Spider Desert

by Ernst Vlcek

  Only then was I able to look to my comrades, but it seemed they were no longer in need of my help. Fratulon stood there, legs apart, with Skarg poised ready in his hand. At his feet lay a bloodied Zagor. Another lay nearby in an unnatural position. Since he did not exhibit any visible wounds, I assumed that Ice Claw had taken care of him—just as he was taking care of the last one. As I looked at the chretkor he released the limp reptile from his deadly strangle hold.

  Suddenly, Azhira let out a cry of warning.

  I whirled about and sighted more Zagors emerging from the Spider Desert. “Get to those ruins!” I ordered, and I fired a few random beam shots at the new attackers before I took Azhira’s hand and ran with her toward the nearest funnelshaped building.

  Just as I thought we had arrived at a point of safety, the girl cried out and staggered. I barely blocked her fall. As I gripped her upper arm, something wet and warm seeped through my fingers—blood!

  “Azhira, you’re wounded!” I exclaimed, somewhat shaken by the fact, and I drew her in under the protection of the outjutting masonry.

  She stared in wideeyed perplexity at her bloodied arm. Then her gaze turned to the greenskinned Manolian, who lay close by with a spear protruding from his back. He was still moving.

  “Fratulon!” Sawbones and Ice Claw had just caught up to us. “See what you can do for that Manolian,” I said.

  The sturdy doctorwarrior grasped the 4armed creature and drew him in under the protection of the wall.

  In the meantime I had taken out my ray weapon again and turned toward our attackers, but the Zagors were already making a retreat. They must have realized that they couldn’t take us by surprise, and apparently they also feared that other inhabitants of the ruins might come to our aid.

  “It’s alright now?” I announced with relief. “We’re safe… Ice Claw, keep an eye on the desert while I take care of Azhira’s wound.”

  Fratulon had placed the Manolian on his side and was inspecting his back wound. However, the spear was so deep that it could not be extracted without wounding the creature more severely… As I met Fratulon’s gaze, he shook his head slightly.

  I examined Azhira’s arm wound. “It isn’t bad?” I reassured her, and I slipped the back pack off my shoulders.

  “I… I felt a terrible blow when that spear hit me. I thought it was going right through my arm?” she said, somewhat weakly. Her face was abnormally pale.

  “It’s only a harmless flesh wound?” I told her. “I’ll bind it up and give you a sedative. After that you’ll feel better, Azhira.”

  The Manolian opened his eyes and looked about him with a glassy stare. “What… happened?” he asked in broken Arkonide. He moved his 4 arms and sought to touch his back.

  “Be still?” Fratulon ordered, pressing the other’s arms back. “You need rest, friend.”

  “Who struck me down?” asked the Manolian faintly. A greenish spittle appeared at one comer of his mouth.

  “The Zagors hit you before you could get to safety?” answered Fratulon.

  “Ah yes… the Zagors. I remember.

  I had fixed Azhira’s arm wound and given her her sedative, so now I turned my attention to the Manolian.” We’ve driven back the Zagors,” I said. “They are no longer a threat to us.”

  The Manolian made a wry face. “They are… a constant threat. They seek victims for their humming god.”

  As his glassy eyes turned to me, I nodded. “We saw three of Lay Manos’ men who fell into their hands. Are you with the same outfit?”

  The Manolian nodded weakly. “I am… Noy Manos… Lay’s secondincommand. When he saw you he sent me out here to… to bring you to him. Are you… ?”

  “We’ve come from Tarkihl in response to a distress call that must have come from this area,” I answered.

  “That is right?” he said and then paused to carefully draw a deep breath. Three of his arms jerked forward gropingly. As the three hands found my right arm and closed around it, their grip was very feeble. “You have to get to Lay… he wants to talk to you…”

  “Is he the one who sent out the distress signal?” I asked.

  The Manolian released his grip on my arm and sought to support himself on his four hands. “I’ll take you to him.” He collapsed, powerless to support himself.

  “Was it Lay Manos who sent out that call?” I repeated.

  But there was no response from the Manolian.

  “He’s dead?” Fratulon confirmed. He closed his eyes and jerked the spear out of his back.

  “And we still don’t know what’s going on here?” I said.

  “You’re right about that?” replied Fratulon as he watched the desert with narrowed eyes. “At any rate we know why the ruins look so dead and deserted. The inhabitants are afraid of the Zagors because they’re on the warpath.”

  I agreed. Normally the Zagors were content to just attack the caravans, but when the bloodlust came upon them and they were short of sacrificial victims they would form large war parties and even attack heavily defended strongholds and fortresses. At such times, one was not safe from them even in the Marauthanian ruins.

  The only thing the Zagors feared then was the humming and vibrating of the silvery strands, because even they were not immune to the hypnotic emanations which were thus produced.

  “I suggest we look up this Lay Manos character first of all and find out what he wants from us?” I said. “It’s just possible he could have sent out that signal.”

  “But what will become of my father in the meantime?” objected Azhira, jumping to her feet. Since we gave her no answer, she made her own decision. “If you won’t go with me, I’ll make it up there alone!”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind, my pretty child.” It was a voice that came suddenly from behind us.

  I whirled and stared at the 4 bowmen who had stepped forth from among the fallen blocks of masonry. Three of them were Arkonides and the 4th was a Manolian who held two drawn bows simultaneously. All arrows were aimed directly at us.

  “Just don’t move from the spot!” warned one of the Arkonides.

  This one had the most unusual hair style I had ever seen. Long and silvery blond, it framed his face something like a helmet but fell in artistic patterns and waves over his shoulders, reaching to his chest and down his back. “We’ll shoot if you make the slightest suspicious

  Azhira cried out and ran away.

  “Azhira!” exclaimed Fratulon, horrified. He was about to follow her but the 4armed Manolian blocked his way with his doubly drawn bows. The 4 bowmen made no move to pursue Azhira, and I found out immediately the reason why.

  High above us there was a deepthroated cawing sound as a mighty shadow plunged downward toward the ground. It was a giant bird of prey which spread out its wings over Azhira, grasped her in its claws, and lifted her into the air. Then it disappeared with her into a hole in the broken outer wall of the coneshaped building.

  The Arkonide with the unusual hair only grinned. “We will now disarm you and bring you to Lay Manos,” he said. “If you value your lives, it would be advisable not to resist.”

  Fratulon grinned back. “You’re only doing us a favour, since we were more or less on our way to see Lay Manos.”

  * * * *

  The funnelshaped structures were master works of Arkonide architecture. As a rule they were normally only accessible through entrances from below. The various rooms and living quarters were arranged in terraces on the flanged inner side of the cone form, so that the middle of each structure was free for flowering plants which were arranged in a park like splendour that was heavenly to behold.

  But this pomp and magnificence was no more to be seen in the Marauthanian ruins. The builtin landscaping had deteriorated along with the buildings and the exotic plants had long since died out. Only a few of the hardier and more adaptive growths had managed to survive and send forth their tendrils and blooms among the fragments and debris on each level. As a result of changed environmental conditions,
even some of them had developed mutated forms.

  “My name is Ardelo.” The Arkonide with the spectacular hairdo introduced himself as we climbed higher through access shafts and up halfcrumbled stairs to the upper levels. “It might well be you’ll be dealing with me in the near future.”

  “I hope you won’t regret later that you made our acquaintance, Ardelo,” said Fratulon. He gave him our names and the reason for our being here.

  Ardelo only laughed. “Lay Manos will be glad to have a sawbones as his guest. When he finds out that you’re responsible for the wellbeing of the Tatto of Gortavor, he’ll be doubly impressed.”

  We came to the upper end of the stairs. I estimated that we must be 20 levels above the desert. Through a gap in the outer wall I could see the great web far below, sparkling in the last rays of the setting sun.

  Ardelo stopped before an abysslike hole that was some 20 paces wide and sank a few levels into the depths. On the other side of the pit was a wall that was overgrown with plants with large yellow leaves.

  “Hey, are you asleep over there!?” Ardelo called across the intervening space. “Let’s have the drawbridge!”

  No sooner had he spoken than a part of the wall rattled out of the way, leaving an aperture about 6feet wide. Shortly thereafter, a ramp supported by two iron chains spanned the abyss.

  “Alright, get on over!” Ardelo commanded.

  I was the first to walk onto the narrow bridge. Fratulon and Ice Claw followed me. On the other side we were received by 3 Manolians. The part of the building we entered had been really well preserved, even though none of the original furnishings were here anymore. On the walls there were still some fragments remaining of the selfilluminating material that had been used in various parts of the Zagooth labyrinths.

  There was considerable disorganization here. Bales and boxes were stacked about in jumbled fashion among machinery parts, weapons, and food provisions. But immediately I noticed that the weapons consisted entirely of swords, lances, clubs and other primitive fighting implements. There was no sign of ray beamers or other modem weapons. Even Lay Manos’ men carried only primitive types of weapons.

  It caused me to fear that we’d have little chance of ever seeing our energy weapons again.

  Ardelo went with his cohorts into some lateral passage and left us in the hands of the 3 Manolians. They escorted us into a large chamber, the floor of which was covered with furs topped by a scattering of colourful pillows in all shapes and sizes. Along one wall were a number of plundered articles of furniture that were an unaccustomed luxury for those who lived in the ruins.

  Another wall was broken through in various places, offering a good view of the ruins below. About 180 to 200 feet beyond these improvised windows a slender wall fragment rose into the sky. On the highest pinnacle of this pillar was a fairly large platform where several of the giant birds of prey had built their nests. In that moment I chanced to see one of them land there with a Zagor in its claws. The ensuing shrieks and cacklings sent a shudder through me and I turned away from the horrible spectacle.

  Not far away in the middle of the chamber was a thronelike chair in which sat an unusually large Manolian. On the chair’s tall backrest perched one of the dangerous, carnivorous birds of prey.

  “I bid you welcome, noble sirs!” announced the green man in faultless Arkonide, and he swept his arms open in an extravagant gesture. “My vassals have reported to me that you come from Tarkihl. This is excellent, as it should prove advantageous to my plans. After all, Prontier would be more likely to deal with noblemen than with men of uncertain heritage.”

  Fratulon took several swift steps toward the Manolian, but he paused when the great bird on the chair fluttered its wings restlessly and opened its sharp beak. “I am Fratulon, personal physician of the Tatto, Armanck Declanter,” said Sawbones, with a grave dignity. “Am I to deduce from your words that you only sent out a distress signal in order to entice me here and exploit my services for some dark purpose of your own?”

  The Manolian reacted in some surprise. However, he recovered quickly, apparently pleased. “Well, so you’re the Tatto’s private medico, eh? Then I may expect you to be a man of reason rather than one who might get carried away by foolish impulses. Since you are a physician, all intelligent life is sacred to you. So I’m hoping you will do everything possible to save Azhira.”

  I moved to Fratulon’s side, while keeping a wary eye on the fidgety bird beast. “You haven’t answered Fratulon’s question yet. Lay Manos, were you the one who sent out that distress call?”

  The greenskinned Manolian’s face reflected a mixture of surprise and anger. “What are you talking about? What distress.call? I don’t even have a transceiver. And why should I send for help? I can take care of myself in any situation.”

  “If that is true, then you don’t need us?” I retorted. “Let us go so that we can help the ones who sent the call.”

  “That is enough!” shouted Manos angrily.

  The bird beast shot from the chair as though by command and sailed toward me on its giant wings. Before it could rake me with its talons, I was just able to drop to the floor out of its range. By the time I got to my feet again, the bird was already back in its place on top of the throne.

  “That was merely a warning. The next time I send Ayff at you, your quickness will not do you any good. Who are you to put on airs with me, anyway?”

  “I am Atlan, assistant to Fratulon?” I answered.

  Lay Manos pointed to the chretkor and asked: “Who are you?”

  “Ice Claw.”

  Manos nodded. “A fitting name. You look like a wandering iceberg that’s gone astray in the desert.” He smacked the arms of his chair with two of his 4 hands. “I can see I’m going to have to speak plainly to you. Basically it’s immaterial where you hail from or what you want here. It’s even possible that you don’t know anything about Azhira and her father. But fate has thrown you together with the girl so that you are responsible for her.”

  “Lay Manos, you are unable to force us,” Fratulon began.

  But the Manolian interrupted him with a multi-handed gesture of impatience. “Get off your high horse, sawbones—this isn’t Tarkihl! I know that you’ll do anything you can to spare the girl’s life. If you will do what I ask you will be a free man and can do your duty as you see fit. But before you help the ones who sent out the distress call, you must perform a service for me.”

  “What do you want of us, Manos?” asked Fratulon.

  The Manolian sighed in evident relief. “At last you’re talking like a sensible man. I want you to find Prontier and tell him that his daughter, Azhira, is my prisoner. He can get her back as soon as he relinquishes to me the treasures that he brought up out of Zagooth. If he refuses, his daughter must die.”

  “And why do you choose us to be your mediators?” Fratulon wanted to know. “Why don’t you send one of your own people?”

  “That was my original intention?” answered the Manolian, “but I’ve decided that none of my men are sufficiently fluent to be able to handle this negotiation with Prontier. You are much more suitable for that. And you should be glad I’m entrusting this assignment to you. I could just as easily have had you executed.”

  “I’ll grant you that,?” admitted Fratulon. “But don’t expect too much from us. We can’t force Azhira’s father to agree to the exchange.”

  “He’ll meet my conditions?” said Manos, with conviction. “That is, if he wants his daughter back in one piece. You don’t have to do anything more than to be factual with Prontier and come to terms with him as to what will be in store for his daughter if he doesn’t hand over that Zagooth treasure. So that you may appreciate the confidence I have in your art of persuasion, I will permit your two friends to accompany you.”

  Fratulon persisted with a further inquiry: “Are you expecting one of us to come back with Prontier’s answer?”

  The other shook his head. “Once you’ve completed your mission, you a
re free. I’ll send Ardelo along with you, and he’ll bring back Prontier’s message to me. You have just one hour to change the old fool’s mind. If Ardelo isn’t back here by then, Azhira will die.”

  “One hour!” protested Fratulon. “It may take us at least that long to fight our way through to Prontier’s hiding place!”

  The Manolian laughed. “You will go there by air, of course!” he announced.

  I shuddered when I heard a cackling and cawing and beating of wings coming from the direction of the improvised windows. Four of the giant birds had just entered there and were settling to the floor of the hall.

  “You will be as swift as the wind, and what’s more, you won’t have to fight it out with the other treasure hunters or the Zagors, either. On that basis also, there’s no reason for returning your energy weapons to you. I’ll keep them as a present to me.”

  Fratulon clenched his fists angrily. “Manos, if you put us out in the ruins without weapons, you know we’re done for. At least give me back my sword and furnish my friends with swords also. If we face Prontier without weapons, we’ll be dealing from a weaker position, right from the start!”

  Lay Manos considered this briefly. Then he yielded to Fratulon’s request and added: “Alright, sawbones, I’ll let you have your equipment back. And if you’ll take a piece of advice from me, I suggest you look up Komyal’s outfit when you’re through with Prontier. The Voolynesian has some radio equipment and is probably the one who sent out the distress call. A bad epidemic of some kind has broken out among his people—maybe a plague…”

  “A plague!” echoed Fratulon incredulously.

  “Yes, a plague?” confirmed Manos. “After you’ve taken care of my little chore you’d better go take care of the Voolynesians. Ever since this morning when word of the epidemic got out, none of the inhabitants of these ruins has dared to come out of hiding. We’d all be obliged to you, sawbones, if you were able to keep this thing from spreading.”

  “Thanks for the information?” muttered Fratulon, suppressing his rage.

  Ardelo came into the throne room and handed over Skarg and the firstaid kit to Fratulon. He also issued one sword apiece to me and Ice Claw. I noted that he had thrust my hand beamer into his belt.