by Lin Carter
“And let’s hope they never do,” I muttered.
“Amen to that,” said the Professor fervently.
But we had no time for discussion; things were heating up, and time was getting short.
“More Gorpaks approach, Eric Carstairs!” boomed the deep voice of Garth as he came up to us. “Already the men of Sothar have unlimbered the rope—”
I looked across the chamber. While I had been driving the Sluagghs back into their noisome burrows under the floor, the Sotharians had been trying to secure the long rope we had made from knotted strips of our clothing about the edge of the balcony. A loop had been fashioned, and a slipknot. How many tries they made before it snagged the sharp protruding corner of the balcony I never bothered to ask, but it was secure now.
Already the men and women of Sothar were climbing the rope to gather on the balcony. We ran over to where they stood, and I boosted Darya up when her turn came while Hurok and Garth and the mightier of the Sotharian fighting men stood guard at the doorway, armed now with weapons seized from the Gorpaks they had felled.
As it chanced, we all managed to climb to the balcony level before the reinforcements arrived. Drawing our improvised rope ladder up with us, to discourage its use by our pursuers, we made tracks through the storerooms and other chambers Hurok had described.
Almighty God, but it was like cold water to a man perishing of thirst, to be running free through the upper level of the cavern city, with a long trident in my hand and my beloved at my side! Freedom has a heady taste—better than all the champagne in the world!
* * * *
With Hurok at the fore, we retraced the route he had first taken into the maze of caverns. Erelong we reached that huge, unused chamber that had been his first glimpse of the city of the Sluagghs.
There was the wall of dressed and mortared stone, just as he had described it. The stone wall which separated this portion of the outermost parts of the city from the natural caverns.
And there was the old, forgotten door of rotten wood through which he had forced his way.
A shattered ruin, it hung in fragments from rusted hinges. I smiled with relief at the sight of it; never had any door in all the world looked so damned good to me before.…
In less time than it would take to tell, we were through the door, to the last man and woman, and stood in the black and lightless caverns of the hollow mountains.
But they were lightless no more! For still our torches burned brightly, and by their treble radiance we could see the mouth of a black opening in the jagged wall.
“Hurok believes that is the way he came hither,” grunted my huge friend, pointing.
We headed for it, wasting no time, for surely the Gorpaks would be yelping at our heels before too many minutes had gone by.
And so began our flight from the caverns, and the nightmare of our slavery in this living hell was over and done with forever.
CHAPTER 19
Pursued
If Captain Lutho was furious at the escape of the captives, his superior, Commander Gronk, was well nigh mad with outrage. Quivering with fury, the fat little officer shrilled abuse on Lutho, who shriveled and wilted before the withering scorn in his superior’s tones.
“How is it possible for even a miserable worm like the contemptible Lutho to permit such an insurrection?” shrieked Gronk, wild-eyed, spittle foaming at the corners of his thin-lipped mouth. “For the animals to revolt—in the very presence of the Lords!—is unheard of in the annals of the City; for such brutes to inflict violence upon Gorpaks is a crime beyond parallel; for such groveling and spineless beasts to shame and humiliate us before the Lords is an atrocity which—which—”
The fat Gorpak commander broke off as if words failed him. For a moment or two he sought to find an adjective equal to the task of describing the horror, but his vocabulary was too limited. So he expressed himself by snatching up his whip and dealing the unhappy Lutho a blow across the face.
Lutho squalled, touching with care the raw welt which traversed his features. He fell to his knees, bowing his narrow shoulders as Gronk, spitting with fury, rained blows with his lash across the back and shoulders and buttocks of Lutho.
At length, wearying of the unaccustomed exercise, the fat officer threw down his whip and, seizing Lutho by the ears, lifted him squealing with pain to his feet.
“Go after them, worm! Bring them back! Follow! Pursue! Capture!” hissed Gronk between clenched teeth, punctuating his directives with slaps across Lutho’s bleeding face.
Not bothering to speak, Lutho saluted and ran off. In the corridor he encountered his underling, Vusk, who failed to conceal a smirk as he noticed the weals of Gronk’s lashing. Whereupon Lutho vented his frustration and shame by kicking Vusk from one side of the corridor to the other.
Somewhat relieved, and breathing heavily, Lutho snapped brusque orders to the whimpering Vusk, to marshal the Gorpak forces for the pursuit of the escaped captives.
“The animals fled by means of the Grand Cavern,” he barked. “They will take Tunnel Fourteen, and either emerge from the mountain on its sheer face, or turn aside into Tunnel Thirteen, which will lead them to Exit ‘C’—”
“Yes, O valiant and sagacious Captain!” blubbered the unfortunate Vusk, rubbing his bruised buttocks.
“We will outwit the animals by predicting, with our superior intellects, their behavior,” snarled Lutho. “Take your force by means of Tunnel Seven to Exit ‘B’, and lie in wait for them to emerge into the daylight.”
“As ever, my Captain is wise and fearless—”
“I will follow shortly at your heels with the Third and Fourth Squads. We will round the animals up—mind, worm, that you slay or injure as few as possible in the recapturing!—and return them to the pens, whereupon the Feasting will resume. In this manner, if all is accomplished speedily and efficiently, we shall redeem ourselves in the sight of the Lords. Swift, now!”
Vusk threw his captain a hasty salute and bolted to summon his squad. In no time the troop of bandy-legged little men were trotting briskly down the corridor which led to the outer world.
But this was certainly not going to be Captain Lutho’s lucky day, by any means. For the exit to which he had directed his soldiers just happened to be the stone trapdoor at the top of the cliffs which ran like a rocky spine down the length of the promontory.
Yes, the same trapdoor which, even at that moment, Tharn and the warriors of Thandar were striving to pry open.…
* * * *
I don’t know whether you have ever had the opportunity to run through pitch-black caverns stark naked, but if you have thus far managed to avoid the experience, then I advise to you to keep it up. For it is certainly no fun.
Of course, the torches which we had carried off from the Chamber of Feasting shed some light. But the caverns wound and bent, and half the time the light was behind us and we were running in black gloom. In no time flat we were all bruised from bumping or scraping our naked bodies against the rough stone walls and sharp protuberances of the caves, and were covered with dust and grime.
Hurok led the way, since he was the only one of us who had ever explored this cavern. But he very soon got lost. The trouble was, I suppose, that feeling your way through the labyrinth of caves in the pitchblack darkness is a lot different from trying to retrace your steps in the light of the torches.
At length he paused, scratching his heavy jaw, small eyes reflecting his bafflement.
“Don’t tell me the huge oaf has lost his way,” panted Professor Potter testily.
I shrugged, fearing that to be the case, which it more or less was. Hurok came lumbering over to where I stood with Darya, catching my breath. He looked confused.
“Are you lost, Hurok?” I inquired. He slowly shook his huge head.
“Hurok
believes that to continue on in this direction will lead the friends of Black Hair to the outer world,” said the Neanderthal in his deep, guttural tones.
“Well, then, let’s keep going,” I suggested. “Surely, by now, all the little Gorpaks in the cavern city are yapping at our heels like a pack of hunting dogs—”
“Black Hair does not understand the hesitation of Hurok,” he explained. “Hurok entered the caverns through a hole in the side of the mountain, far up. For Hurok was scaling the mountain and entered the hole in its side to escape the attack of a thakdol.”
“In other words, if we keep on going in this direction we will come out on the side of a cliff,” I groaned. “Well, that’s just dandy! I can just see the whole gang of us, stark naked and worn out, trying to climb down the cliff one by one, with the Gorpaks behind us and the thakdols snapping at our noses.”
He nodded heavily. “That thought has also occurred to Hurok,” he admitted. “And Hurok suggests that the friends of Black Hair follow this side cavern, which branches off from the way in which Hurok came.”
“Do you know where it leads?” inquired the Professor. Hurok solemnly confessed that he did not.
“But the Peaks of Peril are honeycombed with caves and tunnels,” he pointed out, “and surely there will be many exits into the daylight world.”
“That’s probably true,” mused Professor Potter, scratching his nose. “We already know of two others, at least: the door in the wall by which I gained admittance into this disgusting place and the trapdoor atop the cliff wall by which the young lady, here, and her friend Jorn got in. Well, where there are three entrances there will certainly be more.…”
“Let us try it then,” rumbled Garth who had come near to listen to our conversation.
So we turned aside and entered the cavern that Hurok had advised. It was no less winding and rough than had been the first one we had followed, and at the end of its circuitous path might well lie yet another way out of the hollow mountains. At any rate, our turning off into the side tunnel would possibly confuse the Gorpaks, whom we then thought to be directly behind us, since in their excitement they would probably pass right by the little, narrow entrance to the side tunnel and continue on in the general direction of our flight.
Of course, we had no way of knowing that the shrewd Gorpaks had anticipated that we would do this, since they certainly knew this maze of tunnels better than we, and were planning to ambush us as we emerged from this very tunnel.
* * * *
Although he has played very little part in the affairs I have been describing to you, One-Eye of course accompanied us. The hulking Apeman had—as we would say in the Upper World—maintained a low profile during the period of our captivity in the cavern city. He ate by himself and slept apart from the others, and seldom if ever communicated with any of us, save in surly grunts. I think that One-Eye was afraid I was going to get my new friends, the Sotharians, to gang up on him in revenge for the brutalities I had experienced at his hands.
Anyway, he kept himself in the rear of things as unobtrusively as was possible under the circumstances, and probably had long planned to get away by himself at the first opportunity.
And this was the first opportunity.
When we turned off into the narrow little side tunnel, One-Eye fell back to the rear and let the rest of us move ahead. As soon as we were gone, the Neanderthal emerged from the side tunnel and continued on down the main tunnel which led to the hole in the face of the cliff.
He thought himself unobserved, doubtless; but in this, One-Eye was seriously mistaken.
Murg the Sotharian, too, had lingered in the rear of our party, more, I think, from natural cowardice than from any particular scheme of his own. I believe I have mentioned this fellow before; he was skinnier and uglier than the other warriors of Sothar, with mean little eyes, and an obsequious manner. He was always sucking up to the Gorpaks and cringing before them and whispering to them in an oily, conspiratorial way. Instinctively, I disliked and distrusted him, for all that he was the brother of Garth the High Chief; but never were two brothers more unlike than these two: Garth was stalwart, majestic, fearless—a born leader, with the ability to command respect from others. Murg, on the other hand, was wily and cunning and treacherous, and always looking out for Murg first and everybody else distinctly second.
He was the sort of person who doesn’t have any friends, only allies and henchmen.
Murg, then, was in a position to observe One-Eye as the huge Neanderthal slunk out of the tunnel and went waddling down the main cavern. This action piqued Murg’s curiosity, for he was an inquisitive man, always sticking his nose into other people’s business and meddling in their affairs.
Wondering what One-Eye was up to, Murg yielded to the temptation to follow, presuming he could always catch up to the rest of his people should he wish to. So, keeping well to one side, and making as little noise as possible, he began to follow One-Eye.
The Apeman of Kor was waddling along at the best speed his bowed legs and splay feet were able to manage. The trouble was that the others had carried the torches, which meant that One-Eye had to traverse the tunnel in the dark. And this meant that he kept bumping into rocky projections and banging his head on stalactites and things.
It really wasn’t very hard for Murg to follow One-Eye. All he had to do was to keep his ears open and listen for the thumps when the Neanderthal bumped into something, and then the growling curse as One-Eye rubbed whichever member he had hurt.
* * * *
Before long, One-Eye saw daylight ahead, and knew that his journey was nearly over. Reaching the entrance, he peered cautiously out, looking around to see if any of those thakdols which Hurok had mentioned were flapping near. None were in sight, so the Apeman crawled out on the narrow stone ledge which served as the doorstep of the cave’s mouth and looked down.
At the base of the cliff the jungle grew close to the rocky foothills. A narrow ledge zigzagged down for a time, then petered out, but One-Eye could spot footholds and handholds and knew he could descend the cliff without much trouble.
Although a coward and a bully, One-Eye was tough enough. In the jungle world of Zanthodon, weaklings do not survive long enough to grow to One-Eye’s age, which I would guess at about forty. While the Neanderthal did not especially like heights, he did not especially fear them. And, with the huge splayed feet and prehensile toes and blunt, thick-fingered hands of his kind, One-Eye could climb as well as a monkey.
But first he concealed himself beside the edge of the entrance. Murg had made more noise than he had intended to, and echoes bounce down caverns. One-Eye didn’t know who was following him, but he intended to find out.
So, when Murg poked his nose out, One-Eye pounced!
CHAPTER 20
Hidden Eyes
Tharn of Thandar lifted one hand in the signal for silence, and immediately there ensued a cessation of all activity. His warriors had been striving to pry open the great trapdoor the scouts had discovered at the top of the cliffs, but all their attempts had thus far proved futile. Now, as Komad the scout knelt with his ear close to the rock, Tharn knew that something was amiss.
“What is it, O Komad?” he inquired after a moment.
The leader of the scouts rose to his feet. “Noises from the hollow places below, my Chief,” muttered Komad. “The tramp of many marching feet, and the clatter of weapons and accouterments. Someone is approaching the place whereover we stand; therefore, let us fall back to a secure distance and observe what will shortly transpire.”
“The suggestion of Komad is wise and prudent,” nodded Tharn. And he commanded his warriors to retire some little distance and to remain silent, avoiding any noise that might give the alarm to whoever marched in the cavern below.
Not very long thereafter, the great slab tilted to the pressure of some in
ternal mechanism unseen. And there emerged rapidly into the light of day as curious a troop of men as ever the warriors of Thandar had seen.
They came boiling up out of the space beneath like so many angry hornets whose nest has been disturbed, and they ascended to the top of the cliff from below by means of many bamboo ladders. Uncomprehendingly, the warriors and huntsmen of Thandar stared from where they crouched behind boulders, curious at the hairless, sallow little men with their bandy legs and odd garments and even stranger weapons.
“O Chief, shall we not attack them now, with the advantage of surprise?” whispered Ithar to his monarch. “For whoever these strange little men may be, surely the gomad Darya is their captive, since they rule the hollow places below, into which she must have descended.”
Tharn frowned thoughtfully. It went against the rude and simple chivalry of his race to strike from ambush against an unknowing foe, but the counsels of Ithar were wise, and victory alone is the desired end of any conflict. However, as things turned out, it was spared to Tharn of Thandar that he strike the first blow against the Gorpaks, for one of the bandy-legged little grotesques, staring around, spied a hiding Thandarian and squalled, giving the alarm.
He lifted his trident as if to cast it, but it went awry and clattered off a boulder.
In the next instant, a Thandarian arrow pierced the breast of the Gorpak, and the battle was joined.
The man who fell was Vusk, for I was able to identify his corpse later.
* * * *
From their own hiding place at the cliffs edge, the Barbary pirates stared with amazement as the cliff opened to disgorge a horde of odd-looking little people who promptly charged the Thandarian savages and went down like flies before their arrows and javelins.
