Renegades of Gor Read Free

trampled by tharlarion,” sad a fellow.
    “No, let them be torn apart by them,” said another. In this fashion ropes are
    tied separately to the victim’s wrists and ankles, these ropes then attached to
    the harnesses of two different tharlarion, which are, of course, then driven in
    opposite directions.
    “Yes, that is better,” agreed the first.
    If one shares a Home Stone with the victim, of course, the punishment is often
    more humane. A common punishment where this mitigating feature obtains is to
    strip the victim, tie him to a post, beat him with rods and then behead him.
    This, (pg. 15) like the hanging in chains, the exposure on boards, and such, is
    a very ancient modality of execution.
    I saw a knife leave a sheath in the driving rain. “There is no time,” said a
    man. “I will cut their throats now.”
    There were murmurs of assent.
    The brigands looked up, bound, from their knees.
    “There is no time to waste,” said a man. “If the storm ceases, and the cloud
    cover scatters, the tarnsmen of Artemidorus may strike at the columns.”
    Artemidorus was a Cosian, the captain of a band of flighted mercenaries.
    “In a few Ahn it will be morning,” said a man.
    The fellow with the knife stepped forward, but I blocked his path.
    “These prisoners are mine,” I said.
    “They are known in this area,” said the man with the knife.
    “Step aside,” said another. “Let justice be done.”
    “Move the wagons!” called a fellow in the back.
    “There are many of us here,” said the fellow with the knife, not unpleasantly.
    “The wagon is still off the road,” I said, indication the left wheels. “Let us
    move the column forward.”
    “To cut three throats will take but three Ihn,” said the fellow.
    “Help me return the wagon to the road,” I said.
    “You are clever,” said the fellow in the rain. “You would enlist our support,
    and thus have us be your fellows, and thus deny us our will.”
    “You will not help?” I said.
    “Get ten men to help!” said he. “I will not be deterred.”
    “Move the wagons!” called a man from behind him. I heard tharlarion snorting and
    bellowing, even in the rain. There were some five lanterns where we were. I
    could see others lit, farther back in the arrested line.
    “I myself am prepared to cut throats if we do not move in two Ehn,” said a
    fellow. “I have a companion in my wagon, and two children. I would get them to
    safety.”
    “You will not help?” I asked the fellow with the knife.
    “No,” said he.
    “Stand back,” I said. I then bent over, and backed under the rear of the wagon.
    (pg.16)”Do not,” said the fellow of the driver, who held one of the lanterns.
    “He is mad,” said another.
    “Look!” cried another.
    I straightened up slowly, lifting the laden wagon. I looked at the man with the
    knife. The wheel of the wagon, that to my right, spun slowly, free, the rain
    glistening in the lantern light on its iron rim. The men were quiet in the rain.
    I moved to my left, inch by inch. I then slowly, observing the man with the
    knife, lowered the wagon to the road. It settled on the blocks of fitted stone.
    I emerged from beneath the end of the wagon. Painfully I straightened up. I
    looked down at the fellow with the knife.
    He stepped back. He resheathed his knife. “They are your prisoners,” he said.
    “Get to the wagon box,” I said to the fellow of the driver. “Lose no time. Get
    out of here. When you can I would hood the prisoners, coarse sacking, cloth,
    anything, and tie it down securely about their necks. Do not let them be
    recognized for a hundred pasangs. If they are slain on you they will fetch
    little from the master of a work gang.”
    “Our wagon was that of Septimus Entrates,” he said.
    “Very well,” I said. That meant nothing to me.
    “I wish you well!” he said, hurrying around the wagon.
    “I wish you well,” I said after him, and drew my pack from the back of the
    wagon. In a moment I