no idea. The city might
not be large by world standards, but it was still large enough to hide two
women. And they were not even
sure that Larra and Melissa were in the
city. They only knew that they
had been heading in its direction when they had left the
waterfall. It really wasn’t
much of a plan, but it was the best they could come up
with.
They were panting with the exertion of running with full packs and suffering
a little bit from the heat when they finally reached the other side of the
city. Fortunately, it did not
take them too long to work their way around the
city. They found themselves on
top of a small rise covered with trees.
They sat down to survey their
chances. Removing their packs,
they set them in the undergrowth.
They would be able to move much faster without them when the time
came to make a dash for the city walls.
“How we gonna get over those walls?” asked
Lemaire.
“I don’t know,” answered
Sawatis. “Maybe we can find
a ladder in one of those
farmhouses.” He didn’t
sound too optimistic. “Right
now I think we better settle down and see what happens when Featherstone
and his bunch attack.”
“How do you suppose he got all those black warriors on his
side?”
Sawatis just shook his head.
Featherstone seemed to have the most marvelous
luck.
The sound of gunfire told of the opening of the attack on the
city. Sawatis and Lemaire could
imagine the effect of modern firearms on the almost naked female warriors
they had seen. They were not
surprised by the route of the city’s
defenders. Their vantage point
on the hillock allowed them to see much of the action, especially when they
used the powerful binoculars Larra had purchased for the
expedition.
“God, it’s a slaughter,” said
Sawatis. “Those poor
women.”
“Those poor women were armed with pretty dangerous looking spears,”
answered Lemaire. “I’d
hate to be on the receiving end of one of
those.”
“I still don’t like the idea of killing women,” rejoined
Sawatis.
“Me neither. My God, it
is a slaughter.” He was
looking through the binoculars at the frantic retreat of the Suruani from
their city.
“Just like Pizarro and the Incas,” said
Sawatis.
“Pizza and who?” asked
Lemaire.
“Pizarro and the Incas. You
know – the Spanish conquistador who destroyed the greatest Indian
civilization in the
“Never heard of him. And
I thought the white man brought civilization to the
Indians.”
“You ought to read more history.
You’re giving the Metis a bad
name.”
“Here they come,” said Lemaire, changing the subject, his eyes
glued to the binoculars.
“Looks like the whole damn city is trying to
escape.”
While they watched the gates of the city seemed to explode open, emitting
a stream of fleeing men, women, and
children.
“Should we go now?” asked
Lemaire. “Looks like there
is enough confusion for us to take advantage
of.”
“No,” answered Sawatis.
“We’d never force ourselves in against that tide of
refugees. Let’s wait a few
minutes.”
“Christ, there they are!” exclaimed
Lemaire.
Sawatis looked. “Give me
the glasses,” he said, reaching for the
binoculars. He trained them in
the direction Lemaire had indicated.
“You’re right.”
He unslung his rifle from his
shoulder. “Let’s
go.”
Lemaire was already moving in the direction of the two
women. Both men
hurried. They did not like what
they had seen through the binoculars.
Both Melissa and Larra looked as if they had been through a
war.
Melissa looked for something to defend herself
with. The male warriors were
almost within spear throwing range.
She picked up a stick that had been used to support beans in one of
the gardens. It was useless she
knew, but she was determined that she and Larra would not be taken prisoner
again.
The warriors closed in. One of
them raised his spear. And then
his legs buckled and he crumpled to the
ground. The sharp sound of a
shot rang in her ears. Then there
was a second shot and a third. With
each report a warrior fell. The
entire band of warriors suddenly stopped
moving. Another shot, another
dead warrior. Then almost as
one the warriors turned and ran, moving against the flow of people from the
city.
Hardly daring to believe what had happened, Melissa turned slowly in the
direction from which the shots had come.
Takla stood with head held high before the Lelawabi king, but her lower lip
trembled slightly. Her heart
was beating so hard in her chest that she was certain every man in room could
hear it. Her arms were manacled
behind her back by two shackles joined by an iron
bar. They clamped her arms just
above each elbow and forced her to stand with her breasts thrust
forward. Through
the large windows of the throne room she could see a long line of women being
lined up in the courtyard. They
were being roped together for the march to the Lelawabi
city. A few hours before they
had been proud warriors, members of her
army. Now they were slaves, being
marched off to serve their new masters.
And since only the youngest and most athletic of women were accepted
as warriors in the Suruani army, she could guess what that fate might
be.
The rest of her city was under the control of the Lelawabi and the white
male demons who had defeated her warriors with their
magic. The king of the Lelawabi,
Desari intended to annex the city and make it part of his new
empire. But first, he had to
exhibit his power to the population.
Already he had begun. On
her way into the throne room she had passed several former members of the
royal household. They were being
gang-raped by the victorious Lelawabi
soldiers.
Tomorrow Takla knew it would be her turn.
She was to be displayed before the now captive Suruani population,
a captive queen, and the symbol of Desari’s
power.
From the side of the room Featherstone watched the black queen’s
humiliation. He did not yet
understand much of the Lelawabi language, but he knew that King Desari had
delivered a crushing blow to Queen Takla’s
ego. Despite her proud appearance,
he knew that she had been humbled.
Tomorrow she would be further
degraded. And then, and this
was the best part, she would be given to him to do with as he
wished. His eyes traveled over
her luscious body and he licked his lips.
He wondered what it would be like to rape a
queen.
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