Adventure stories; Satellites -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
"Your hair is the color of the sun!" she said. "Your garb is Vasad, yet
you speak the language of the true men." Her violet oddly slanting eyes
opened yet wider. "Who are you?"
"I am Noork," the man told her. "For many days have I dwelt among the
wild Vasads of the jungle with their golden-skinned chief, Gurn, for
my friend."
The girl impulsively took a step nearer. "Gurn!" she cried. "Is he tall
and strong? Has he a bracelet of golden discs linked together with
human hair? Does he talk with his own shadow when he thinks?"
"That is Gurn," admitted Noork shortly. "He is also an exile from the
walled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has told
me the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?"
"Indeed I do," cried Sarna. "My brother said that we should no longer
make slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys."
Noork smiled. "I am glad he is your brother," he said simply.
* * * * *
The girl's eyes fell before his admiring gaze and warm blood flooded
into her rounded neck and lovely cheeks.
"Brown-skinned one!" she cried with a stamp of her shapely little
sandalled foot. "I am displeased with the noises of your tongue. I will
listen to it no more."
But her eyes gave the provocative lie to her words. This brown-skinned
giant with the sunlit hair was very attractive....
The girl was still talking much later, as they walked together along
the game-trail. "When my captors were but one day's march from their
foul city of Bis the warriors of the city of Konto, through whose
fertile valley we had journeyed by night, fell upon the slavers.
"And in the confusion of the attack five of us escaped. We returned
toward the valley of Grath, but to avoid the intervening valley where
our enemies, the men of Konto, lived, we swung close to the Lake of
Uzdon. And the Misty Ones from the Temple of the Skull trailed us. I
alone escaped."
Noork lifted the short, broad-bladed sword that swung in its sheath
at his belt and let it drop back into place with a satisfying whisper
of flexible leather on steel. He looked toward the east where lay the
mysterious long lake of the Misty Ones.
"Some day," he said reflectively, "I am going to visit the island of
the unseen evil beings who stole away your friends. Perhaps after I
have taken you to your brother's hidden village, and from there to
your city of Grath...." He smiled.
The girl did not answer. His keen ears, now that he was no longer
speaking, caught the scuffing of feet into the jungle behind him. He
turned quickly to find the girl had vanished, and with an instinctive
reflex of motion he flung himself to one side into the dense wall of
the jungle. As it was the unseen club thudded down along his right arm,
numbing it so he felt nothing for some time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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