The Plains of Abraham

Chapter 18

She was still fully dressed, for the sake of modesty, or anticipating some sport with her, or for some other reason, I didn't know. Her skin was the color of umber and her hair was slate-black. In Kebek such complexion would sentence her to slavery, to a life of grueling labor that would fray her femininity and blanch her appeal.

The leader untied her from the post and eyed her head to toe. She met his gaze calmly. Lumps on the Garhog's face, so close to me now, revealed themselves to be iridescent. The skin covering them was transparent, and some of the lumps oozed pus. They weren't growths after all. They were cysts.

He smiled. His teeth were crooked and filed down to points. "Ready for your go?" he asked.

"The question is," Adrienne answered, "are you ready for yours?"

The Garhog's smile dissolved. In one motion he grabbed her tunic and ripped it off, exposing her breasts. She stood proudly, still with a calm expression, still matching the gaze of the Garhog leader. Other mutants circled and packed in behind him. Men and women both reached to touch Adrienne's bare skin.

The leader swung at them and forced them back. He removed a copper dagger from his belt. To Adrienne he said, "Your time has come."

She cocked an ear. Listened to a far-off sound. In the space of seconds the sky darkened noticeably. A breeze rose in the forest canopy, rattling the leaves.

She looked at the Garhog and smiled. "No," she said, "yours has."

The Garhog leader lifted his free hand to slap her.

His body jolted. He froze with his arm raised. He dropped to his knees, his arm still raised, his eyes fluttering. An arrow protruded from his back.

Adrienne took the dagger from his hand and thrust it into his squat neck, beneath his chin, arcing it upwards, into his brain. He toppled to the ground and landed heavily on his face.

Pandemonium. Arrows whizzed across the compound. Garhogs were loud shriekers individually; in a group they were deafening.

The palisades had been breached. Men in leather armor, packing bows and quills, had climbed to the top from the outside and were firing into the crowd. The compound was in chaos.

Adrienne untied me and we ran to Malcolm, who had barely regained consciousness. I removed the stone necklace and swung it at a passing Garhog, knocking him senseless. Arrows whistled everywhere. We supported Malcolm on either side, with his arms draped over our shoulders, and the three of us ran for cover. We found an empty bark cabin and crouched inside. From outside came the cries of men and women in their death throes. Adrienne was tending to Malcolm, so I left to help with the fight.

The Garhogs were scattering. The attackers looked like normal men; I didn't think they'd mistake me for an enemy. I found a club on the ground and joined them in the attack.

We fought the mutants in hand-to-hand combat through their cabins, across their meeting areas and what looked like a playground, to the rear of their compound. Where they crouched in defensive positions, brandishing clubs and spears. Some tried to escape by scaling the palisades, but we brought them down with slingshots and arrows.

One of the attackers, a tall gaunt man with a flowing red beard, ordered his men to line up. They loaded their bows with arrows. They drew their bowstrings.

"Shoot!" the bearded man ordered.

Garhogs stiffened and crumpled to the ground. Those still on their feet waved their clubs and shrieked in fury.

"Shoot!"

More Garhogs fell. While the attackers were reloading a Garhog female rushed the bearded man with a club. I dashed toward them and placed myself between the two. The woman, who wore only a modest wrap around her hips, had arms and thighs rippling with muscles. She appeared as strong as any man I had seen.

She swung her club at the bearded leader, but hit me instead. I went down. She raised her club again. The bearded man drew a sword. The two fought, sword against club, she blocking the sword, he dodging the club.

Arrows launched at the female warrior. They protruded from her shoulder, abdomen, and thigh. She screamed each time she was hit, but continued fighting. More arrows were fired. She screamed more, this time raising her club to the sky in defiance.

The bearded man saw his opportunity and impaled the woman through her gut.

The club fell from her hand. She grunted and looked at the sword with disdain.

He yanked the sword out and stuck it in her again. And again. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell.

Now all the Garhogs were scaling the wooden palisades to escape.

"Shoot! Shoot!"

Mutants fell, but others succeeded in crossing to the outside of the compound. We could already hear escapees howling in the woods beyond, no doubt working themselves up to counterattack.

As the battlefield cleared, and humans got busy sending wounded mutants to the afterlife, the bearded man approached and asked my name.

"René Jordan," I said. "Accompanying me is Father Malcolm Marchand. We come from Kebek on the coast of the eastern ocean."

"I am Berthold," the man said, "King of Ellanoy. How beautiful the sun is, now that you are among us."

***

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