The Sword Lord by Robert Leader

as Kananda chose to call them, were best held in reserve.
    The search quickly located a score of bodies. Twelve of them were from the hunting party, three more scattered and pierced with arrows where they had fallen alone, and the others slain in a group where they had valiantly stood to defend themselves. The rest of the dead were wild men, naked but for a belt of monkey skin supporting the bark-cloth pouch that held their private parts.
    Within ten minutes, all of the missing hunting party had been accounted for except Ramesh. Of the young prince there was no sign.
    â€œThey would know his rank from his apparel,” Kasim offered hopefully. “Perhaps they have taken him alive.”
    â€œPerhaps,” Kananda answered in a hollow voice. There was no real hope in his heart, just the crushing feeling of having lost his brother and of failing terribly in his duty. However, he knew the direction in which his duty lay now. “Bring me our huntsman,” he ordered.
    While he waited, he studied one of the dead savages. The corpse had long, tangled black hair, and its dark face and skin were painted with coloured clays and berry juices to give it a ferocious aspect. The face was coloured chalk white with large red circles drawn around the mouth and eyes. The lips were painted with black triangular teeth to give the impression of a mouth within a mouth.
    â€œThis is a war design,” Kananda told Zela who stood beside him. “The extra teeth are painted on to frighten enemies. So this was not the case of one hunting party falling foul of another.”
    Zela said nothing, but she sensed his suppressed emotion and her hand was a comfort on his shoulder. Then Kasim returned with Hamir. The man expected to be blamed and was trembling as Kananda straightened and turned to face him.
    â€œThe attackers have taken Prince Ramesh,”’ Kananda said calmly. “Alive or dead we do not yet know. Can you tell which way they have taken?”
    â€œThe signs point down this valley, sire, and then into the forest.” Hamir swallowed hard and then added, “But, sire, I think we are being watched.”
    â€œI think so too. But only one pair of eyes, perhaps two. If there had been enough of them to attack, they would have done so.” He paused thoughtfully. “Can you track the main party at night?”
    â€œTonight there will be a moon. If there is not too much cloud, I can follow the sign down the valley. But in the jungle? If there is a path, it may be easy. If not…” He shrugged and spread his hands.
    â€œThen let us hope for a path. We will leave here now and return at nightfall. The watchers will see us go, and they will run back to their village before dark. These wild men are afraid of the darkness. They believe that the night is haunted by the spirits of the forest and of their dead. That will be the best time to move against them.”
    Kasim looked toward the remains of the hunting party. “Have we time to bury our dead?”
    Kananda shook his head. “It galls me to leave them, but if those who watch us have sent a runner after their main party, then those who attacked Ramesh could return and surprise us before we have finished. It is best if we leave now.”
    There was no more argument. The riders swung up on their mounts and the small force began an apparently dejected retreat.
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    Two hours passed before the sun began to set behind the western hills. The sky flamed briefly pink and gold, and such was Kananda’s state of mind that his imagination saw it as a dying funeral pyre for his lost brother. The flames dulled, like a glow from red embers, and then they were gone. The shadows closed in, a few stars pricked through the darkening heavens, and a half moon rose in the north. They rode for another ten minutes until a hundred stars were shining in the night sky. Kananda felt certain then that they were no longer being followed and he called