Riding double, we left the heela-infested forest behind. Darnad informed me that we had been lucky to meet only one of the beasts since there had been others of its pack about. Apparently it was quite common amongst heelas for the leader to attack the victim first and, if successful, lead the rest in for the kill, having tested the victim's strength. If, on the other hand, the heela-leader were killed, then the pack would skulk off, judging the enemy too strong to risk attacking. Besides which they would feed off their dead leader's corpse. In this case, the corpse of the dahara, too.
It seemed that, like hyaena, the heelas were strong but cowardly. I thanked providence for this trait, at any rate!
Now the air grew colder—we had been travelling for well over a month—and the skies darker. We began to cross a vast plain of black mud and obsidian rock, stunted, sinister shrubs and ancient ruins. The feet of our single dahara splashed in deep puddles or waded through oozing mud, slipped on the glassy rock or stumbled over great areas of broken masonry.
I asked Darnad if these were the ruins of the Sheev but he muttered that he did not think so.
"I suspect that these ruins were once inhabited by the Yaksha," he said.
I shivered as cold rain fell on us.
"Who were the Yaksha?"
"It is said they are ancient enemies of the Sheev but originally of the same race."
"That is all you know?"
"Those are the only facts. The rest is superstition and speculation." He seemed to shudder inwardly, not from the cold but from some idea that had occurred to him.
On we went, making slower and slower progress over that dark wasteland, taking shelter at night— scarcely distinguishable though it was from day!—under half-fallen walls or outcrops of rock. Strange, livid beasts prowled that plain; peculiar cries like the voices of lost souls; queer disturbances that we felt rather than heard or saw.
It was like that for another two weeks until the looming crags of Argzoon became visible through the dim, misty light of the Wastes of Doom.
The Mountains of Argzoon were tall and jagged, black and forbidding.
"Seeing their environment," I said to Darnad, "I can understand why the Argzoon are what they are, for such landscapes are not conducive to instilling a sense of sweetness and light into one."
"I agree," he replied. Then a little later: "We should reach the Gates of Gor Delpus before nightfall."
"What are they?"
"The entrance to the Caves of Darkness. They are, I've been told, never guarded, for few have ever dared venture into the Argzoon's own underground land—they let our normal fear of dark, enclosed spaces do their work for them."
"Are the Caves very dangerous?"
"I do not know," he said. "No one has ever returned to tell..."
By nightfall we made out the Gates by means of Deimos's very dim moonlight. They were mainly natural cave-mouths widened and made taller by crude workmanship. They were dark and gloomy and I could understand what Darnad had told me.
Only my mission—to rescue the woman I loved but would never be able to make mine—would induce me to enter.
We left our faithful dahara outside to fend for himself until we returned—if ever we should.
And then we entered the Caves of Darkness.
Chapter Eleven
QUEEN OF THE ARGZOON
THEY were cold, those caves. A chill pervaded them greater than anything we had experienced on the Wastes of Doom.
Down and down we went, along a smooth, broad, winding track that had torches lighting it at wide intervals. We caught glimpses of vast grottos and caverns, as it were within the great caverns; of stalactites and stalagmites; of jumbled, black rock and rivulets of ice-cold water; of a bitter-smelling slime that clung to the rocks; of small, pallid animals that scuttled away at our approach.
And deeper down the sides of the path had been decorated with trophies of war—here a skeleton of an Argzoon in full armor, with sword, shield, spear and axe, grinning down at us from its great height; there several human skulls piled into a rough pyramid. Dark trophies, brought alive sometimes by the flickering torchlight, but fitting decoration for this strange place.
Then at length we felt the path turn sharply to the left. Following it round, we suddenly came upon a monstrous cave, its walls so far away they were invisible. We stood above it, looking down. The path led to it, we could see, twisting down for perhaps two miles. Huge fires flared at intervals on the floor of the cave and there were complete villages dotted across it. Fairly close to our side of the cave there was a stone city—a city that seemed piled on blocks of stone heaped almost haphazardly one upon the other. A heavy city, a cold, strong, bleak city. A city to suit the Argzoon.
Moving about in the city and the surrounding villages, we saw Argzoon men, women and children going about their business. There were also pens of dahara and some sort of small creature that seemed to be a domestic version of the heela.
"How can we get in there?" I whispered to Darnad. "They will realize who we are immediately!"
Just then I heard a noise behind us and pulled him into the shadows of the rock.
A few moments later a group of some thirty Argzoon warriors stumbled past. They looked as if they had been through an ordeal. Many bore untreated wounds, others had had their armor almost completely cut to shreds, and all were weary.
I realized that these were probably survivors of the 'mopping up' operation instituted from Varnal the day we had left.
That was another reason why we should not expose ourselves! The Argzoon would enjoy taking vengeance on members of the race that had defeated them.
But these warriors were too tired even to notice us. They just staggered on down the twisting path towards the cavern world, where the great bonfires crackled and attempted to heat and light the place with little success.
We could not wait for nightfall here, for it was perpetual night! How could we reach the city and discover where Shizala was imprisoned?
There was nothing for it but to begin creeping down the path, keeping to the shadows as best we could, hoping that the Argzoon would be too busy with their own affairs, treating their wounded, assessing their strength and so on, to notice us.
Not once did either of us think of returning to find help. It seemed too late for that. We must rescue Shizala ourselves. But then it occurred to me! Who else knew where Shizala was held? Who else had all the information concerning the Argzoon that we had? The answer was plain—none. When we had gone a little distance I turned to Darnad and said bluntly: "You must go back."
"Go back? Are you mad?"
"No—I'm perfectly sane for once. Don't you realize that if we are both killed in this attempt, then there can be no further attempts to save Shizala— for what we know will die with us!"
"I had not thought of that," he mused. "But why should I go back? You go. I will try to ..."
"No. You know the geography of Vashu better than I. I might easily get lost. Now you have led me to the Mountains of Argzoon you must return to the nearest friendly settlement, send messengers to tell where I am, where Shizala is—get the news out as fast as you can. Then a big force of warriors can come here while the Argzoon are still depleted and recovering and wipe out the threat of the Blue Giants once and for all!"
"But it will take me weeks to get back to civilization of any sort. If you get into trouble here you will be dead long before I can bring help."
"If personal safety were our first consideration," I reminded him, "neither of us would be here now. You must see the logic of what I say. Go!"
He thought deeply for a moment, then clapped me on the shoulder, turned and began to make his way rapidly back in the direction we had come.
Once made up, Darnad's mind made him act swiftly.
Now I crept on, feeling somehow even smaller and weaker in the face of monstrous nature now that Darnad had gone.
Somehow I managed to get to the base of the path without being seen.
Somehow
I managed to dash from cliff-wall to the shadow of the city and hug myself close to the rough-hewn stone.
And then, all of a sudden, it became darker! I could not at first understand the cause of my good luck. Then I saw that they were damping down the big fires! Why?
Then I realized what must be happening. Fuel itself must be scarce so, for a period corresponding to night-time on the surface, the fires were damped while the Argzoon slept. In the almost pitch-black darkness I decided that this was my chance to explore the city and try to find out where Shizala was imprisoned.
Perhaps, if luck continued to stay on my side, I would even have a chance to rescue her, and together we could leave the gloomy cavern-world of the Argzoon and ride back to Varnal.
I hardly dared consider this as I began slowly to climb the rough sides of the city wall.
It was a stiff climb, but not too difficult. Both my hands and my feet had been hardened over the long weeks of our quest and so I found I could grip the rock like a Gibraltar monkey.
The darkness brought its own dangers, of course, and I was forced to climb largely by touch, but soon I was on top of the wall.
Crouching, sword in hand just in case I should be surprised, I sidled along the wall, peering down into the city, trying to make out the likeliest place where Shizala might be held.
Then I saw it!
One building was fairly well illuminated by torches from within and brands on the ramparts. But this is not what I noticed so much as the great, brooding banner that flew from a mast on the central keep of the building.
It was the N'aal Banner that adorned Horguhl's tent oh the battlefield outside—a larger version, but the same design.
It was little to go on—but it was something. I would make for the building with the banner.
I resheathed my sword and clambered over the other side of the wall, beginning to climb slowly down towards the ground.
I was nearly at the bottom with perhaps only a dozen feet to go when a detachment of Argzoon warriors suddenly rounded a building near the wall and marched towards me. I wondered if I had been seen—whether they had been sent to deal with me. But then they began to pass beneath me. I was only a couple of feet above the head of the tallest as he passed. I clung like a fly to the wall, praying that I would not slip and betray myself.
As soon as they were out of sight, I climbed the remaining distance to the ground and dashed across to the cover of a building, fashioned from the same roughly-heaped stone as the wall.
Knowing that the Argzoon warriors had not had many mounts, I guessed that only a few had returned as yet, which explained why the city seemed virtually deserted.
This was another thing that I welcomed and which was to my advantage.
Soon I had reached the building I was headed for.
The sides of this were somewhat smoother, but I thought I could tackle it. The only problem here was that the walls were fairly well illuminated and I might be seen.
There was nothing for it but to risk it, for no other time would be better. I would try to reach a window and swing myself in. Once inside the building I might be able to hide myself better and at least discover something, by watching and listening, of where Shizala was being kept.
I got a hold on a piece of projecting stone and hauled myself up, inch by inch. It was slow going and increasingly difficult. All the windows—little more than holes in the rock—were some distance above the ground, none less than twenty feet, and the one I had decided to try was probably higher. I deduced that fear of attack was the reason why the windows were positioned so high.
But at last I managed to make the window and peered over the sill to see if the room beyond was occupied. It did not appear to be.
I entered quickly.
It appeared that I was in a store-room of some kind, for there were wicker baskets of dried fruit and meat, herbs and vegetables. I decided to make use of some of the food stuff, obviously looted in an earlier raiding expedition. I selected the most palatable items and ate them. I was thirsty, too, but there was no readily available source of water. I would have to wait for a drink.
Feeling refreshed, I explored the room. It was fairly large and very draughty. Perhaps because of the draughts, it had not been used as a living accommodation for a long while—judging by the old and near-rotted pieces of basket that littered the floor.
I found the door and tried it.
To my great disappointment it was locked—barred from the outside, probably as a precaution against thieves!
I was very weary and my eyes kept closing involuntarily as I fought sleep. The pursuit had been long and arduous; we had allowed ourselves little time for rest. I decided that I would be more use to Shizala if I were rested.
I clambered over the baskets and made myself a kind of nest in the centre by removing some baskets and piling them around me. That way I would be warmer, and if anyone entered the room they would not see me. Feeling fairly secure, I lay down to sleep.
An increase in the glow of firelight entering the window told me that it was a new Argzoon 'day'. But, I realized immediately, that was not what had awakened me.
There was someone else in the room.
Very cautiously, I stretched my cramped limbs and began to stand up, peering through a crack in my barricade.
I was astonished.
The man collecting food from the baskets was not an Argzoon. He was a man similar in build to myself, but with a pale complexion—perhaps caused by living in the sunless vaults of the Blue Giants.
His face had a strange, dead appearance. His eyes were dull, his features frozen as he mechanically transferred meat and vegetables from the baskets to a smaller basket he held in his left hand.
He was unarmed. His shoulders were bowed, his hair lank and uncared for.
There was no questioning his situation and function in the cavern-world of the Argzoon.
The man was a slave and seemed to have been one for a long time.
Being a slave he would, of course, have no love for his masters. On the other hand, how much had he been cowed by them? Could I reveal myself in the hope of receiving help from him, or would he be frightened and shout for help?
I had taken many risks to get this far. I must take a further risk now.
As silently as I could I climbed from cover and crept across the tops of the baskets towards him. He was half turned away from me and only seemed to notice me when I was almost on top of him.
When he saw me, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped, but he made no sound.
"I am a friend," I whispered.
"F-friend . . . ?" He repeated the word dully as if it meant nothing to him.
"An enemy of the Argzoon—a slayer of many of the Blue Giants."
"Aah!" He backed away in fear, dropping his basket.
I leapt to the ground and dashed towards the door, closing it. He turned to face me, his mouth trembling now, his eyes still wide in ghastly fear. It was evidently not me he feared so much as something that I represented to him.
"Y-you must go to the Queen—y-you must surrender yourself. D-do that and y-you may escape the N'aal Beast!"
"The Queen? The N'all Beast? I've heard the name—what is it?"
"O-oh, d-do not ask me!"
"Who are you? How long have you been here?" I tried a different line of questioning.
"I—I think my name was Ornak Dia . . . Y-yes, that was it, that was my name ... I d-do not know h-how long . . . s-since w-we f-followed the Argzoon h-here and w-were led into ambush. Ththey had only sent half their strength against the lands of the south—we did n-not r-realize . . ." With these memories he seemed to remember something of the man he must have been previously, for his shoulders straightened a little and he held his mouth better.
"You were part of the force led by the Bradhi of the Karnala—is that right?" I asked him. I wondered what kind of hardships could have turned a warrior into this servile thing in such a comparatively short space of time.
"Th-that is right."
"They lured you down here where the rest of their army was waiting—it had been a calculated tactic—and when you reached the floor of the cavern-world they attacked you and wiped out your army. Isn't that what happened?" I had already guessed most of this, of course.
"Y-yes. They took prisoners. I am amongst the last of them left alive."
"How many prisoners?"
"Several hundreds."
I was horrified. Now it was plain that, as I had surmised, this move of the Argzoon had been carefully planned for years. The first force had been badly defeated, but it had severely weakened the strength of the southern nations. Secondly, the southern army's punitive force that had followed the Argzoon here had been led into a carefully laid trap and the weary warriors must have been fairly easy game for a force of fresh Argzoon warriors waiting in ambush. Then the Argzoon had put the second half of their strategy into operation, going secretly south in small numbers with the object of taking the south by surprise, beginning with Varnal. Something had disrupted this strategy—perhaps my slaying of their master-mind—and the plan had broken down. But much damage had been done. The south would take years recovering from the blow and while recovering would face constant danger from other, stronger would-be aggressors. The Vladnyar, for instance.
Now I asked the slave the leading question:
"Tell me—have two women been brought here recently? A dark one and a fair one."
“There h-has been a woman prisoner..."
Only one! I prayed that Shizala had not been killed on the way.
"What does she look like?"
"She is very beautiful—fair-haired—a Karnala woman, I think..."
I sighed with relief. "But what of Horguhl the Vladnyar—the dark-haired woman?"
"Ah!" His voice was a muted scream. "Do not mention th-that name. Do not mention it!"
"What is wrong?" I could see that he was in an even worse state now than when I had originally confronted him. Spittle ran down his chin and his eyes flickered crazily. He was trembling in every part of his body. He hugged himself, hunched and twitching. He began to moan slowly.
The City of the Beast or Warriors of Mars Page 10
