“Three days to the full moon. The god erect at full fury. THEN .. then he demands this pig as sacrificed.”
The witch-doctor had heard their god’s demands. Now fatefully imparting Tarzan’s doom.
“Three days .. pitiless labour .. expressing remorse. Three days .. to howl his songs of regret. Three days .. to breed slaves to serve a god.”
Conditions demanded by a god. Like those fateful words of the chief .. No one left this valley alive. Three days’ grace. Three days for Tarzan to escape.
He lay stretched-out. A vengeful witch-doctor ranting .. out of his head. Communicating the rage of a god. Tarzan awaiting more agonising strikes across his back. Three days before the sacrifice.
“His entrails fed to the pigs,” the witch-doctor hissed. “His heart burned in the fires. The people will hack this foul body to pieces. Parts scattered .. thrown to the beasts of the forests.” The witch-doctor hissed out Tarzan’s doom.
Three days. Tarzan had to break free. For himself. For Korak. But only Carter knew where Korak was. Slim chance he was still alive. Even if yes .. when Tarzan broke free .. Carter would be a burden. Tarzan couldn’t bother about him. He’d earned this. Tarzan would leave him to his fate. He didn’t even know the way out, blind-folded on the way in. Carter was getting his deserts. But then .. without Carter how could Tarzan free his son?
Warily Tarzan eyed the chief approach, cane in hand. His gaze lit angry at Tarzan returning his look. Glowering he disappeared behind. A hand ripped Tarzan’s loincloth free. Pain-greedy eyes over his bare arse. Bruised and battered. The chief’s cane had laid down agony .. with all his muscular effort. Fiery-red .. glistening with nervous sweat .. painted with evil stripes. Black-and-blue. Blotched crimson-red.
Another time, more vengeful hits. To make him scream. Thwacked on damaged muscle, burning flesh. Going to hurt like a living hell. Torture .. thwacked hard on bruised muscle. Tarzan’s every sense was pricked. His ears alert for warning sounds. He heard it .. the grunt of effort .. the swish of evil cutting through the air. Tarzan knew. No holding it in. He’d bawl. He’d yell. Their god would hear Tarzan’s pain.