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"Don't leave us, Chimquar." Maruic's words stumbled haltingly from his lips,
strained by the severe blow it was to his pride to apologize and make an
admission of wrong. "I
was wrong to force myself upon you ... wrong to try to make an Euzadi woman of
you ... I was wrong."
Surprised, Chimquar came closer, her eyes searching his face in the bright
moonlight. "Maruic, it has never been easy for me, either, to be what I am and
be satisfied with that."
"I broke faith with you. That will never happen again."
Maruic vowed, adding. "Perhaps you can go home someday, Chimquar. I could
speak to your Queen."
Chimquar shook her head sadly. "There are more than the
Saer'ajan Zaren Asharen to be persuaded. They would never all listen."
"Will you stay with us?"
Chimquar grasped his arms. "I've nowhere else to go."
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CONCERNING "LAST NIGHT OF THE TROLL"
This one was written between The Hawk that Hunted Lions and Wolves of Nakesht.
It was published in Pandora #5 in
1980. Hazier is sixteen and they have just ridden up to a farmhouse. He has
discovered girls and that puts both Hazier and Chimquar into an interesting
position.
In the Darkness, Hunting: Tales of Chimquar the Lionhawk by Janrae Frank
135
the last night of the troll
The farmstead spread its small distance of fenced garden and cornfields along
the south edge of the dusty road. Two large dogs rushed out to challenge the
two plainsmen leading their horses past the farm. The nomads ignored the dogs
and their lack of fear daunted the beasts so that they slunk away, no longer
eager to attack. A small well stood in the yard near a pleasant-looking white
house. A dipper and bucket sat upon the edge of the well. The elder nomad
turned aside to the well, disregarding the men watching from the fields.
Chimquar Takara of the Dazalero Euzadi let down the bucket into the water and
brought it up full, setting it on the edge of the well. Her lips were dry and
cracked, her throat full of dust. She raised the dipper to her lips and drank
it all without pausing. She wiped her lips on the back of one scarred hand,
then raked her sleeve across her sweaty grime-
streaked forehead, brushing the edge of a newly healed scar.
She was tall and leanly muscular, her skin was burned to a dark bronze by the
sun and worn to leather by the winds of the Great Plains. She concealed her
womanhood in men's raiment, her breasts bound flat against her lean body. Half
a score of years past she had learned the necessity of concealing her amazon
nature, paying for the lesson in blood while escaping with her life. The Lands
of Men bore her race only hatred and suspicion, unwarranted and unyielding.
The tribes of the Euzadi were gathering for war with a major city-state, which
lay, on the southern seacoast.
In the Darkness, Hunting: Tales of Chimquar the Lionhawk by Janrae Frank
136
Chimquar and Hazier had been pushing their horses hard to rejoin their tribe,
the Dazalero, for the southward march. That day they had pushed the beasts too
hard, now they could not push them further without killing them.
"Chimquar," Hazier her young ward, indicated the stout farmer approaching from
the fields with a hoe in hand. A
woman emerged from the house as her man passed the windows. She dried her
hands upon her apron, regarding the plainsmen silently. A younger face peered
over her shoulder, edging around for a better view.
"Hola, Euzadi!" The farmer greeted them pleasantly. He halted, leaning on his
hoe. "Passing through?"
"Yes," Chimquar said, curt and aloof. The Euzadi generously ignored these
lands and their farmers in exchange for a portion of their crops each fall.
"You're welcome to all the water you need," the farmer said.
Hazier took him at his word and refilled the dipper several times, splashing
some on his face.
Chimquar patted her horse's neck. "They'll not go much farther tonight."
The farmwife smiled at Hazier and then at Chimquar. "We have plenty of room,
Jonathan. And so few travelers pass here anymore." She sighed. "I wonder what
happens in the world."
"That would be a fortnight in the telling," Hazier grinned.
"There'll be no moon tonight, Papa," said a soft, feminine voice. The girl
finally succeeded in edging past her stout mother. Hazier's eyes swept
appreciatively over her. She
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In the Darkness, Hunting: Tales of Chimquar the Lionhawk by Janrae Frank
137
wasn't tall; her breasts were small, yet ample, pushing the front of her
scoop-necked blouse out. Her face was full with a tiny chin, her lips
generous, pouting, and her eyes shone like bright amber beads.
"It's expensive to take in travelers," Jonathan said. "Even for just one
night. And with Damian visiting we might have to put them in the loft in the
barn," he directed his words to his wife, yet spoke to Chimquar.
"There'll be no moon tonight," the girl pleaded, and then winced at her
father's frown.
"We can pay for food and lodging for tonight," Chimquar said, placing her hand
on the bulging pouch at her side.
The farmer's eyes narrowed shrewdly and Chimquar almost laughed at the
unveiled greed, she could almost hear him counting coins. In the same thought,
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