Free Savage Lands by Andy Briggs Page A

what?”
    â€œWe wait,” said Greystoke. “Shouldn’t be too long.”
    A crack in the grass got everybody’s attention. Greystoke waved his hand dismissively.
    â€œThe pygmies. No doubt ensuring we leave their land.”
    Everybody visibly relaxed, except Jane who kept looking around. Her skittishness was unnerving to Robbie, who had grown to trust her instincts in the wild. He tried to ignore her, but she was too distracting. Luckily, Archie broke the atmosphere as he skipped stones across the river.
    â€œSo why did you move the pygmies off their land?” he asked as casually as he could.
    â€œThey were in the way,” said Greystoke simply. “No offense to them. In fact, we employ any who wish to work for us.”
    Archie threw another stone, sending ripples across the brown surface. He fished one more stone from the muddy bank, inching closer to the water.
    â€œDad, careful …” said Jane as his next stone bounced three times across the still surface.
    Greystoke continued, oblivious to how close Archie had moved toward the river. “Lets them afford a better standard of life than our primitive jungle friends enjoy.”
    Archie turned around, his eyes searching Greystoke for answers. “But it’s their land, isn’t it?” Clark nudged his friend. The meaning was clear: Don’t argue until Greystoke pays up.
    â€œDad …” Jane’s warning went unheeded.
    Greystoke sniggered. “Who owns anything out here? They have no idea what this land is really worth.”
    A deep roar and sudden flurry of movement—not from the water, but from the grass—as a flash of tawny fur landed on Greystoke, pitching him off the rock and rolling through the red dirt. It was a huge maned lion. His claws dug into Greystoke’s back, drawing blood as it pinned him down. The lion roared, so loud and sonorous that Robbie felt his ribcage shake.
    Clark fumbled for his sidearm. Staggering backward, he lost his balance, and dropped to his backside. His gun skittered away. He groped for it, but Jane darted forward and kicked it farther out of reach.
    â€œNO!” she screamed. “You’ll just annoy him!”
    The lion turned toward her and snarled, his mouth extending wide enough to encompass Greystoke’s head and shoulders. He was a massive specimen. Greystoke gibbered, tears rolling down his cheeks. Jane took a step forward, her hands raised out in front of her.
    â€œEasy! It’s me. Remember Tarzan?”
    Now Robbie understood. The last time they had seen lions was when Tarzan had rescued them from Tafari’s camp. Then he had been riding a lion as if it were a domesticated steed. Was this Numa? Tarzan’s friend? It was certainly a Numa — Robbie was still uncertain how Tarzan named the creatures around him.
    Jane bravely stepped closer and the lion roared again. Even several yards away, Robbie could smell his meaty breath.
    â€œNuma. I’m a friend. Friend,” said Jane as she approached, then did something contrary to all common sense. She knelt down so that Numa towered over her.
    â€œJane!” hissed Robbie. “Don’t.”
    Numa pressed a paw harder against Greystoke’s back, as if kneading him. The Englishman whimpered in pain. Then Numa removed his paw and took a step toward Jane. She didn’t flinch, and maintained eye contact as the beast pressed close, sniffing her.
    Robbie held his breath. He saw Archie and Clark were rigid with fear, hoping Jane knew what she was doing. Robbie guessed she was just as terrified.
    The lion growled. It was as if an engine was idling close to Jane’s head. Numa’s breath blew her hair. Then, the aggressive sounds suddenly turned to a distinctive purr. He rubbed the side of his massive head against Jane, marking his scent.
    Jane giggled with relief, and scratched Numa’s head, her fingers digging deep into the flea-ridden fur, and Numa purred