The Lion of Farside by John Dalmas

He stayed on his feet, walking the perimeter to stay awake. Paying only occasional attention to his surroundings—the horses would tell him if anything was prowling. Part of the time he occupied his mind with Varia and Melody. Jeremid was a good-looking young guy; maybe Melody would decide it was him she wanted. At least she might settle for him. Hell, he told himself, they could be humping in the hay right now, for all you know. They’re Ozians, and she sounded horny enough.

A twinge of jealousy surprised and irritated him. Briefly he examined his feelings, and there was no doubt: Varia was his love. Melody was—nice and kind and tough. And crazy to have run off with him; reckless at least. In Oztown she’d been someone important and privileged, and she’d thrown it away, apparently because she wanted to be humped by him, even though he’d already turned her down. Or could she actually love me? He examined the possibility to no conclusion.

The watch wore on. Several times he added wood to the fires, twice went back to the cookpot, and occasionally checked the Dipper before deciding his three hours were up and returning to the shed. Crawling, he groped, finding a bare foot that could only be Melody’s. It pulled away with a rustling of old hay.

“Macurdy?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

She rustled around some more, finding her boots, then got up and went outside to put them on. He felt an urge to follow her, talk with her, learn more about this girl who said she loved him. But his mouth hurt, and besides, it felt dangerous. So instead he found his blanket and settled down, leaving his boots on as before, in case of emergency.

It was daylight and the sun about to rise when Jeremid woke him. “Macurdy,” he said, “Melody and I talked last night.”

The words brought a pang: They’ve decided to pair up, to leave me and go back. But that made no sense. They could hardly go back now. “She told me about your wife,” Jeremid went on. “What does she look like?”

Macurdy frowned. An odd question to be asked on waking. “She’s beautiful. Long red hair and green tilty eyes.”

“And the people with her? Do you know?”

He’s seen her! Macurdy’s mind focused. “Another good-looking woman, and a man. The woman’s name is Idri; her hair is auburn, and she’s got tilty eyes too, only not as green.”

“God! That was the name: Idri. The other was Varia. They came into Oztown about a year ago, with a bull of a guard. The chief loaned them an escort, and I was one of them. Your wife was a prisoner.”

Macurdy’s throat was dry now. “Right. I had to wait a month before the gate opened again and I could follow them.”

Melody had come to the door, and stood looking in at them, listening.

“We took them east, across the Great Muddy,” Jeremid said. “They got other escorts there, and we came back.” He shook his head. “Your wife’s the prettiest woman I ever saw. And dangerous! Her guard tried to rape her one night. I don’t know what she did, but he screamed the worst scream I ever imagined. I ran over with a torch, and they were both there with their breeches off. Your wife looked at me and said never to try raping a Sister, or I’d end up like him. He was doubled over with his hands in his crotch, hardly able to whimper. Then the other Sister came with a saber and ran him through.”

Melody spoke, her voice flat. “Sounds like she’s worth saving, Macurdy. Congratulations.” Then she turned and walked out of sight.

Jeremid’s story shook Macurdy so, it took him several minutes to get up and come out of the shed. Varia had got through that experience seemingly unhurt, and Idri had killed the guy, but what a terrible damned thing to almost happen.

They ate more turkey, then left the rest for Blue Wing. Breaking camp amounted to little more than catching their hobbled horses and saddling them, taking the cookpot and ax they’d found there. The sun was still low when they rode away eastward, shielding their eyes from it with a hand. Here there was a clear trail to follow. After a bit, Blue Wing caught up with them. I suppose this is interesting to him, Macurdy thought. He can share it with the rest of his people.

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