Guns of Mars 23
A Martian action-adventure by The Legend Chuck Dixon
CHAPTER 7.2
The thark tightened his legs against the thoat’s ribs. He shifted and leaned forward as far as his bonds would allow, his belly pressed hard against the horn of his saddle. Straining against aching muscles, he fixed his teeth at the base of his mount’s nearest ear stalk and bit downward.
The thoat shrieked and reared, raising its front four hooves from the dust in a violent jerk. Kal fought to stay upright even as he increased the pressure on his jaws. His mouth filled with blood and still his teeth remained clenched tight. The animal lurched forward with a leap, mad with pain. Kal threw himself upright so as not to be pitched from his seat. This gambit would be all for nothing if he were to be dragged to his death beneath the feet of this enraged beast.
The bounty man had only time to turn, eyes widening, a hand dropping too late to one of his guns. He was bowled flat by the thoat’s wild charge. Kal grinned, hot blood running from his mouth, as he felt the mount beneath him ride over his captor, trampling the little man into the dust. The lead line sang behind him as it was drawn taut but Kal’s mount was insane now with fright and pulled the pack animal along behind it to join the stampede.
He was out in the dying sunlight, the thoat carrying him at a frantic pace up the slope of the great sluice. The pack thoat bounded behind with both animals trumpeting their panic to the stars. Kal rested back against his saddle’s raised cantle to spread his weight as evenly as he might. There was still danger of being unseated by his mount’s mad dash.
Eventually, his thoat’s frenzy subsided and it slowed to an easy canter and then, panting, to a walk. This allowed Kal to crane about to see that the three thark warriors had turned back from their ascent of the bank. They were now riding down toward the sluice ramp at a gallop. They were soon arrayed about him, lances held upright in their hands but ready to skewer him like game quarry if they did not like what he had to say.
“Is it your custom to ride trussed in this fashion?” the largest of the three said. A mean looking one with the scars of many battles and the bands of many slain visible on his limbs and torso. From their markings and the emblems on their harness he knew them to be of the Samathaan, a tribe that was not currently at war with his own.
“I am Kal Keddaq of the western Warhoon. I am a captive, brother,” Kal said though ‘brother’ was a bit of a reach.
“Captive by who?” The big thark’s eyes narrowed.
Special Note: GUNS OF MARS is now available in a hardcover edition. It is available at Amazon and at NDM Express.
