He rose and crossed the creek and began running again. He rounded a tree and ran headlong into a bear.
Since he and Mary had left High Queen he had been watching for just such an animal.
He knew they were comparatively numerous in this area, because of the Pants-Elf custom of tying up their prisoners and rebellious women and leaving them for the sacred bears to eat.
The bear was a huge black male. He may or may not have been hungry. Perhaps he might have been as frightened by Stagg’s sudden appearance as Stagg was by his. If he’d had a chance, he might have retreated. Stagg was on him so swiftly he must have thought he was being attacked—and being attacked meant attacking back.
He reared back on his hind legs, as was his habit in seizing his helpless human prey. He swung his immense right paw at Stagg’s head. If it had connected it would have scattered the man’s skull like a jigsaw puzzle dumped on a floor.
It did not land, though it came close enough for the claws to tear across Stagg’s scalp. He was knocked to the ground, partly by the force of the blow and partly because his own forward impetus unbalanced him.
The bear dropped to all fours and went after Stagg. Stagg rolled to his feet. He drew his sword and screamed at the bear. The beast, unshaken by the noise, reared up again. Stagg swung his sword, and its edge sliced into the outstretched paw.
Though the bear roared with pain, it advanced. Stagg swung again. This time the paw flicked out with such stunning force against the blade that it knocked it from Stagg’s grip and sent it flying into the weeds.
Stagg leaped after it, bent down to pick it up—and was buried under the enormous weight of the bear. His head was shoved flat into the earth, and his body felt as if it were being pressed flat by a giant iron.
There was a moment when even the bear was confused, for it had overextended its lunge and the man was covered only by its hindquarters. It quickly rolled over and away and then reversed itself. Stagg jumped up and tried to run away. Before he could take two steps, the bear had reared up and folded its front legs around him.
Stagg knew that it was not true that the bear hugs its victim to death, but in that moment he thought that he had met a bear who did not know his natural history. However, the bear was trying to hold Stagg while it raked Stagg’s chest open.
He did not succeed because Stagg broke loose from the embrace. He did not have time to be amazed at his Herculean feat of pushing the extremely powerful legs of the bear apart. If he had, he would have known that the superhuman strength given him by the antlers was responsible.
He jumped away and whirled around to face the animal. Fast as he was, he was too close for flight. Inside fifty meters, a bear could outrun even an Olympic champion.
The bear was on him. Stagg did the only thing he could think of. He hit the animal as hard as he could with his fist on its black snout.
The impact would have broken a man’s jaw. The bear said, “Oof!” and stopped in its tracks. Blood ran from its nostrils, and its eyes crossed.
Stagg did not stay to admire his fistwork. He ran past the stunned beast and tried to pick up his sword. His right hand would not close round the hilt. It hung numbly, paralyzed by the blow he had given the bear.
He reached down with his left hand, picked up the sword, and turned. He was just in time. The bear had recovered enough to make another lunge, though this time it had lost some of its original speed.
Carefully, Stagg raised the sword and then, just as the bear closed in, he swung the edge downward across the thick short neck.
The last thing he saw was the blade sinking deep into the black fur and the spray of crimson that followed.
He woke some time later to find himself in deep pain, the bear lying dead by his side and Mary weeping over him.
Then the pain became overbearing, and he fainted.
When he regained consciousness, his head was on Mary’s lap and water from a canteen was running into his open mouth. His head still hurt abominably. Reaching upward to find out why, he discovered bandages around his head.
The right-hand branch of his antlers was missing.
Mary said, “The bear must have torn it off. I heard the fight from a distance. I could hear the bear roaring and you screaming. I came as fast as I could, though I was scared.”
“If you hadn’t,” he said, “I’d have died.”
“I think so,” she said matter-of-factly. “You were bleeding terribly from the hole left in the bony base of the torn-off antler. I ripped up part of my kilt and managed to stop the flow with it.”
Suddenly, great hot tears fell on his face.
“Now it’s over,” he said, “you can cry all you want. But I’m glad you’re so brave. I couldn’t have blamed you if you’d run away from here.”
“I couldn’t have done that,” she sobbed. “I—I think I love you. Of course, I wouldn’t have left anyone to die like this. Besides I was scared to be alone.”
“I heard what you said the first time,” he replied. “I can’t see how you could love a monster like me. But if it’ll make you feel better, and not worse, I love you, too—even if it didn’t look like it a while ago.”
He touched the broken-off part of the base of the antlers and winced. “Do you think this will cut my... my compulsion in half?”
“I don’t know. I wish it would. Only... I thought that if the antlers were removed, you’d die from the shock.”
“I did too. Maybe the priestesses lied. Or maybe the whole set has to be removed before a fatal shock occurs. After all, the bony base is still intact, and one of the antlers is still operating. I don’t know.”
“You quit thinking about it,” she said. “Do you think you could eat? I’ve cooked some bear steak.”
“Is that what I smell?” he said, sniffing. He looked at the carcass. “How long was I out?”
“You were unconscious all day and night and part of the morning,” she said. “And don’t worry about the smoke from the fire. I know how to make a small smokeless fire.”
“I think I’ll be all right then,” he said. “The horns have great regenerative powers. I wouldn’t be surprised if it grew back.”
“I will pray that it won’t,” she said. She went to the fire and removed two slices of bear steak from a wooden spit. In a moment, he was eating a loaf of bread and the steaks.
“I must be getting better,” he said. “All of a sudden I’m hungry enough to eat a bear.”
Two days later he could look back on what he had said and laugh, because he had eaten the bear. There was nothing left except skin, bones, and entrails; even the brains had been cooked and devoured.
By then he felt ready to move again. The bandage had been removed from the wound just above the bony base of the antlers, and a cleanly healing scar was disclosed.
“At least, it’s not going to grow out again,” he said. He looked at Mary. “Well, here we are again. Just where we started when I ran away from you. I’m beginning to feel the urge again.”
“Does that mean we have to separate again?” From her tone, it was impossible to tell if she wanted him to leave or not.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I was convalescing,” he said. “One thing that I thought of was that when the Pants-Elf were taking us to High Queen, I felt a definite diminution of the drive. I think it happened because I was underfed. I’m going to propose that we stay together, but I go on a starvation diet. I’ll eat just enough to keep me going, but not enough to stimulate this... this desire. It’ll be hard, but I can do it.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. She hesitated, then blushed and said, “We’re going to have to do one thing, though. I must get rid of this belt. No, not for the reason you might be thinking. It’s driving me out of my mind. It cuts and chafes, and it presses me so tightly around the middle I can scarcely breathe.”
“As soon as we get into Deecee territory and find a farmhouse,” he said, “I’ll steal a file. We’ll get rid of that devil’s device.??
?
“All right. Just so you don’t misunderstand my motives,” she said. He picked up the sack, and they started off.
They proceeded as swiftly as they could, considering the handicap the belt gave Mary. They were very cautious, sensitive to any strange noise. There was not only a chance of running into the inevitable party from High Queen searching for them but a chance of encountering hostile Deecee.
They crossed the Shawangunk Mountains. Then, as they came into a glade through which the path ran, they saw the men who had come out of High Queen to avenge the deaths of their friends.
They must have been so intent on running down the two escapees that they had been utterly surprised by the ambushing Deecee. Now they hung from the trunks of trees where they had been tied before their throats were cut, or their bones lay at the foot of the trees. What the bears had not eaten, the foxes had; and what the foxes had overlooked, the crows were now picking.
“We’ll have to be more cautious than ever,” Stagg said. “I doubt if the Deecee have given up looking for us yet.”
He did not speak with his accustomed vigor. He was pounds lighter, and his eyes were ringed with black. His horn flopped with every motion of his head. When he sat down to eat, he finished his short rations and then looked longingly at Mary’s portion. Sometimes, he left the campsite and lay down where he could not see her until she was through eating.
The worst of it was, he could not forget food even when he slept. He dreamed of tables bending beneath the weight of a hundred savory dishes and huge stone mugs filled with cold dark beer. And when he was not distressed by these visions, he dreamed again of the maidens he had met during the Great Route. Though his drive was considerably lessened by lack of food, it was still stronger than most men’s. There were times when, after Mary had fallen asleep, he had to go into the woods to relieve the terrible tension. He felt deeply ashamed afterwards, but it was preferable to taking Mary by force.
He did not dare kiss Mary. She seemed to understand this, since she made no attempt to kiss him. Nor did she again refer to having told him she loved him. Perhaps, he thought, she did not love him. She had been overcome with emotion because he had not been killed; the words might just have been an expression of relief.
After coming across the bones of the Pants-Elf, they left the trail and cut straight across the woodlands. Their speed was reduced, but they felt safer.
They reached the banks of the Hudson. That night, Stagg broke into a barn and found a file. He had to kill the watchdog, which he did by strangling it before it managed to bark more than twice. They returned to the woods where Stagg took four hours to cut through the belt with the file. The steel was hard, and he had to be careful not to hurt Mary. Then he gave her some ointment he had found in the barn, and she went into the brush to rub it on the chafed and infected places. Stagg shrugged his shoulders at this incongruous modesty. They had seen each other unclothed many times. But, of course, she had not been able to control the situation then.
When she came back, they walked along the bank until they found a boat tied to a wooden dock. They untied it and rowed across. Stagg shoved the boat out into the current, and they began walking eastward. For two nights they walked, hiding and sleeping during the days. Stagg stole some more food from a farmhouse just outside the town of Poughkeepsie. When he returned to Mary in the woods, he sat down and devoured three times what he was supposed to eat. Mary was alarmed, but he told her that he had to because he could feel his cells turning cannibal.
After he had eaten half of the food and also drank a whole bottle of wine, he sat quietly for a while. Then he said to Mary, “I’m sorry, but I just can’t stand it any more. I have to go back to the farmhouse.”
“Why?” she said alarmedly.
“Because the men there are gone, probably into town. And there are three women there, two of them good-looking girls. Mary, can you understand?”
15
“No!” she said, “I can’t. Even if I could, do you think you should endanger us by returning there? Those women will tell their men when they return, and the priestesses at Vassar will be notified. And we’ll have them on our track. We’d be sure to get caught if they knew we were in this neighborhood.”
“I know you’re right,” he said. “But I can’t stand it. I ate too much. It’s either those two women or you.”
Mary rose to her feet. She looked as if she were going to attempt something she disliked but must do.
“If you’ll turn around a moment,” she said, her voice quivering, “I think I can solve your problem.”
Ecstatically, he said, “Mary, would you really? You don’t know what this means to me!”
He turned away, and, despite his almost unbearably keen anticipation, he had to smile. How like her to be so modest about unclothing just before she bedded with him.
He heard her stir behind him. “Can I turn around now?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I’m not ready.”
He heard her approach him and he said, impatiently, “Is it all right to turn around now?”
“Not yet,” she said, standing behind him.
“I can’t stand waiting much longer...”
Something hit him hard on the back of the head. He blacked out.
When he awoke, he was on his side, his arms bound behind him and his legs tied together at the ankles. She had cut into two the thin rope he had put into the bag before escaping from the Pants-Elf. Near him was a large rock which he supposed she had used to knock him out.
Seeing his eyes open, she said, “I’m terribly sorry, Peter. I had to do that. If you’d put the Deecee on our trail, we might not have escaped.”
“There are two bottles of whiskey in the sack,” he said. “Prop me up against a tree trunk and put a bottle to my lips. I want to drink the whole quart. One, because I need something to kill this pain in my head. Two, because unless I drink myself unconscious, I’ll go crazy from frustration. Three, I want to forget what a black-hearted bitch you are!”
She did not reply but did obey him, holding the bottle to his mouth and withdrawing it from time to time when he quit gulping.
“I’m sorry, Peter.”
“To hell with you! Why did I have to get stuck with somebody like you? Why couldn’t I have run off with a real woman? Keep feeding me the whiskey.”
In two hours, he had drunk two-thirds of the fifth. He sat quietly for a few seconds, his eyes staring straight ahead. Then he groaned and fell asleep.
The next morning, he woke to find himself untied. He did not complain of his hangover or say anything to her. He merely watched her while she placed his rations before him. After breakfast, during which he drank much water, they began walking east in silence.
Toward midmorning, Mary spoke. “No farms in the last two hours. And the forest is thinning out and the land getting rockier. We’re in the wastelands between Deecee and Caseyland. We must be more careful than ever, because we’re likely to run into war parties of either nation.”
“What’s wrong with meeting your people?” Stagg said. “They’re the boys we want, aren’t they?”
“They might shoot first and identify us later,” Mary said, nervously.
“Okay,” he answered harshly. “So we’ll holler out at them from a distance. Tell me, Mary, are you certain I’ll not be treated as a Deecee captive? After all, this horn might prejudice them.”
“Not after I tell them how you saved my life. And that you can’t help being a Sunhero. Of course...”
“Of course what?”
“You’ll have to submit to an operation. I don’t know if my people have medical skill enough to remove your horn without killing you, but you’ll have to take that chance. Otherwise, you’ll be locked up. And you know that would drive you crazy. You can’t be allowed to run loose in this condition. And, naturally, I wouldn’t think of marrying you while you still have that horn. Oh yes, you must first be baptized in our belief. I wouldn’t marry a heathen. I couldn’t if I wante
d to; we kill heathens.”
Stagg didn’t know whether to roar with anger, bellow with laughter, or weep with sadness. As a result, he expressed no emotion. Instead, he spoke levelly, “I don’t remember asking you to marry me.”
“Oh, but you don’t have to,” she replied. “It is enough that we spent one night together without chaperones. In my country, that means that a man and a woman must get married. In fact, that is often one way to announce your engagement.”
“But you’ve done nothing to justify a forced marriage,” he said. “You’re still a virgin. At least, as far as I know.”
“I most certainly am! But it makes no difference. It is taken for granted that a man and a woman who spend the night together must succumb to the flesh, however strong the will. That is, unless they are saints. And if they’re saints, they don’t allow such situations to happen.”
“Then why in blue skies and rocketing nonsense have you been so determined to be a good girl?” he said loudly. “If you’re going to have the name, you might as well have the game.”
“Because I wasn’t brought up that way. Because,” she added somewhat smugly, “it doesn’t matter what people think. It is what the Mother sees that counts.”
“Sometimes you’re so sanctimonious I could wring your pretty little neck! Here I’ve been suffering agonies of frustration such as you’ll never know, and all the time you could have eased my pain without any moral blemish on your part—and had a time such as few women ever get!”
“There’s no need to get angry,” she said. “After all, it wasn’t as if it had occurred at home, where we could be killed before we could be married. And then I would have sinned. Besides, you’re not in the normal category. You have that horn. That puts you in a special case. I’m sure it’ll take a learned priest to straighten out all the complexities.”