THE QUEEN OF SWORDS!
A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN
By Jerome B. Bigge
Chapter Twenty Eight

     
"Get axes," Serak ordered. "I want the head," giving the
still form a kick with his foot. The teeth in the jaws like ivo-
ry daggers. I wondered what was the usual prey of this monster?
I pulled my sword from its mouth, the blade fortunately unharmed.
     
"There are legends, those who have claimed to have seen," he
said to me. "But only one was ever brave enough to stand her
ground and kill one." I didn't tell him it was all a matter of
luck and that I had been so scared of it I had nearly wet myself!
     
"Hold me," I breathed, moving into his arms, letting the
"shakes" go over me as the delayed nervous reaction took place.
We had been very "lucky". Far more than he knew, I thought then.
     
"Your bow is `magic'," Serak observed as his men chopped at
the neck, only my arrows having penetrated far enough to be in
any way "effective". "We need weapons like yours," he said to me
then, holding me, stroking me. The "cause" of its death had been
my sword piercing its brain when I had thrust up into its mouth!
I have no doubt that my arrows would have been eventually "fatal"
to it, but such creatures, like the Garth of California, are hard
to kill. I was, I suppose, extremely "lucky" in my use of the
sword. Perhaps, I think too, I was "aided" by one now long dead.
My hand "guided" to drive that keen point to the "kill" spot!!!

     
"Does it bother you," I asked, "That I am the fighting woman
I am?" Serak riding beside me as we led the column of no more
than a dozen fit men, the head of the dinosaur sharing the rear
of the column with the airplane. Both being drawn by spare
mounts. We had left the rest of the great body for the animals.
One of the Nevadas had been trampled by the creature. Crushing
him to death like an insect beneath its great multi-ton weight!
     
"Does it `bother me' that my unicorn is swifter than any
other's?" he smiled back. Obviously he took pride in my skills.
In the fact that I was "good in a fight". That I was beautiful.
     
"There are men who it would `bother'," I smiled back at him.
     
"Such men are not `real men'," Serak smiled back in reply.
"No Nevada warrior feels any shame because his woman can cook or
sew well, anymore than he feels shame because his unicorn can run
faster than he can." I found it an interesting theory to say the
least. One that would have resolved a number of problems back in
Lorraine's time. Of course Serak felt considerable love for me,
as I did for him, which no doubt had something to do with it all.
It may be noted however that all young Nevada girls are trained
in the use of the bow, and are expected to help defend their own
village or encampment against any attackers. It not being un-
known for one group of Nevadas to attack another group of Nevadas
if conflict develops between them, although a more usual response
seems to be the declaration of a "feud" between the two tribes.
These people are extremely "war-like", and often fight duels to
the death among themselves over things no Californian would ever
fight over. The women themselves can also be quite war-like too
and are often quite skilled with the long daggers they carry. To
speak of a "central government" under such conditions is mislead-
ing as the Nevada political organization is more like that of a
number of rather hostile tribes who owe "allegiance" to a King of
the Nevadas living in the ruins of what was once Los Vegas. For
this reason Serak had been visiting various villages and encamp-
ments to reaffirm their allegiance with the central "government"
if that is the proper term to use in this situation. They unite
together only when facing an external enemy such as the Empires
of California or that of Mexico, both of which has fought more
than one war with them. It was after our last war with them that
I first met Prince Serak some three years ago there on the
"truce" grounds that border the lands claimed by both parties.
The Nevadas having for years sought territory in the fertile
lands between the coastal mountains and the Sierras to the east.

     
"Is there anything in the legends to tell of where such
beasts as the one we killed last night come from?" I asked later,
my cape now drawn about myself to keep me protected from the sun.
I wore buckskin chaps to protect my legs and high rawhide gloves.
I am a natural blonde, and I do sunburn rather easily of course.
     
We were riding towards the southeast, back to Vegas, where
he would warn his father the King that the Montanas had come in
numbers from the north into Nevada territory. I had naturally
pointed out to him the advantages of joint military operations
between his people and my own forces. His people are natural
"cavalrymen" and would be a welcome addition to the forces of the
Empire. Supplied with our latest design crossbows and compound
bows, they would be even more "effective" than before, I thought.
     
"There is a legend of a `Forbidden Valley' from which none
have ever returned," the Crown Prince of the Nevadas smiled back.
"It is said to be somewhere in the mountains over there." I won-
dered if the dinosaur had come from there. Was there a valley
with more of the great beasts? If I could get Black Lady proper-
ly repaired I thought I might just investigate such for myself.*

* I did not of course know at this time that this was the actual
location of Leith which lies buried hidden beneath the mountains.
Aurora "mentioned" the city to me, but did not give its location.

     
"If your people can make a propeller I think it might be
worth investigating," I smiled back at him there beside me. I
am, I suppose, not as concerned about my "safety" as I should be.
     
"There are said to be flying reptiles as large as a Tarl,"
Serak warned me. His dark eyes looking into mine as I nodded. I
am a good pilot. As "good" as Lorraine if not as "mechanically
knowledgeable" as she is. We were now allied with Talon. Per-
haps a joint expedition would be best. One armed with light bal-
listae and heavy crossbows. Talon's Tarls for "air cover" if
such was possible. And heavy spears for the dinosaurs we'd meet.
     
"If your people had bows like mine," I smiled back. Serak
had attempted to draw it. Had been amazed that he could not do
so! The "pinch" draw used by Nevadas and Montanas does not per-
mit the use of a heavy bow. On the other hand I have seen them
shoot birds out of the air. Hit running jackrabbits with ease.
     
"You are not the archer I am," he pointed out to me. That
was a fact. I could shoot an arrow further than any warrior of
his people, but my "marksmanship" by his standards left something
to be desired. Nevadas are extremely "good" with their bows.
That has been taught Californian monarchs for several centuries!
     
"But I can shoot an arrow further than your strongest warri-
or," I pointed out with a smile. That was true, and he knew it!
     
"But I can shoot a bolt from a crossbow further than you can
shoot an arrow," Serak pointed out, now getting the last word in.

     
"Ever think of what all this was once like?" I asked Serak.
We were at the moment passing some ruins dating back to before
The War. Such are much more common on this side of the mountains
than on the Californian side. I often enjoy exploring such
ruins, seeing how the people of that time lived. They had "more"
than we do now, but on the other hand they were not as "free" as
we are. Such is perhaps a major "consequence" of overpopulation.
Of the policies of "irresponsible reproduction" of the past eras.
     
"Men were not `men' then, or were women `women' back then,"
he answered with a smile. "There is more to life than just the
simple `accumulation' of things. They did not understand that.
They were a `sex-crazed' people without anything `else' to do,"
he added. "Such" from a man who had enjoyed me only an hour ago!
The World Federation under Janet Rogers may have been "sex-
crazed" by our standards, although how much is "myth" instead of
"reality" is a question for which I don't have any answers. It
may have been a "reaction" to the "sexual oppression" of the
previous century, or just a "policy" to insure social stability.*

* The last is probably "closer" to the "truth" than anything else
here. Janet Rogers was well aware of the "fact" that people who
are thinking about sex aren't likely to be thinking about "poli-
tics". She was a more "intelligent" dictator than any of today.

     
"But they had things we can only dream about," I pointed
out. "Things that now are only just legends and myths," I added.
     
"There is the land, and the sky," Serak noted. "We Nevadas
see little need for more than those." I supposed he was right.
     
"They had airplanes, holovision, things now only stories in
the history books," I went on. Serak smiled to himself, nodding.
     
"Were they any happier than we are?" he challenged me back.
"Did they have our clear air, fresh water, the plains, the moun-
tains? Did they love the land as we do?" I knew the answer to
that. Those of the past had not loved such things, or cared
about them. They came, raped the land, and destroyed its beauty.
They cared only for the accumulation of material goods, little
else. Perhaps it is just as well that they are gone, dust now.

     
"He is getting worse," Serak said to me, examining the man.
He had been struck by a Montana arrow. The head had come off the
shaft and was still deep inside his body. Serak's party had no
member of the Physicians with them. No one to operate, to save
life. "Dragging your airplane slows us down." he added, his eyes
meeting mine. The decision would be mine to make. I understood.
     
"Do you have a map?" I asked. One was produced for me to
look at. With Serak's help I located the nearest Nevada village.
     
"We will go there, get help for the wounded," I suggested.
     
"My father should know of the Montanas," he pointed out.
     
"We will leave the airplane and the dinosaur head at the
village," I suggested. Both would be safe there until we could
come back for them. "Go on to Vegas with the rest of your men."

     
"Golden Woman! Golden Woman!" the children called out as we
rode into the village. I don't think they had ever seen a woman
like me before. The only "white" women they had seen had been
those captured, stripped, and led in on the end of a saddle rope.
     
"Your culture is much like that of the American Indians of
the Nineteenth Century," I observed to Prince Serak of the Neva-
das. That was not completely true, but this village was much
like those that had existed at that time. Life was maintained by
a combination of simple farming and hunting, by the herding of
the wild cattle that now roam the plains of western North Ameri-
ca. There has been considerable intermarriage between the white
race and the native Americans who had also originally lived here.
     
"It is a good way for men to live," Serak smiled back at me.
"Better than the way you of California live in your big cities."
I smiled to myself and wisely kept my mouth shut instead of com-
menting. I wondered if he was right. These people were "poor"
by California standards, but on the other hand they seemed much
happier than those who lived in Sarn or Trella. One wonders....!

     
"An `interesting' culture," I observed as Serak and I walked
together through the village. The half-naked children running
about making us the center of attention. He was their Crown
Prince. I was the Empress of California. The only thing that
drew more attention than us was Black Lady and the head of the
tyrannosaurus. I understood that such creatures were known here.
That they had been seen by others. That they came from somewhere
in the mountains almost directly to the west of us. I had many
questions for those who had "seen". Gotten too few answers back!
     
"We like it," he smiled back at me. A passing woman in
beads and buckskin giving me "the once over" from deep dark eyes.
She was bare breasted, a maiden, not yet married, her buckskin
skirt high on her thighs. The skin teepees much like those once
used by Indians long ago. I saw a child practicing with a bow.
Her marksmanship left little to be desired. Such skills are
deemed "important" by both men and women. The Nevada woman is
able to stand alongside her man, help defend her own encampment.
     
"You do not have `warrioresses' as we do," I pointed out.
     
"I have made the suggestion to my father," Serak answered.
     
"And what was his answer?" I asked, rather curious to know.
     
"Men fight, women raise the children," Serak answered back.
"My father says that one warrior can father many children, but
only a woman can `have' children." The philosophy sounded rather
familiar. There were people in California who felt the same way.
     
"Women are `good for more' than just having children," I
pointed out, so much aware that I could never have any of my own.
     
"If my father had a `Darlanis', perhaps he would think dif-
ferently," Serak smiled, putting his arm around my waist beneath
my cape. The cape was necessary to protect my skin from the sun.
     
"There was a woman with the Montanas," I pointed out to him.
     
"Their Physicians are mostly women," Serak explained to me.
     
"Why didn't you have a physician with you?" I asked him.
     
"We were not expecting trouble," he smiled back at me.

     
"I will miss my land," Serak said to me as we sat and looked
out into the darkness, the stars gleaming bright there above us.
A whiff of wood smoke wafted into my nostrils as I nodded in re-
ply. The mountains behind us a bit "scary" as I thought of what
they contained. Were there dinosaurs living in some hidden val-
ley? More like the monster we had been so lucky to have killed?
     
"You will like Sarn," I smiled back. I wondered how he and
Sharon would get along. He was a "barbarian", she was a product
of the 20th Century. Culturally they were a thousand years or
more apart. Sharon, like Lorraine, is well aware of her superior
scientific knowledge as compared to the people of my own culture.
     
"I would like to meet this `Lorraine Richards' of yours," he
said to me as we sat together. "I have heard many tales about
her." I had told him something about her, about Sa-she-ra, who
had saved Lorraine's life at the price of her own. Of the fact
that Lorraine was now raising Ta-she-ra as her own foster child.
     
"You'll get the chance," I assured him, wondering how they
would get along. Lorraine can be "abrasive" at times without
meaning to be. She is not a person who gets along with everyone.

     
"I'll be back," I assured Serak, creeping from the teepee to
seek the privacy of the nearby woods. The insects chirping away
as I crept into their depths to find relief with my back against
a tree as I squatted. I should have boiled my drinking water, I
suspected now. What the Nevadas could "tolerate", I could not!!!
     
There was a sharp crack of a branch beneath a foot beside
me, the sound making me start as I wiped myself with leaves.
Then suddenly something was beside me! Something big! I felt
hands, warm scaly hands, seize me! My naked body pressed up
against a warm scaly body! My scream muffled by a horny hard
scaly hand over my face as the horrid creature dragged me off
into the darkness, naked and helpless, its squirming captive!!!
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