King Of Zunga rb-12 Read online

  Blade smiled. «Your Majesty understands very well the way to train warriors in a new way of fighting. It is what we do among the English also. But must Nayung come now? He will not be able to walk.»

  «He can travel by litter. And you will need his advice about the laws and customs of the Zungans. Listen to him, for he is a wise man as well as an excellent warrior.»

  «That is the way I see him also.»

  «Then, so be it. We leave tomorrow at dawn.» Afuno raised a massive hand in a gesture that was part wave, part blessing, and strode out. Blade turned to Nayung and saw the Zungan warrior was awake and grinning broadly.

  «We are off to a good start, Blade. But it is no more than that so far. And we have also been very lucky.»

  «That we have.»

  Warriors of the Royal Guard routed them out of their sleep while it was still dark the next morning, bringing food and beer and a litter for Nayung. They were on the move before the sun had cleared the walls of Brona, and the sky was still pink and gold as they crossed the field. The bodies of the slave raiders still swung gently from their poles, but three new poles had been added. The bodies swinging from these were Zungans. One body was headless.

  Afuno saw the curiosity on Blade’s face and grinned. «The one with no head is Chamba. I would have fed his head to the pigs, but they would get little food from it. There was not much in that skull of his. The other two are the warriors who ran from you when you disarmed them. That was the act of a coward, and there will be no cowards among the Zungans while I rule.»

  Blade nodded, his face expressionless. He did not object to any of the punishments. But they were a sharp reminder of the harsh, bloody world in which he had begun to make his way.

  Outside the gates of Brona the royal caravan formed up. Four hundred warriors, a hundred slaves, assorted free members of the royal household, and the royal family itself. More than five hundred men and women in all, and more than a hundred cattle. Some of these bore the platforms and litter, others carried supplies and equipment, others were simply driven along to provide fresh meat. The pace of the caravan was limited to the leisurely amble of the cattle. Tired as he was, Blade found that frustratingly slow.

  Though the caravan moved slowly, it started early and kept on all day, with only one short break for water and food. The water came around in skin bags. It was warm and tasted foul, but after hours of marching in the sun, Blade was too thirsty to care. As he drank, he sensed somebody’s eyes on him. Spinning around, he saw Princess Aumara quickly turn her graceful head away and go back to staring straight ahead. In the momentary glimpse he had of her eyes, he saw they were wide, brown, and once again filled with an unmistakable curiosity. But it was hard to believe this curiosity could lead to anything here and now, out on the plain in the middle of the entire royal caravan.

  The sun was dipping below the horizon before they reached the waterhole that was their goal and campsite. By the light of torches the household slaves pitched hide tents, laid out food, refilled the water bags, and lit fires. The warriors refilled their water bottle’s, gnawed pieces of dried meat, then moved out into the darkness to form a wide protective circle around the camp.

  There were eight tents-one for the king, one for each of his daughters, one for Blade and Nayung, and one for the royal advisers. Everybody else would sleep on the ground, under the stars. And soon everybody was asleep, except for the warriors on guard and the slaves tending the fires.

  Blade found that he could not sleep. Things were moving too fast for his mind to adjust to them. He was rising among the Zungans-in fact, he was shooting up like a skyrocket. And there was nothing to support his position except the favor of Afuno, his own skills, and a great deal of luck. So far the luck had been running his way. He hoped that it would continue.

  Although he had been walking all day, he decided that perhaps a short walk around the camp would relax him as much as anything could. Nayung was asleep, and Blade did not disturb him as he slipped out of the tent and stepped out into the flickering orange glow of the firelight.

  He kept walking, feeling the breeze blow over his skin, blowing away some of the tension. Out here the fire was reduced to an orange blotch on the dark plain, dimly showing up the hunched forms of the tents around it. From over nearer to the waterhole, the cattle stirred restlessly, and occasionally one bawled loud and harsh. A half moon rode high in a sky filled with more stars than Blade had ever seen before.

  How long he sat there he didn’t know. In time he realized that the temperature was dropping, and he thought of drifting back toward the warmth of the fire. He started to rise. As he did so, he realized that someone was standing in front of him, looking down at him.

  He stood up, and found himself looking down at the figure. The face tilted upward, and in the faint moonlight Blade saw two wide eyes shining up into his. His jaw set hard. It was Princess Aumara.

  The silence went on and on, those two eyes still gleaming upward. Finally Blade heard a soft laugh, and Aumara spoke. «What is it, Richard Blade of the English? Do you find my company unpleasant?»

  «No, Princess. Only surprising. Why are you wandering about outside your tent?»

  «Do the English keep their women locked up, like the Kandans?»

  Blade was startled, and it showed in his voice. «No. Why do you ask?»

  «If they do not, why are you surprised that I do not sit and stifle in my tent? The air is so good and clean out here on the plain.»

  «It is. But aren’t you afraid of being-bothered?» Blade could not think of a more tactful word at the moment.

  «Who would bother me?» asked Aumara. Not arrogantly, but simply asking a question about a matter that she regarded as self-evident. «I am the First Princess of Zunga. It is death to show disrespect to me. And it would not even be necessary to wait for my father’s guards and judgment to bring that death.» She reached up for the thong that held her robe together at the waist, undid it, and did a little whirling step. The robe lifted, showing a belt around her waist with two gleaming knives in it. It also showed that she wore nothing else under her robe. Blade had a fleeting glimpse of a trim waist and full round thighs converging in a curly dark mass of hair in the center.

  Blade jumped as if he had been stung. He had not exactly been afraid of this, but he could see a hideous host of complications following in its wake. Aumara noticed his reaction, and her eyes blazed into his again.

  «Is there a problem, Richard Blade? Do you perhaps find me not desirable? No, I see that is not the case, whatever you may say.» She pointed down at Blade’s groin. He was entirely too aware that his manhood had risen. As usual it obeyed no will but its own.

  «My tongue will not lie to you, Princess. Why should it? You are a beautiful woman. My mind and my manhood agree on that. But you are also a princess of the Zungans. Suppose I took you, and did not please you? Dawn might find me lying here stiff with one of your knives stuck in me. And suppose I pleased you, but my pleasing you did not please your father? Then the dawn might find me hanging downward from a pole, with the smoke of my burning guts rising up around me. And there are important things I have to do in Zunga.» He very nearly added, «More important than servicing a randy princess,» but realized that would be suicidally untactful. Instead he substituted, «Things that will not be done if I die.»

  «I like that, Blade,» said Aumara. «I am not so vain that I rejoice in having a man fling away all his plans and duties to take me. But I can assure you there is no danger. I believe you will do your best, and no man can do any more. If your best is not good enough for me, there simply will be no other time. But if it is…» She left the sentence snidely unfinished. «And my father will say nothing, even if he learns of what we have done. He does not see fit to keep me in a cage, now that I am a grown woman. Even less will he try to hold me back now that my last brother is dead and I will be joint ruler of Zunga with a husband someday.»

  She reached up to undo the thongs at the neck of her robe, then shrugge
d the robe to the ground. Nude except for the belt, she stood before him. Her skin was very smooth and its mahogany color had a slight sheen in the moonlight. Blade stared. In spite of his surprise, he felt his erection rise and stiffen still further.

  «Here and now, Princess?»

  «None will be looking or listening for us, Blade. If we are married, our first bedding will be before a royal assembly with ten thousand Zungan warriors looking on and giving you advice. Why not here and now?»

  Aumara’s mention of their being married nearly made Blade’s erection collapse on the spot. Aumara noticed this. «Ah, Blade, I surprised you, did I not? But come, I think I see a little life still down there.» One long-fingered hand drifted down, then up under Blade’s loincloth. Her fingers played busily and in a few moments she smiled. «As I thought, there is life. It is time, Blade. It is time.»

  She unbuckled her belt and let it fall to the ground. Blade undid his loincloth and tossed it down on top of her robe. Then he stepped forward and put his arms around her, drawing her close to him, until her face lay against his shoulder. His hands went from the back of her neck down the straight back with its smooth, velvety skin, stroking, caressing, cupping the firm, perfectly rounded buttocks. Looking down, he saw her eyes close and her lips curl up in a smile. A smile of contentment so far, like a baby being held or a cat being petted. No passion in it yet.

  He raised a hand and tilted her chin up until their lips could meet. Her mouth was rigid and stiff for a moment, for she seemed unfamiliar with kissing. Then it flowed open, and her small delicate tongue leaped out to meet his, moving like a living thing. Her arms rose from her sides and locked around his body. Her, hands met in the small of his back and began a gentle pressure there.

  He pulled away for a moment’s breath and looked at Aumara’s face again. Yes, there was passion showing now, no mistaking it. Suddenly she sank to her knees, hands still clasped at the small of Blade’s back. Her mouth opened, then warm, wet lips closed down on Blade’s swollen member.

  If Blade had felt aroused before, her expert fellatio brought him higher, and then higher still. He had to clamp down all his self-control to keep from a fierce and savage coming. His body was bowed backward as he fought for restraint. Aumara’s hands pulled him forward bit by bit, as her lips worked their way up his organ. It seemed that she wanted to take the whole massive swollen rod in her mouth.

  Suddenly she withdrew, with final twisting motions of her lips as they passed over the end that nearly put an end to Blade. He let out something between a groan and a sigh of relief as the steadily rising pressure faded away to something more tolerable.

  Now he wanted to be in her, desperately wanted to feel her wet canal tightening around him. He knelt down on the ground, grasping her firmly by the upper arms. Then he lay back, and as he did so, he pulled her slowly but firmly down on him, penetrating her just as slowly and firmly.

  She was aroused and dripping and no virgin-that he felt the moment he entered. Her head went back at such an angle that for a moment Blade wondered how her neck could manage it, and her eyes rolled up in her head. She was no virgin indeed! She was expert and hungry and demanding. Her hips began to move in a slow circular rolling motion that alternately tightened and loosened the pressure on him. Again he had to fight for self-control.

  Up and down, around and around she churned. Her breath came now in great whooping gasps, so loud that Blade half expected a dozen guards to wander over to find out what the noise was. Next to his losing control, the last thing he wanted was a mob of spectators.

  It went on and on, and fortunately so did Blade. There was more than one time when he knew absolutely that another half second of Aumara’s stimulation would bring him over the top. But she always sensed those moments, and always slowed her movements by just the little bit needed to save the situation. In spite of the coolness, they were both sweating now. Aumara’s sweat dripped down off her writhing body onto Blade and mixed with his.

  Blade’s hands had been holding onto her arms all this time. Now they seemed to develop a will of their own, moving inward and down. Her nipples jutted forward from her full, perfectly curved breasts, hard little points. His hands kept moving, down over the curves of her breasts, down over the nipples.

  As his hands cupped her breasts, she exploded. The scream rising in her throat died in a hiss, but her body arched like a bow in a series of wild convulsions. Then so did Blade’s, as he bent himself upward, driving still deeper as he gushed and spurted into her. He fell back on the ground, Aumara sagged down on top of him and lay with her head on his shoulder, his relaxing organ still inside her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Blade was never quite sure how he and Aumara got back to their tents afterward. And he had only vague memories of rolling himself up in his hide cloak after crawling back into the tent. But he had very vivid memories of the encounter the next morning, when the bawling of the cattle as they were watered and the clatter of the pots as the slaves prepared breakfast roused him out before dawn.

  Vivid memories, and pleasant ones. Aumara was beautiful, and she had obviously been well satisfied. Her interest in him was another piece of luck. Whether it was good or bad he couldn’t say right now. As long as he could satisfy with both his wits, and his virility his luck should remain good. But the affairs of princesses could develop nasty complications at a moment’s notice. So could affairs with princesses. He would have to do his best, and rely on the ruthless but apparently just King Afuno to take up any slack.

  They were on the move again, before all the dawn colors had faded from the sky, ambling along at the same tedious pace as the day before. The plain stretched out before them, as bare and flat and empty as before. It was not until nearly sundown that the smoke and the herds of Dorkalu, the Zungan capital, came in sight.

  «We are almost home,» said Aumara. The grin she gave Blade made it obvious what home meant to her, at least for the moment. It meant more privacy and comfort for them and their lovemaking. Blade decided not to try explaining to her how much time he would have to spend training the warriors, assuming that the Great D’bors and the On’ror let him.

  The homeward-bound herds thickened, until the warriors had to form a ring around the caravan to keep its cattle and those of the herds separate. A few minutes later Blade made out a long, dark line on the horizon. «The walls of Dorkalu,» Aumara said.

  The sun dipped below the horizon and the tropical darkness swallowed up the land. A little after that, torches sparked in the darkness ahead as warriors came out from the city to escort the caravan the final miles to it. And eventually more torches sparked in the darkness ahead, held by men standing on top of the walls themselves. These stretched out of sight into the darkness on either side, and rose more than twenty feet above the plain. Dead ahead lay a massive gate, wide enough for a dozen men to march through.

  The cattle turned aside instead of going through the gate. In Dorkalu, the herds had their own separate compounds outside the walls, each with its own fortifications and guards. But the royal caravan kept straight on.

  The gate squealed and groaned open, and the caravan marched through without breaking formation or step. On the other side of the massive walls an inner gate led out onto another of the enormous open fields. Blade could not even see its edges in the darkness. What he could see would have swallowed Brona twice over. In the center of the field rose what could only be King Afuno’s palace, looming behind its own wall, its roof and balconies outlined by still more flickering torches.

  Now the caravan broke up in a flurry of barked orders and slaves and warriors hustling about on a dozen different errands. Afuno leaped down from his platform as lightly as any young warrior and came over to Blade. Four warriors nearly as large as he was stood on each side of him.

  «Blade,» he said, «we must move quickly before the Ulungas try to make people forget Chamba’s sacrilege and remember only that I went against their word. They will not have an easy time of it, for Chamba’s
sacrilege was great and public. But they may do it, and if they do, we will be back where we started. I will not give you up to the Ulungas. But in such a case I would not be able to give you a chance to train my warriors in your English fighting arts.»

  He sighed. «If I had one son left-just one-I could throw myself against the Ulungas, sacrifice myself to bring them down. And then my son could rule a kingdom in which the Ulungas had no more power. But there are only daughters left. It is always a delicate thing to set up the joint rule of a princess and her consort. It is too delicate a thing to survive what might happen if I fought the Ulungas openly.»

  Blade was worried. This gloomy note was something new for Afuno. «Surely at least the War Council will not listen to the Ulungas?»

  «The Great Mors are supposed to be like you-wise men, not just warriors with strong arms and thick heads. Not all of them are. And the On’ror is only partly a war leader. He also speaks for the Ulungas in questions of war. He will speak this time, and he will speak loudly. I only hope nobody listens to him. At least, not until you have done your work for the Zungans.»

  In spite of these disturbing words, Blade managed to get a good night’s sleep. It turned out he needed it, because the next morning a summons to appear before the War Council came.

  Like most Zungan public business, attending the War Council had to be done on an empty stomach. Blade supposed this was certainly one way of discouraging long speeches. But he would rather have sat through any number of speeches with something in his stomach than face the War Council and present his case with his empty stomach growling like a starving dog.

  By now he was used to explaining himself, his fighting arts, and the English people to the Zungans, while putting his best foot forward. He tried to avoid claiming too much for his fighting skills, pointing out that he had never seen slave raiders in action. But if they were as he had heard them described, he could certainly teach the Zungans how to do much better against them. They would not win every fight, but they would win many more. And they would do this without any sacrilegious violations of the Sky Father’s laws, such as throwing their spears as Chamba had done. Blade saw Afuno smile at the mention of Chamba.