Page 199 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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O-KEE-PA

The Sacred Lodge seemed to be filled with a film of smoke from the pipes of
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the older men who sat in huddled clutches near the triangular, gallows-like
structure erected from thick weathered trees.

First, Bond was stripped and a soft loincloth placed around his waist and
between his legs. His feet were left bare, then he was led by two of the
Medicine Man’s assistants to his place below one of the crossbeams, and
turned to face Brokenclaw. He gazed fixedly at his opponent’s left ear. It was

an old trick which could sometimes give the impression that he was staring out
an enemy.
The drumming began, deep thuds, almost in waltz time, but slow and
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hypnotic. The chanting followed, eerie and as though from throats that had little

to do with mankind. Bond fixed his mind on the rhythm, taking deep breaths,
ready for the first shock of pain.
One of the assistants gathered a handful of flesh from directly under his right
shoulder blade, and the agony leaped through him as the first sharp peg pierced

his skin and slammed through the flesh, searing his whole back. He could feel
the blood wet below the wound and struggled to force mind away from body.
Then the next peg went in on the left side and the hurt doubled – huge sharp
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needles seemed to have blasted through his back, and he began to feel dizzy at
the effect. He took in deep breaths, concentrating more and more on the
throbbing of the drums and the guttural wail of the chant.
He was hardly aware of the men making ready his right calf until the sharp
peg slashed into his leg, sending pain drenching through him. At the insertion of

the final peg, Bond thought he was going to lose consciousness there and then,

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