by Ernst Vlcek
“I wish you a happy flight and lots of success!” Manos called after us as we entrusted ourselves to the heavy talons of the mighty birds.
7/ THE TREASURE BARTER
Until now, no one had seen the real Fratulon.
There was a certain amount of personal gratification in playing the mystery figure. His was the role of the bon vivant who never failed to give an appraising eye to passing fair ladies, or the general epicurean and gourmet to whom food and drink were a part of his life style. These roles came easily to him because in certain respects they suited his character. And yet the personality he displayed to the aristocrats in Tarkihl was only a facade.
There was still no one on Gortavor who had come to know the real Fratulon, not even Atlan, although in the latter’s company he often lifted his mask—to a point. It was just enough so that Atlan could not fully perceive his real identity.
Because Atlan could only know who his teacher was and what goals he had set for himself when the youth had withstood his final test…
* * * *
Although I was fond of flying, it was not quite to my taste to be in the clutches of a giant bird of prey, high over the desert—much less so to be an easy target for every enemy lying in ambush below among the ruins.
But fortunately there were no untoward incidents. It was nevertheless a relief to leave Lay Manos’ roost far behind us and to come within sight of the gaunt ruin that was our goal. Here on the outer flank of the skeletal building remains, the bizarre structure of Prontier’s shelter hung suspended.
We were almost at our destination when I noticed for the first time that we were being followed at some distance by a fifth bird of prey. Now it suddenly caught up and flew past us, circling close over Prontier’s stronghold. I recognized the figure that the creature held suspended in its claws. It was Azhira!
“Father!” she cried out despairingly.
What was Lay Manos’ purpose in this manoeuvre?
An opening appeared in the strange construction atop the towering wall. A humanoid figure showed itself, but I could only make out the upper portion of it. I caught sight of wavy, long white hair framing a very ancientlooking face.
“Azhira!”
The bird carrying Ardelo flew so close to the aperture that the whitehaired one drew back in startled surprise. In the next moment the barrel of a ray weapon loomed in the opening.
“Don’t be stupid, Prontier!” yelled Ardelo. “If you open fire on us you won’t see your daughter again—at least not alive!”
“Then what do you devils want from me?”
“We’ve come to work out a price with you for your daughter?” shouted Ardelo. “Lay Manos sent us. Let us land first so we can go into the details!”
The opening banged shut with a loud slamming sound, but before us was a porch like platform. The ray weapon had disappeared.
First, Ardelo was set down by his bird beast—then Ice Claw and Fratulon and myself in succession, until all of us felt a firm support under our feet. I breathed a big sigh of relief.
“You take it from here, Sawbones?” said Ardelo. “But just don’t forget the girl’s life is at stake. Don’t try any tricks. In one hour, Lay Manos will send a bird after me to bring me back, and he expects to get a positive decision.”
“I’ll keep it in mind?” Fratulon promised, glumly.
In front of us an armourplated door swung upward, revealing an Arkonide. He was armed with a dagger and wore his unkempt hair tied behind his head in a knot. Behind him appeared two more men in an equally dishevelled condition.
“You men are armed?” said the man with the hair knot. “You'd better leave those weapons at the entrance.”
Fratulon shook his head. “We come in peace, but we will not humble ourselves before you. Prontier will have to trust us if he’s interested in seeing his daughter again. We’re keeping our weapons.”
I could see uncertainty in the Arkonide’s face. Probably Prontier had told him to be sure to disarm us before leading us to him, but since the facts didn’t fit his instructions the sentinel didn’t know what he should do. The decision was made for him by Prontier himself.
His voice came to us from inside the stronghold. “Let them in, Waccor. I’ll receive just two of them, but no firearms! You keep an eye on the other two in the meantime!”
The man called Waccor made way for us. As we passed him he singled out Fratulon and myself. “You, Fatso, and you, little friend—you get to see the Professor. And you two…” He pointed to Ardelo and Ice Claw… “…are going to keep me company.”
We entered the improvised fortress, which appeared no less bizarre on the inside than it had from the exterior. The entire structure was supported by an assortment of metal and plastic beams which were cross-braced by other supporting members. From this network of girders a number of compartments had been suspended, which served the inhabitants as living quarters and storage rooms. The largest of these compartments loomed above us, composed of sturdy sheets of armour plate. A hatch opened in its floor and a rope ladder dropped down.
“I demand to be present at the negotiations?” announced Ardelo as he determinedly gripped his weapon.
Fratulon grinned and shook his head. “Your boss told me to handle this deal, remember? So I can also choose my partner in this. You heard the Professor’s conditions—no firearms. It’s better that you remain here, Ardelo. Ice Claw will keep you company.”
Ardelo stiffened visibly at this. His face darkened under its fixed shroud of hair. I thought he was about to lose control and draw his weapon, but then he thought better of it and complied with Fratulon’s instruction.
“That’s better, Ardelo?” said Fratulon. “Manos will be pleased with you.”
I was the first to climb the rope ladder. When I came up through the trapdoor, the barrel of a heavy raygun was thrust under my nose.
“Take it easy, Professor,?” I advised him. “Lay Manos sent us here to palaver with you—nothing more.”
I remained near the trapdoor with my hand fairly close to the hilt of my sword as I regarded the person facing me. Prontier was tall and slender but appeared smaller than he actually was because of his stooped posture. His long, narrow cranium was almost entirely obscured by the wild confusion of his long white hair. Beneath a high forehead sparkled a pair of dark eyes which alternately watched me and then Fratulon as he grunted his way through the narrow hatchway and joined us. His wrinkled face gave him an ancient appearance, but this impression was counteracted by the alert life energy that burned in his eyes.
“You can put your weapon away, Professor?” said Fratulon. “You have nothing to fear from us. We do not belong to Lay Manos' outfit. He has forced us to be gobetweens for him. We had to accede to his demands so as not to endanger your daughter’s life.”
Prontier inspected us searchingly. “Actually, you don’t look much like criminals?” he said, finally. “Who are you, and what have you to do with that Manolian?”
Fratulon briefly told him our story. It boiled down to the fact that we had come from Tarkihl in response to a distress call, we had saved Azhira from the clutches of the Zagors, and then had fallen into the hands of Lay Manos and his men.
“I’m inclined to believe your story?” said Prontier, but he still trained his weapon on us. “The only thing I don’t understand is why Manos chose you, his prisoners, to carry out this mission. He must realize that you wouldn’t voluntarily go back to him.”
“Manos has given us our freedom?” I interjected. “But he’s sure that Fratulon, as physician to the Tatto of Gortavor, will not gamble with your daughter’s life. The real reason Manos let us go is that he fears the epidemic that’s supposed to have broken out in Komyal’s camp. It’s to his own interest that we prevent the plague from spreading.
“I’ve heard about the plague?” said Prontier. He gave us another testy look, then made a decision to dispense with the weapon. “I believe you. I don’t see any reason why you should try to deceive me. So
what is the message you are supposed to give me from Lay Manos? What is he asking in return for Azhira?”
Fratulon stated the condition succinctly: “He wants the treasure you brought up out of Zagooth.”
Prontier’s eyes widened in astonishment. “What, treasure?”
Fratulon and I exchanged quick glances. Prontier’s surprise appeared to be genuine.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what treasure he’s talking about?” said Fratulon, “but I gathered the impression that Manos was sure of it. He seemed to have information that you have found something of value, and that’s what he wants in exchange for Azhira. If you do not fulfil his requirement he will kill the girl. That is no idle threat, Prontier. I’m convinced he means business.”
“So he knows that I’ve found something in the labyrinths that I attach a value to?” muttered the Professor, more or less to himself. “Where did he get this information? It could be that one of my men has mentioned it to some of the other treasure hunters. I might have known that they were not trustworthy. I hired them at the Gortavor spaceport although I realized that they were only adventurers and fortune hunters. But you can’t scare up a better type of men…”
“It’s no use trying to figure out who could have told Manos about your valuable discovery?” said Fratulon. “He’s got your daughter. He’ll only set her free in exchange for the treasure.”
Prontier slowly shook his head while a bitter smile touched his lips. “Lay Manos could not have found out what my find pertains to because I’ve not discussed it with anyone,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders resignedly. Then he looked at us again and added: “The Manolian will not set Azhira free, even if I give him all my treasures.”
“You leave that to us, Professor?” I answered swiftly. “We’ll see to it that he keeps his part of the bargain.”
Prontier did not seem much convinced by my words. Again he shook his head. “Manos will be disappointed if I turn these treasures over to him—because to him they are completely worthless. They are only cultural artefacts of the original people of Gortavor which only have a hypothetical value. See for yourselves.”
Prontier turned to the rear section of the room. As he turned his back to us I heard a series of strange noises through the trapdoor. I went over to the opening and looked below.
I saw Ice Claw struggling with Ardelo. The chretkor sought to grasp Ardelo with his claws, but the Arkonide was much too nimble for him. He seemed to know what uncanny power lay in Ice Claw’s hands. He struck the chretkor over the head with the butt of his weapon.
Ice Claw succeeded in grasping Ardelo’s neck with both hands, and he closed his grip. I was about to breathe easy again when I noticed that this seemed to have no effect on Ardelo whatsoever. Which led me to suspect that his special hairdo was insulating him from Ice Claw’s deadly forces.
The Arkonide broke free of the grip and struck Ice Claw down with a vicious blow. I was in the act of ducking out of sight when Ardelo, discovered me and aimed his beamer at me.
“Don’t move, Atlan?” he warned me, “or your career as a junior sawbones will be cut real short!”
“You must have lost your mind?” I blurted out at him. “If Manos finds out how you’ve interrupted our dealings, he’ll let his birds have you for supper!”
Ardelo laughed. “They’ve gotten used to Zagors. Besides, I don’t give a hoot about Lay Manos. I’m going to have that treasure for myself. Now move! Tell the Professor to hand it over or I’ll broil all of you alive up there! And don’t let him get any smart ideas. His loyal servant, Waccor, has told me what the jewel box looks like where the treasure is kept.”
So Waccor had turned traitor, I thought, and here Ardelo was also going behind Manos’ back who thought he could trust him. It was grotesque and somewhat ironical that all of them were after a treasure that wasn’t worth a thing to them. I might have found it all amusing if Azhira’s life hadn’t been at stake in the matter.
“I won’t wait much longer, Prontier!” shouted Ardelo.
Without moving from my place, I said: “Give him the treasure, Professor.”
“But then what happens to Azhira?”
“Didn’t you say, yourself, that Lay Manos probably wouldn’t go for the trade?” I reminded him. “If Ardelo thinks the treasure will make him happy, then give it to him.”
“Atlan is right?” I heard Fratulon say behind me. “It makes no sense for us to sacrifice ourselves over that jewel box. We’ll manage to find another way to set Azhira free.”
Even as Fratulon spoke I was aware of small noises behind me that sounded like the opening and closing of a container, and I knew that Sawbones had caught my secret signal and followed through.
Right after that, Prontier moved into my field of vision, carrying the jewel case. It was about the length of a forearm, half as wide, and a hand breadth deep. I took it out of Prontier’s hand and handed it down to Ardelo, who received it without lowering his weapon.
“It feels pretty light?” he said suspiciously as he weighed the box in his hand.
“It’s an old superstition that the worth of something has to match its weight,” I said.
“Just the same I’m going to see if this thing is also slightly empty or not?” insisted Ardelo, drawing back toward the armourplated door. He reached behind him, pulled back the bolt, and shoved the door open.
Only then did he open the cover of the box.
His eyes widened in horror as a greenish cloud of gas poured out of it. He cried out. The weapon fell from his hand. He clutched at his throat, gasping for breath. He staggered outside where he stumbled and fell across the platform. I watched him as he went over the edge, still clutching the chest to him, and fell away into the depths below.
“Now all my work and research has been for nothing?” commented Prontier gloomily. “And there’s no possibility of saving Azhira.”
* * * *
“I couldn’t imagine that Ardelo would go over the edge with the box?” said Fratulon remorsefully. “That vial I placed in the chest only contained some knockout gas. Anyway, you don’t have to give up yet, Professor. We’ll just climb down and fetch your treasure back.”
Prontier waved off the suggestion with a deprecating gesture. “That isn’t what I meant at all when I said that my researches have been in vain. It doesn’t even make any difference to me whether I retrieve those archaeological artefacts or not. If I lose Azhira, nothing else would make any sense or have any value to me. Lay Manos won’t believe me when I tell him I have no articles of value with which to pay the ransom for Azhira’s release. He will assume that I am not interested in making such an exchange, and he will kill her.”
“We’ll find a way to outsmart that Manolian?” I declared, although at the moment I didn’t see any way out. “We don’t have to advertise the fact that what he wants doesn’t actually exist, you know.”
“Atlan has a point there?” agreed Fratulon. “We could pretend to be agreeable with his terms for the exchange, but first we have to gain some time so that we can work out a plan.”
Meanwhile, we had all come down the ladder to the lower floor level near the door. It was at this moment that Ice Claw recovered from the blow he had received from Ardelo. Having overheard some of our conversation, he proceeded to give us some added information.
“While you were negotiating with the Professor?” he said, “Waccor and the other two men with him went out of here somewhere. He made an excuse to them that the traps had to be checked that protect the approaches to this place, but it looked to me as though he and Ardelo had something cooking between them. At first it seemed ridiculous to think that the two of them could be working together in secret, but I kept an eye on them just the same. So it didn’t come as a complete surprise to me when Ardelo made his attack.”
He stared at his hands perplexedly. “But I still don’t understand why my forces had no effect on him.”
I explained it to him: “I saw you at the time, Ice Claw. It w
as that crazy hairdo of his—it worked like an insulator against those iceberg hands of yours.”
Fratulon spoke up: “There’s no doubt about it—Waccor and Ardelo have made a deal between them for dividing up the booty. And if Waccor doesn’t find any loot with Ardelo’s corpse he’ll assume that it’s still up here in the stronghold. Presumably he’ll get some cronies together in an attempt to storm this place.”
“Just let him try it?” commented Prontier grimly. “I’ll give those crooks a hot reception. I have an energy weapon against their spears and bows and arrows. Besides, there is a series of traps he’ll have to deactivate before he can get here.”
“Nevertheless, Professor, you aren’t going to be safe here any longer?” put in Fratulon.
“Nor was I?” retorted Prontier. “I had imagined myself to be safe because I trusted my men. I noticed some of their duplicity for the first time when I was in Zagooth. They left me behind, probably in the hopes that I would become lost in the labyrinths, but I found my way out. They protested their innocence in the matter but I didn’t believe them. When we returned here to the shelter I found that Waccor had been tied up and the others killed. Waccor told me that Vafron had forced his way in and stolen Azhira. Now I’m just about convinced that Waccor let Vafron come into the fort.”
“Wouldn’t it be possible?” I said, “that Waccor might get together with Vafron again? If Vafron made it once into your fortress he ought to be able to do it a second time. You have to get out of here, Professor, before Waccor gets reinforcements and lays a siege on this place.”
“Let them come?” he answered, crestfallen. “If I can’t hold out here I have a means of escape that even Waccor doesn’t know about. But why should I run away at all? I don’t have anything more to lose. Let Vafron have his little triumph.”
“If there’s an escape route, so much the better?” I said. “You can leave your base together with us and be undetected. That way, the others will think we’re still here. And while they’re storming this place we can be trying to rescue Azhira.”
