The Standup Boys' Runaway

There was a dead silence. Vot laughed out loud. Paladins, unlike so many women, would never dare to harm men. Sure enough, a few heartbeats later, the crowd was moving again.

"Did he just..." Kervin shook his head violently. "Did he just tell a paladin to move?"

"You heard it," said Vot, grinning. "And she did. Ha! No one's going to stop us now."

On either side, people gathered to gawp at the otherworldly sight. Men and women woke and leaned out their windows to see what the commotion was for. As he passed them, Vot saw paladins arguing, a few sprinting off to deliver the news to whoever was in charge.

Then the front of crowd reached the city wall.

"What exactly is the plan?" asked Kervin.

"Yeah," said Vot. "Want to know too."

A pair of wooden ladders, lashed together from planks no longer than the height of a man, sprouted up from the crowd. Covers were yanked away, more ladders were assembled, and suddenly five of the great contraptions leaned against the wall of the city.

"Amazing," breathed Kervin.

Men swarmed up. The women watching in the streets grew agitated, and the paladins sprinted left and right, dithering and arguing and shouting into radios.

The traffic slowed, and the ladders bowed in as men with bulging burlap sacks ambled up the rungs. One of the ladders even gave way, a horrid fibrous snap resounding against the sandstone wall as a dozen men fell wailing to the ground.

Kervin gasped. "We have to help them!"

"Good luck getting to them."

Promptly, other men came to the fallen ones' assistance, taking up their dropped loads and helping the ones who could get to their feet. Sack-burdened men continued up the remaining ladders, and Vot could see Kervin cringing at the sight, clearly expecting another fall, but none came.

When at last, it was their turn to climb, Vot leapt up the rungs with the agility of a professional acrobat. Still, he was quick and light on the rungs, and Kervin, to his relief, was not far behind.

At the top of the wall, they stopped. All the men stopped, at least for a few seconds. Before them, the explosive lushness of the jungle swallowed the ground, fern leaves and canopies and tree-flowers blossoming toward them, inviting them to step in and be consumed by the leafy abundance. Behind was Izaz, with its regimented streets and blocks. Even the telegraph wires, those things that rich old women insisted were ruining the scenery, seemed stately and orderly compared to the wilderness outside.

"Amazing..." Kervin put a hand on Vot's shoulder. "I've never had the whole city one side of me before."

"This wall's so thin," said Vot. "Only about a woman-height across. The city and the outside, they felt like different worlds before. But there's nothing in between but a stupid wall."

"Shall we climb down?"

Indeed, men were climbing down, not by another set of ladders as Vot had assumed, but by ropes that draped from inside the wall over the edge, knotted at intervals to make the going easier. Some older and classier men hesitated, not willing to risk the height, and instantly Vot was determined that Kervin would not be among those cowards. "Race you down!" he blurted out, before mounting a rope and shimmying down as fast as he dared.

Only a few dozen heartbeats after his sandals touched the soil, Kervin touched down after him, daintily smoothing out his kilt and shirt but none the worse for it. Vot looked around.

From beneath, the jungle was an alien world. Vot had assumed it was simply an ocean of leaves that smothered everything, but instead he could see twisted, black-brown trunks rising from the moss- and fern-covered soil. He could see vines creeping across the tree limbs, with monkeys, lizards and buzzing insects flitting between them. He could see a river in the distance, flanked by stunted trees that clenched the ground by their exposed roots, looking perpetually moments from falling in.

"Ah," said Kervin, "thank goodness—guns!"

Sure enough, one of Fingir's lieutenants pulled open the supply sacks, and serious-looking men pulled out flintlock pistols, outdated matchlock rifles, heirloom crossbows and even little girls' slings. Cutting tools were out too, mostly meat cleavers and cooking knives, but a few paladins' machetes were among the mix as well.

"Ha!" spat Vot. "I'd like to see the monster girls try and come after us now."

As he spoke, the last of the men finally descended the ropes, leaving them on the wall. The last man down, Fingir emerged and spread his arms wide. "Brothers!" he boomed, in a voice more powerful than Vot had ever heard him use before. "We stand at the precipice of greatness! Two thousand years ago, the greater ones journeyed into this jungle. There was no city for them to settle in. No laws for them to abide by. No temples in which they could supplicate the powers above. And still they accomplished. They created Izaz!" He paused. "And now we, brothers, are to do the same. Stay together, be vigilant, and follow me!" With a flourish, Fingir took up a machete and began hacking through the greenery, blazing the trail for their success.

Vot and Kervin exchanged a glance, and they were off. "It's a whole new world," said Vot. "Can't wait to get into it."

* * *

The day was growing long. Kervin's legs ached from treading through the soft soil, and the ball of his right foot stung where a vicious thorn had pierced it, and now he took every step with a glint of fear, ready to feel that agonizing puncture again.

His neighbor Nirret fared little better, although he kept his spirits high. Kervin's other friends, neighbors from what already felt like a previous life, had gathered around him, making Vot the odd man out.

Criminal though he was, Vot set a good example. He trooped through the brush, narrow-eyed and determined. He hadn't uttered a word of complaint. Though in truth, none of them had. There was too much elation in the air. These men had cast themselves off a cliff, and it was too early to doubt that they would make it to the other side.

The procession stopped, and men bundled up behind Fingir and his council as they leaned over a map they had been making. It lay unevenly on the stone, lit only by the late-afternoon light that filtered through the sun-greedy canopy. Consternation creased Fingir's grandfatherly visage. "I don't understand," he said. "This is the same river, and it seems we've gone downstream. But our compass clearly shows we've kept to our course!"

Male voices mumbled their concern.

A feminine soprano cut through the air. "You shouldn't trust that compass."

All heads turned to a ragged figure covered in hide and greenery. A woman leaned casually against a bent old tree, armed with knife and pistol, both sheathed and idle at her side.

"I'd heard that the men of Izaz had made a dash for it," she went on, in her out-of-place upper-class accent. "Civilization became too much for you, did it? You're not the first."

A few crossbows aimed at her. Men lit matches, ready to light their matchlock rifles. "Who are you?" demanded one of Fingir's councilors, a big tattooed man.

The woman stood up. "Hashura Tlanna, lady and adventurer. I became apprenticed to huntresses at a young age, and found that this jungle suited me far better than the overdeveloped rot they've made of Izaz. When I was arrested for foraging documents, I was not distraught to be banished." She leaned forward. "Now, you're having trouble navigating? Your compass will lead you wrong." She pointed in a seemingly random direction. "Up there is a rock that attracts compass needles. Anywhere north of Izaz, it's too strong for the compass to be of any help. If you want to keep going north, find the stream and follow it. It won't turn away until the next waterfall."

Finally, the last of the guns were lowered. Fingir stepped forward. "We will consider that. Now, it has been a long day's march, and is there any place you suggest we make camp?"

She pointed the same way. "Along the stream, there's a stretch where it cuts deep into a canyon. Sleep on the edge and you'll have good visibility. Post night guards, obviously."

"Obviously." Fingir rolled the map back up. "Thank you, ma'am. We will be going."

"You don't want some protection?" She patted her holster. "In exchange for a handful of powder cartridges? What do you think?"

Instantly, the crowd roared and hissed at her. With a hand held aloft, Fingir silenced them and said, "We will make our own way."

The woman smirked. As she melted back into the forest, she said over her shoulder, "Be careful, boys. I'm not the only woman out here. And never forget the monster girls. They don't fear anything."

"I don't trust her," mumbled Vot.

Kervin shrugged. "What she said made sense. Besides, why would she lie to us?"

"Brothers!" Fingir raised his arms, addressing the whole crowd. "We will search for the river, and we will follow it north, until we have gained enough distance from Izaz." Someone whispered in his ear, and he added, "And we will sleep soon."

With that, the procession kept going, rifle-men spreading out to surround the group as they made for the river.

The trees, Kervin noticed, grew thin, and to his relief, the ground hardened. Now he would not have to worry about wet mud pulling the shoes off his feet.

Finally, the mossy grass beneath gave way to rock, and the welcome sound of a rushing river filled his ears. Soon, they emerged into a rocky crag, sliced in two by a thin river canyon. This high point, with its silver-black stone, seemed like a barren island in an ocean of leaves.

"We're camping on hard stone?" said Kervin.

"Don't like it either, but it's too easy for them to jump us in the jungle," said Vot. "Out here, our guns will give us an advantage." He chuckled. "Amazing. Back in the city, there was hardly anywhere to hide. Here in jungle, it's so dense you can barely see."

"To be asleep in that kind of darkness, with monster girls all around..." he shook his head. "You're right. For safety's sake, I'll gladly sleep on rock."

A few enterprising men carried soil and brush from the jungle to create shabby beds, and Vot gratefully lay down in his, Kervin at his side. Together, they gazed up at the stars, which seemed so much closer now than they ever had in Izaz.

"Vot?" said Kervin. "I owe you thanks. You went to considerable risk, coming to my wife's house to recruit me into this. I reacted as though you were an intruder."

Vot gave a harsh laugh. "I was."

"Yes, but you never had to do that for me. And because you did, I'm out here now. I'll never be a prisoner again." He sighed happily. "You're a good man, Vot. I'm glad you're with me."

"First time anyone's said that to me."

"Then it's long overdue."

There was a long pause. Then Kervin was delighted to feel Vot take his hand. "Thanks," said the younger man. "Let's stick together, yeah?"

"Yes."

* * *

Vot awoke first. A few other men were out and about, making subdued conversation with the sentries.

Fishing in his pockets, Vot drew out a fistful of nuts and poured them inelegantly into his mouth. As he chewed on them, he drew a hide bag from another pocket and poured a palmful of gel onto his open hand. He rubbed it over his arms, his neck and his thighs.

"What are you doing?"

Vot looked down. Kervin's pretty eyes had just fluttered open, and they watched him run his hands over his oil-glistening skin.

"This?" said Vot. "Scent gel. I do this every morning. Monster girls can smell us, you know. Back in Izaz for a few months, there was one monster girl, always used to pin me down and ride me every night, and no matter where in the city I went, she'd always find me. Couldn't pull in any extra money as a whore, with her draining me dry. Finally learned to disguise my scent, and she hasn't had me since."

"You used to be a whore?"

Vot looked down, flushing with shame. "On the side. When I needed the money. There's a kind of cream you can use, keeps you clean. No rashes for me, no rashes for the women. Still, glad to be away from there. Rash or no rash, never liked women very much."

Kervin looked around. "Could you spare some of that cream for me?"

Vot grinned. "Take off your shirt."

With only a moment's hesitation, Kervin grabbed the hem of his shirt and began to roll it up, showing first his smooth stomach, then his full, healthy muscles. As it came over his head, it ruffled his chocolate-brown hair a little, and he made an amusing attempt to straighten it out again.

Vot started slowly. His fingers coated in the cool liquid, he passed them along Kervin's shoulder, massaging it in with easy circular motions. As he felt Kervin's muscles relax beneath him, he took another handful and began with the other shoulder, transitioning down Kervin's chest.

Vot could feel Kervin tighten, but he kept going, running his hands across Kervin's chest, then down his tea-tan skin, feeling warm flesh rise and fall as the taller man breathed.

Finally, Kervin grew comfortable, and Vot moved onto his abdomen, feeling his ribs, then the muscles below them, one firm ridge after another, while his fingers swept more of the gel over Kervin's sides. Eventually, reluctantly, Vot moved from Kervin's chest to his back, which he covered in a thick, even layer.

When Vot finished, Kervin gave him a knowing smile. "The monster girls will never know me. Thank you, Vot."

Vot smirked. "Any time."

Ahead, the sentries gave a call, and a few people moved, though not with the urgency of danger. Armed guards moseyed to the head of the crowd, and Vot decided he was curious. He stood, looking back to make sure Kervin would follow him, and went to investigate.

A woman stood at the head, clad in furs that seemed far too thick for the environment, hardy-looking leather boots and blond hair that was braided into cords, then bunched into a ponytail.

Before long, Fingir and his ever-present retinue buoyed to the front. "What is it?" asked the old man. Even he was starting to sound grouchy.

"You are heading into the place of my tribe," said the woman, in a thick accent that made every word sound like a labor. "They would take you and tie you onto trees. They would pull off your clothes and find your spouts..."

The euphemism brought a snort from Vot.

"...and they would put them in and take your seed. And they would keep you tied, so they could have more of your-"

"Enough!" Fingir's tattooed brute of a lieutenant elbowed to the front and stood before the woman, leaning belligerently over her, emphasizing his masculine height. "Enough of your games, woman! We've just abandoned or homes, our wives and our children so we could be out here. Do you think your fairy-story scares us?"

The woman shook her head innocently. "Not fright. Move." She pointed off to the side. "That way is a cliff. It is cursed, but only for women. You go there, and my tribe cannot reach you. They cannot tie you down."

The tattooed man stood rock-still, glowering down at the woman while men mumbled to each other behind him.

"We'll do it," came Fingir's voice, quieter than he was wont to. Then again, louder, "We will do it! We will allow this woman to guide us!" He paused. "Provided she goes first."

She grinned at her feet. "It will be my pleasure." She lurched around. "This way."

The crowd shifted, and like a great wagon train, they groaned and jostled until they fell into a long, disorderly line, snaking away from the river and into thick jungle. Once again, the open space gave way to bowed trees, sagging vines and ferns that reached out and fondled Vot's exposed skin like prying, greedy fingers. He wanted to spit at them, then run and hide, but there was nowhere to hide from them. And nothing to spit at, for that matter.

"Why are we doing this?" grumbled Vot. "We had a plan. Now Fingir's letting us get sidetracked? By a woman?"

"Fingir has done well enough so far," said Kervin. "Though I admit I'm suspicious."

"You should be," said another man, skipping up beside them. "My wife was a ranger—er, she is a ranger. I've met captive jungle-women. They don't dress like that. They don't talk that way either."

"What?" blathered Kervin. "And you didn't mention this?"

"Last time I did, that big tattooed lummox smacked me upside the ear. I keep my opinions to myself now."

Kervin swallowed. "Vot? I'm starting to think there really are women lying in ambush. And we've stepped right into their clutches."

"Got a knife?" said Vot.

"No, of course not. Yours will have to do."

"It would, if I had one."

"Oh, no..."

A cry came from deep in the jungle. It could have been any kind of cry, one of fear, anger or anything in between. All Vot knew was that it was female, so it meant trouble.

Women leaped from the brush, faster than should have been possible, and dozens of men were knocked onto their backs. A few twitchy guards fired their guns, raising gritty puffs of white gun smoke, and unarmed men gathered behind whoever they thought could protect them.

For a few heartbeats, Vot was dumbstruck at the sight, then his mind began to work again. These women were indeed faster than any human could move. He saw one woman unfurl a long, snake-like tail and whip a crossbow out of a man's hand, while a twisted tree grabbed another man, proving to be a woman with bark and leaves in place of skin. Female arms hoisted men off their feet or threw them tumbling into each other.

Back in Izaz, it had felt like the technological marvel of ranged weapons could make them invincible. Now Vot saw how wrong he had been. The monster girls were being most cautious around the machete-men, but even those men were falling, snatched away from all angles. A group of them formed a circle, their backs to each other and their blades bared like porcupine quills.

"That way," said Vot, pointing at the circle. "We need-" That was as far as he got before a horribly strong grip fastened around the back of his vest and yanked him off his feet into the obscure green depths.

The speed blinded him. Fern leaves, those prying fingers from earlier, now whipped cuts into his skin. Then he crashed to a halt with his back to a tree trunk.

Finally, he saw a face. It looked like a regular woman, although Vot wasn't fooled. Her arms pinned him to a tree, hideously strong palms pressing against his bare stomach. Vot aimed a punch at her, hoping that for once he could get in a fight and come out on top, but her hands stopped him. He thrashed his legs at her, but her hands stopped him, all without letting up on his stomach.

Baffled, Vot looked at the woman, then realized what a fix he was in. Underneath her shoulders, four other arms jutted out from her sides, each one stronger than Vot's. When the two hands on his chest lifted off, Vot was no closer to being free. Fingers peeled away his vest, and he could see his own chest rising and falling with quick, panicked breaths.

"Such little prey," said the monster girl, in an airy voice so badly at odds with her full figure. "After I've gotten it from you, I'm going back to find another, stronger boy. Don't you know strong boys give better daughters?"

"Yeah, I'm heartbroken!"

The monster girl laughed. "You know, I could break your heart if I wanted to." She leaned into him, a hand grabbing his chin while another pressed his bare chest against the tree and two more tugged at his kilt, his hands still held at the wrists by an iron grip. He tried to work up the saliva to spit at her, but first she was on him. Her lips smashed his head into the tree, and an irresistible force sucked on his mouth. Just when Vot was about to stop squirming, his kilt came away, and another hand cradled his cock. The mere touch sent a spasm through him, and he kept fighting, even though there was nothing to do.