Had the fish jumped?
No.
His head jerked toward shore, but he saw only bushes and trees. Maybe something had fallen from above. He raised his eyes to the tree limbs hanging over the water.
This time, he saw it—a quick, tiny blur near his face and dropping into the stream.
He looked again toward the shore. Though he still saw no one, the nearby bushes were dense enough to hide behind.
As he watched, an arm flicked into view and vanished. A stone curved slowly toward him. Reaching out, he caught it. He turned the stone in his hand. It was squarish, with sharp edges, but too small to inflict much damage.
Someone, obviously, was toying with him.
He tossed the stone into the bushes.
A young woman pushed through the foliage and stepped toward the shore. Thick, tangled tresses of blond hair draped her shoulders and breasts. Except for the knife belt low on her hips, she seemed naked.
She stopped at the edge of the stream. Feet apart, hands on hips, she smiled. But only with half her face. It might have been a sneer.
She spoke in a whisper-words unknown to Lander, soft words. Then she drew apart the thick curtain of hair over her left breast. Her forefinger traced circles around the nipple. She spoke again. She bared her other breast.
A hand on each breast, she sighed. Gracefully, she lowered herself to her knees. Her hands massaged. Her breathing quickened.
Lander watched, standing in the chest-high water that concealed his erection.
Was this her way of beckoning him?
The Beckoning Fair One.
he Belle Dam Sans Merci…
Her hands slid down her body, and over the leather belt. They moved down the fronts of her legs, then curved inward, stroking the inner thighs, moving higher, finally caressing her hair-tufted pubis.
She moaned and writhed.
La Belle Dam Sans Merci hath me in thrall
In thrall.
What can ail thee knight at arms?
He touched what ailed him. It was upright and rock hard.
The woman’s hands reached out to him. Wet and shiny from her juices.
Lander waded forward. The water level fell, uncovering him.
The woman’s eyes lowered to his erection. They stared as if locked onto it.
Lander climbed the bank. He stepped close to the kneeling woman. One hand touched him. Its slippery fingers traced the length of his shaft. Her head moved in. She lapped at him, tongue flicking and pressing.
Then she was easing backward, still lightly holding him. Her back touched the ground. She guided his aching cock into her.
Lander pushed. The slick tightness swallowed him. He lay motionless on top of the woman, savoring the dark suction.
He looked at her face. Her wild eyes frightened him, so he pushed away her thick hair and kissed the side of her neck. A leather thong was there. A necklace. His hand moved over the smooth globe of her shoulder, and down to her breast. He fingered the rumpled skin of the aureole, tweezed the upright nipple.
Began slowly to thrust.
Bent, and took the springy nipple into his mouth.
As he humped, sucking and licking the nipple, his eyes focused on her necklace. A dozen shriveled, stubby thumbs were strung on the leather thong.
No, not thumbs.
His teeth clamped the nipple, grinding and chewing as a scream tore his ears.
She bucked and twisted in pain.
Lander held on. Held on with his teeth. Held on with his hands gripping her wrists. He pounded into her, harsh and breathless and finally shaking with his orgasm.
Then he hammered his fist against her face. He hit her again and again, splitting her lips, mashing her nose. He hit her for a long time after she stopped resisting.
“Didn’t get mine.”
He giggled.
“No, you didn’t.”
Then he cut her throat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A giant chased Cordie over a barren, glaring landscape of dunes. She whimpered as she ran.
Oh, if he caught her!
His shadow blocked the sun from her body. Such a cold shadow. She tried to run harder, but the sand clutched her feet, slowing her down.
The arms of the shadow reached out.
A monstrous hand gripped her shoulder. Its fingers felt dry as bone.
She bit off its little finger.
Roaring in pain, the giant released her. She ran on, out of the cold shadow, leaving the giant far behind. But she was lost, and the dunes were strange. She didn’t want to be here, after dark.
Where were Mom and Dad?
They must be nearby. They wouldn’t just leave her all alone in this horrible place.
She tried to yell, but the giant’s finger was still inside her mouth. She pulled it out.
How odd! It was just her size.
She stuck the giant’s finger onto her stump. A perfect fit.
She began running again, but the finger fell off and disappeared in the sand. Dropping to her knees, she raked through the sand, trying to find it.
Ah, here it is!
She pulled, but it was stuck. She pulled harder. Out of the sand came an entire hand!
She staggered back, suddenly afraid.
Someone buried in the sand was rising!
He sat up, sand spilling from his body, and grinned at her. “Hi, Cordie.”
“Ben? I thought you were dead.”
“Not me,” he said, and brushed sand out of his hair.
No, not sand. Ants.
“Ben!”
He brushed harder. His head tumbled off, and dropped onto his lap, and Cordie sat up screaming.
She was in the hut.
Lilly sat at her side. “Nightmare?” the girl asked.
Cordie raised her hand. It was wrapped in a bloody rag. The hand pulsed with pain. “My finger,” she said.
“Yeah. Well, you’re just lucky that’s all you lost. Grar doesn’t trust you much.”
“I told him I’d do it. What does he want! Christ, my finger!”
“We’ve gotta get going. Come on.”
She crawled behind Lilly, keeping her injured hand off the ground. The sunlight outside hurt her eyes. Squinting, she got to her feet.
Grar came forward, his skirt of hair floating over his legs. He held a sword. It looked, to Cordie, like a saber from a Civil War movie. He handed it to Lilly, and spoke in the other language.
Lilly nodded. She turned to Cordie. “Okay. This way.”
She walked beside Lilly. Through the center of the village. Toward a big fire, at the far end, where arms and legs were hanging. Cordie lowered her eyes.
“Tell them you want the head.”
“What?”
“Kigits head. You promised. We’ll pick it up when we get back.”
Lilly led her to the fire. Two women were crouched near it cutting a carcass.
“Sandy.”
One of them stood. Her arms and torso were bloody. Grinning, she wiped sweat off her forehead. Her hand left a red smear.
“This is the gal who nailed Kigit.”
“Hey, congratulations. About time somebody put her away.”
“She wants the head.”
“Oh sure. She does, or you do?”
“Tell her, Cordelia.”
“I want the head.”
“It’s yours.”
“We’ll be by for it later,” Lilly said.
They left. “She’s a bitch,” Lilly muttered.
“Is she like us?”
“A turn? Yeah. You can always tell a turn. We’re the only ones that talk English.”
“What about Grar?”
“He’s no turn. You kidding? Grar’s a full-blooded Krull.”
Cordie walked beside her into the woods.
“You oughtta hear him rattle off his ancestors. All the way back to him.”
“Who, Manfred?”
With a snarl, Lilly flung herself into Cordie and tripped her. She jabbed the saber down. Its tip cut into Cordie’s belly. “Don’t you ever say his name. If you do, I’ll kill you. You get it?”