LARL
The larl is a
predator, clawed and fanged, quite large, often standing seven feet at the
shoulder. I think it would be fair to say that it is substantially feline; at
any rate its grace and sinuous power remind me of the smaller but similarly
fearsome jungle cats of my old world.
The resemblance is, I
suppose, due to the mechanics of convergent evolution, both animals having been
shaped by the exigencies of the chase, the stealth of the approach and the
sudden charge, and by the requirement of the swift and devastating kill. If
there is an optimum configuration for a land predator, I suppose on my old
world the palm must go to the Bengal tiger; but on Gor the prize belongs
indisputably to the mountain larl; and I cannot but believe that the structural
similarities between the two animals, though of different worlds, are more than
a matter of accident.
The larl's head is
broad, sometimes more than two feet across, and shaped roughly like a triangle,
giving its skull something of the cast of a viper's save that of course it is
furred and the pupils of the eyes like the cat's and unlike the viper's, can
range from knifelike slits in the broad daylight to dark, inquisitive moons in
the night.
The pelt of the larl
is normally a tawny red or a sable black. The black larl, which is
predominantly nocturnal, is maned, both male and female. The red larl, which
hunts whenever hungry, regardless of the hour, and is the more common variety,
possesses no mane. Females of both varieties tend generally to be slightly smaller
than the males, but are quite as aggressive and sometimes even more dangerous, particularly in the
late fall and winter of the year when they are likely to be hunting for their
cubs. I had once killed a male red larl in the
In spite of my hatred
of Priest-Kings I could not help but admire them. None of the men below the
mountains, the mortals, had ever succeeded in taming a larl. Even larl cubs
when found and raised by men would, on reaching their majority, on some night,
in a sudden burst of atavistic fury slay their masters and under the three
hurtling moons of Gor lope from the dwellings of men, driven by what instincts
I know not, to seek the mountains where they were born. A case is known of a
larl who traveled more then twenty-five hundred pasangs to seek a certain
shallow crevice in the Voltai in which he had been whelped. He was slain at its
mouth. Hunters had followed him. One among them, an old man who had originally been
one of the party that had captured the animal,
identified the place. Priest-Kings of Gor page 19
advanced, my spear
ready for its cast, my shield ready to be thrown over my body to protect it
from the death throes of the thrashing beast should the cast be successful. My
life was in my own hands and I was content that this should be so. I would have
it no other way.
I smiled to myself. I
was First Spear, for there were no others.
In the
The most significant
reason, however, becomes clear when the role of the last man on the file, who
is spoken of as Last Spear, is understood. Once Last Spear casts his weapon he
may not throw himself to the ground. If he should, and any of his comrades
survive, they will slay him. But this seldom occurs for the Gorean hunters fear
cowardice more than the claws and fangs of larls. Last Spear must remain
standing, and if the beast still lives, receive its charge with only his drawn
sword. He does not hurl himself to the ground in order that he will remain
conspicuously in the larl's field of vision and thus be the object of its
wounded, maddened onslaught. It is thus that, should the spears miss their
mark, he sacrifices his life for his companions who will, while the larl
attacks him, make good their escape. This may seem cruel but in the long run it
tends to be conservative of human life; it is better, as the Goreans say, fro
one man to die than many.
First Spear is
normally the best of the spearmen because if the larl is not slain or seriously
wounded with the first strike, the lives of all, and not simply that of Last
Spear, stand in considerable jeopardy. Paradoxically, perhaps, Last Spear is
normally the weakest of the spearmen, the least skilled. Whether this is
because Gorean hunting tradition favours the weak, protecting him with the
stronger spears, or tradition scorns the weak, regarding him as the most
expendable member of the party, I do not know. The origin of this hunting
practice is lost in antiquity, being as old perhaps as men and weapons and
larls.
I once asked a Gorean
hunter whom I met in Ar why the larl was hunted at all. I have never forgotten
his reply. 'Because it is beautiful,' he said, 'and dangerous, and because we
are Goreans.' Priest-Kings of Gor page 19-20
The path was steep but
its ascent, here and there, was lightened by high steps. I have never cared to
have an enemy above me, nor did I now, but I told myself that my spear might
more easily find a vulnerable spot if the larl leapt downwards toward me than
if I were above and had only the base of its neck as my best target. From above
I would try to sever the vertebrae. The larl's skull is an even more difficult
cast, for its head is almost continually in motion. Moreover, it possesses an
unobtrusive bony ridge which runs from its four nasal slits to the beginnings
of the backbone. This ridge can be penetrated by the spear but anything less
than a perfect cast will result in the weapon's being deflected through the
cheek of the animal, inflicting a cruel but unimportant wound. On the other
hand if I were under the larl I would have a brief but clean strike at the
great, pounding, eight-valved heart that lies in the centre of its breast.
My heart sank for I
heard another growl, that of a second beast.
I had but one spear.
I might kill one larl,
but then I should almost certainly die under the jaws of its mate.
For some reason I did
not fear death but felt only anger that these beasts might prevent me from
keeping my rendezvous with the Priest-Kings of Gor.
I wondered how many
men might have turned back at this point, and I remembered the innumerable
white, frozen bones on the cliff below. It occurred to me that I might retreat,
and return when the beasts had gone. It seemed possible that they might not yet
have discovered me. I smiled as I thought of the foolishness of this, for these
beasts before me must be the larls of Priest-Kings, guardians of the stronghold
of Gor's gods.
I loosened my sword in
its sheath and continued upwards.
At last I came to the
bend in the path and braced myself for the sudden bolt about that corner in
which I must cry aloud to startle them and in the same instant cast my spear at
the nearest larl and set upon the other with my drawn sword.
I hesitated for a
moment and then the fierce war cry of Ko-ro-ba burst from my lips in the clear,
chill air of the Sardar and I threw myself into the open, my spear arm back, my shield high. Priest-Kings of Gor page 21-22
Even past me there
thundered a lumbering herd of startled, short-bunked kailiauk, a stocky,
awkward ruminant of the plains, tawny, wild, heavy, their haunches marked in
red and brown bars, their wide heads bristling with a trident of horns; they
had not stood and formed their circle, she's and young within the circle of
tridents; they, too, had fled; farther to one side I saw a pair of prairie
sleen, smaller than the forest sleen but quite as unpredictable and vicious,
each about seven feet in length, furred, six-legged, mammalian, moving in their
undulating gait with their viper's heads moving from side to side, continually
testing the wind; beyond them I saw one of the tumits, a large, flightless bird
whose hooked beak, as long as my forearm, attested only too clearly to its
gustatory habits; I lifted my shield and grasped the long spear, but it did not
turn in my direction; it passed, unaware; beyond the bird, to my surprise, I
saw even a black larl, a huge catlike predator more commonly found in
mountainous regions; it was stalking away, retreating unhurried like a king;
before what, I asked myself, would even the black larl flee; and I asked myself
how far it had been driven; perhaps even from the mountains of Ta-Thassa, that
loomed in this hemisphere, Gor's southern, at the shore of Thassa, the sea,
said to be in the myths without a farther shore. Nomads of Gor, page 2