And there was more than wounded pride behind Omag’s choice, for alone in the jungle without his tribe, death awaited the crippled ape at every turn—he had no choice but to reclaim his crown.
So far, his luck had held, for after following Gazda to Fur-nose’s lair, Omag had found the pale-skinned female that hung in his twisted grasp.
She would make a remarkable consort for a returning king or should the whimsy or fancy strike him a screaming meal to mark his victory.
For now, all the crippled ape need do was find a defensible place to make his challenge, and to do so when the sun was in the sky. There was no need to have the tribe as witness for this way could he bring results without mention of his weapon.
Instead, a finer tale of tooth and claw could be told to restart his interrupted reign...and after that could he save his axe for doubters and dissent.
A clearing in the jungle would be best, where the light could fall upon his opponent undiffused to draw out his strength as blood poured from an open wound.
And if Omag escaped pursuit? Then he could claim the kingship later, when the soft white flesh of his captive had satisfied his two unwholesome cravings.
He clung to the female’s wrist with the long toes of his left foot, while clutching the axe in the other to free his hands for traveling branch to branch and vine to tree.
The crippled ape shook the female when she started screaming, and pondered whether it best to dash her brains out to travel unnoticed, and in peace; but he hesitated again, for the female alive might be held to weaken Gazda’s spirit.
And there was no time for when the crippled ape stopped to catch his breath high in the branches of an iroko tree he saw behind him shaking treetops, dark green in the growing light—and from glance to glance a pair of burning red eyes glared back, throwing crimson anger from the jungle shadows like bursts fire.
Gazda was coming.
Omag began again his breakneck charge, now leaping, then flinging himself recklessly, until the space grew greater between the forest giants through which he raced, and a broad expanse opened before him that would require he leap much farther, so picking up speed he swung past the springing young branches with the screaming female in tow.
While under him the jungle floor disappeared behind a carpet of leaves 200 feet below.
Omag sprang to catch a vine and swing long and fast on a steep pitch—to cross this broad clearing; his captive screaming as they picked up speed. They fell until the vine snapped taut, and a terrified haze came upon the female’s mind.
Omag looked back as the jungle night kept lifting but saw nothing now in the shadowy green. Had Gazda in his haste sped past? Had Goro’s great hunter lost the crippled Omag’s trail?
He panted gleefully as he swung on the creaking vine, the teeth on the left side of his face exposed now by disease and by the tearing wind as he hurtled arcing upward.
But a great concussion came as something rammed into the crippled ape at speed to send shards of flickering light before his eye—impacting and almost causing him to lose his grip upon the vine.
Cursed Gazda!
The night ape had circled swiftly ahead and in this fashion came upon his quarry from the east, where on another vine he had rammed into Omag with great force.
Gazda’s body shuddered as they hit, and his weakening fingers lost their grip upon his vine for his strength was departing as swiftly as the night. He lashed out and caught a hold upon the female’s leg, before lunging from there to Omag’s vine that spun and twirled through the open space. The impact as they collided had forced their disparate momentums into chaotic turning and twisting.
Gazda slid some 40 feet down the vine before catching hold, but quickly scrambled up to where Omag juggled his burdens, aware that the hurtling course they followed would take them spinning through the open space far from any other vines or trees.
They swept along a revolving course upon the vine that careening wildly, pulled the riders on a speedy arc, and it was then that more evil hatched in Omag’s mind, for glaring down the vine to where his enemy climbed; the crippled ape bared his dripping fangs in a hideous snarl of triumph. Eye gleaming with malice, he lifted the axe-head cane in his powerful right foot gauging the distance to Gazda’s skull as the night ape climbed closer.
Seeing this, Gazda drew his long knife to block the blow, misreading his foe’s desire as Omag had intended. And taking advantage of this opportunity, Omag swung the axe with all his strength at the vine to which the night ape clung below him.
Omag smirked with his ragged, red maw, pleased with the startled look on Gazda’s white face as he realized too late the crippled ape’s intent.
As the night ape dropped toward the jungle floor, Omag panted with pleasure. The force from the heavy, whipping vine flung Gazda end over end, before a hundred feet down he struck the tops of several young trees, shearing them off in his descent.
Omag wasted no time climbing hand over hand with his burdens gripped tight in his powerful feet, and waiting there, rode the uppermost stretch of the severed strand until it circled close to the leafy branches of a kapok tree. He slung the female over his shoulder and scrambled along the limb toward the thorny trunk.
The crippled ape climbed down, dropping branch to branch until he slid and jumped; his claws raking great sheets of bark free from the buttressed roots that twisted in the black earth on the jungle
