The 53rd Golden Age of Science Fiction MEGAPACK® by Geoff St. Reynard

Author:Geoff St. Reynard [Reynard, Geoff St.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2021-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER IX

And now the squire has trapped the Mink,

And now he sets him free,

And now the Mink is hunted down

On hill and vale and lea.

He pants and gasps, his legs grow weak,

His eyes with sweat are blind;

In squire’s halloo and hound’s mad bark

He hears his death behind!

—Ruck’s Ballad of the Mind

* * * *

They took Revel to the top of a hill just behind Ewyo’s mansion. He was stripped to the buff, but on his feet were stout sandals of horsehide in triple thickness, so that he could run well and give them a good hunt. On the crest they untied him, and he stood naked in a ring of the horsed gentry, rubbing his wrists and glaring at them. Beside him were Jerran and the mutilated Dawvys, who both wore their customary shirts and trousers.

Running his eyes over the squirachy, Revel saw with a strange thrill of horror the Lady Nirea, on a deep-chested roan stallion, as cool and distant as the moon ... and as beautiful, he thought bitterly. Well, but hadn’t he had her? He, a rucker born had loved this woman of the gentry! Let her watch him die—small compensation that would be!

He bowed to her. “May you be in at the death,” he said clearly, and had the satisfaction of seeing her face go white.

“Give the Mink his fangs,” said Ewyo. The burly squire was all in scarlet silk and purple velvet, with white calfskin boots on his thick legs. At his command, Rosk threw the tall rebel a belt with two holsters, in which were thrust two short iron daggers. “By rights you should go without, Mink,” said Ewyo, “but it’s more sport to chivvy a fox with a bite in him. Now, you have till the count of three hundred.”

“Five hundred is customary,” interrupted Nirea.

“Three is plenty for the savior of the ruck. Hold your tongue, Lady.” He leaned over his steed’s head. “Three hundred, Mink, and then we come after you. Your course is down this hill and straight away toward the sea. Don’t try to escape the straight, either, because the hills are rimmed with guards who’ll blow your guts out if you cross the line; and some thousands of your slimy kin are clustered on those hills to watch their hero die.” He nodded to the woman beside him, a blonde wench with vicious amber eyes. “Begin the count, Jann.”

The blonde said loudly, “One, two, three—” and at the third word Revel was off, running like a slim brown stag down the slope of the hill. Behind him came Dawvys and Jerran. The little man cried, “Don’t wait, Revel lad. Save yourself if you can. Remember you’re the Mink!”

“I wish to Orbs I wasn’t,” he growled, and hit the bottom, skimmed over a patch of raw rocks and struck the green beyond. As he ran he buckled the belt around his waist, with a knife hanging on each hip. He had not expected these, and though Ewyo thought he’d lose only a hound or two, Revel intended to take at least a pair of squires with him into the unknown.

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