Rebels of Vulvar (Vulvarian Saga Book 2), стр. 2
Unmoved by ideals like love and fairness that can occasionally sway human actions, the Goddess Queens ignored my wishes and returned me to Earth as they had promised. Their concern is always and only the accomplishment of their mysterious ends. To accomplish those ends, they regard mortals as nothing more than useful subservient instruments, sometimes helpful in achieving their collective wills.
Upon my return to my home planet more than five years ago, I determined to write down the story of the exciting period of my life spent on Vulvar. I wished to set down in the words of an ordinary man a chronicle of the strange events that befell me during the months I spent there. Subsequently, I published the manuscript of the story of my first visit to Vulvar as Females of Vulvar. Anyone unfamiliar with that story, but who find themselves curious to learn the details, can read the entire tale in that book. For that reason, I will not recount further the previous narrative here. Instead, I will chronicle the equally extraordinary events I experienced during my second visit to Vulvar.
2
An Unexpected Visitor
Upon my return to Earth against my will some five years ago, having lost the woman I loved, grief consumed me. The occasion of my abduction had resulted in the loss of an archaeology professorship offered me by a prestigious West Coast university. Without a job, I returned to my boyhood home. I moved into the house where I’d grown up. My deceased adoptive parents had left it to me as part of the inheritance they had bequeathed me.
For over a year, I adopted a hermit-like existence and drank to excess. But in time, I tired of that lifestyle. I tried to put my life back into some semblance of order. After becoming sober, I sought diversions. Distractions that might help me learn not to dwell on the broken heart I felt sure I’d never fully recover from. My adoptive parents, my father’s sister, and her husband had left me a generous endowment. I had a minor fortune in my bank account. I didn’t need to work, nor did I wish to. Archaeology no longer interested me as it once had.
For a time, I traveled abroad a great deal. I read a good many books. And, perhaps because of the pitched battles against the mutant creatures I’d taken part in to a limited extent while on the expedition to Saba, I took a curious interest in learning martial arts.
During a trip to Japan, I visited several samurai museums in the well-preserved historical town of Kakunodate, where the Bushido warrior caste had lived during the Japanese feudal era. I became enamored with the katana, the two-handed sword with a curved blade and single edge that the samurai adopted in the 1400s. I purchased a handsome, authentic katana as a souvenir at one of the museum gift shops. About sixty inches long and forged from special steel known in Japan as tamahagane, the katana is an elegant weapon.
Upon my return home, having decided I wished to learn how to use the katana competently, I located and enrolled at a Kenjutsu dojo. Kenjutsu is the Japanese art of the sword. It entails all Japanese swordsmanship. The history of the martial art extends back to the days of the samurai and feudal Japan.
I attended classes at the dojo thrice-weekly, where I practiced feinting, thrusting, jabbing, cutting, and parrying with the katana. I also mastered the graceful footwork that provides the foundation for all the swordsmanship skills. In time, I became skillful enough that even the sensei had difficulty defeating me when we sparred, despite his more considerable experience and competence.
Besides the sword work, I also joined a local archery club where I learned how to place my feet, how far to pull back the bowstring, and how to aim. The first time you release an arrow and watch it soar through the air is magical. After I’d learned the basics of archery, I spent many hours on the range at the club honing my accuracy with the bow.
Thinking back on it, I suppose I never gave up hope of someday returning to Vulvar, of perhaps being summoned back there to serve the Goddess Queens once more. Perhaps, at least subconsciously, that motivated me to gain martial skills that might prove invaluable should I ever find myself on Vulvar again.
One early autumn evening, a little over five years after the Goddess Queens had returned me to Earth, I was sitting in my chair reading when the doorbell rang. While I no longer lived like a hermit, it was not my habit to socialize with others. I had made the acquaintance of none of my immediate neighbors. For that reason, I knew it unlikely the visitor at my front door was a social acquaintance of which I had few, or a neighbor. The hour was too late for deliveries.
I speculated the person who had rung the doorbell was likely a door-to-door salesperson. I had no interest in speaking with a sales representative. So, inclined to ignore the doorbell, I returned to my book. It seemed a safe assumption the person at my front door would soon depart in the absence of any response.
The doorbell rang a second time, and then a third. By that time, the persistence of the person at my door had annoyed me. Putting down my book with a sigh, I got up and strode to the door. The doorbell chimed a fourth time. I fully intended to give the unwelcome caller a piece of my mind for disturbing me at such a late