by Lin Carter
We were reluctant to kill the old man in cold blood, for he was not armed. Fortunately, Queb solved that problem for us by charging our line, shrilling imprecations. Automatically, the warriors raised their spears to fend him off, but in his frenzy the old witch doctor impaled himself on the spears and died quickly.
In retrospect, I realize that we had utterly no choice. All of the warriors who marched with us were of the same mind, and knew that we had no alternative but to invade the cavern city of the Gorpaks, if only to make sure that the rest of their captives and slaves were set free and the last of the Gorpaks wiped out.
Privately, I determined to exterminate the Sluagghs like the unholy vermin they were. None of us who had undergone the ordeal in the hollow mountains really wanted to go down there again. That was only natural and human of us; but we were also men. And men sometimes have to do things they don't really want to, or abandon honor and manhood.
The price of courage is very high. No hero myself, I know just how expensive bravery is. You have to swallow your fear, ignore your sweating palms and the queasiness in the pit of your stomach, and put a bold face on things. Or stop calling yourself a man ....
I am a man.
With Queb disposed of, we entered the Cavern of Feasting without further opposition, and pried up the great slab in the floor. All of us had brought with us torches which would burn brightly, so we knew we had little or nothing to fear from the monster leeches, so long as we did not look into their multiple eyes and thus permit them to gain the mastery of our minds.
We planned to kill them all, even the young. The Sluagghs were too dreadful a peril to allow them to continue their existence; they were the only, and the best, argument for genocide I have ever heard: They truly had no right to live, and I was convinced they must all be sought out and slaughtered.
The men of Thandar did not understand my feelings on this, but the men of Sothar were of the same mind. And so we killed them, holding high the blazing torches, spearing them to death as they flopped and wriggled on their beds of slime. They died quite easily, one spear thrust did it. You punctured their clammy hides and out spewed a vile, stinking black fluid that could only have been old, putrid human blood.
We slew them in a cold, hating fury. And then we went after the ones that had slithered away into the deeper burrows. It was a dirty, disgusting job, wading into those black sewers, murdering the slimy monsters in the fetid gloom, but it had to be done.
In the end we found their nests, tunneled far under the floor of the cavern. The young of the Sluagghs were like pale, wet grubs, and they were the size of human babies. Like infants, they squealed and mewed as they died.
I leaned against the wall and lost my breakfast in wracking, painful spasms. Not one of the warriors around me thought any the less of my courage or manhood for this. More than a few had vomited before me, and others were soon to follow us. The stench of the nests was horrible beyond belief.
I say little of this episode. It is not one of the things I have done that I am proud of. It was a dirty job, but it had to be done, and we did it. But it was not something you would want to remember afterwards.
When we came out, after it was all over, we were sick from the smell and covered with reeking filth, and trembling with nervous reaction. We washed ourselves off in one of the conduits that bore cold water from springs within the mountain through the cavern city for the purpose of sanitation.
Even after washing, we still felt unclean. And we all wished later that we could have washed our memories as we had washed our bodies. For the hideous experience lived in our dreams and especially in our nightmares for a long while afterward.
But at least it was over, and we had rid the world of the Sluagghs for all time.
And that was a job well worth doing!
Chapter 23. FUMIO REAPPEARS
Once the warriors of Thandar and Sothar had vanished from view within the hollow cliff, Xask and Fumio were free to act. Darya, Professor Potter, the old wise man, Coph, and the women and children of the Sotharian tribe were alone in the clearing, guarded only by a small number of warriors who had sustained minor injuries during their adventures which, while not incapacitating them, rendered them temporarily unfit for such exertions as the war against the Gorpaks.
Whispering conspiratorially together, the two villains laid their plans.
Moments later, Fumio emerged from the underbrush and walked boldly up to the guards. Those among them who were men of Thandar were astonished to see him alive, for it was thought that he had either long since perished in the jungle or had been carried off a captive of the Apemen to Kor. But here he was, alive and well, strolling casually into the encampment as if assured of a friendly greeting and a hospitable welcome.
"Does the chieftain Fumio yet live, then?" one of the huntsmen of Thandar, a fine-looking fellow named Ragor, wondered.
Fumio spread his hands with an easy smile.
"As Ragor sees, fortune has smiled on Fumio and he has braved the dangers of the wild to rejoin his countrymen," he said smoothly.
"Erdon perceives that someone has broken the nose of the chieftain Fumio," remarked another Thandarian warrior.
Fumio lost a little of his composure; for a moment an ugly glint showed in his eyes. Then he smiled easily again, with a wordless shrug.
By this time he had come very near to where the two guards stood. He did not seem to be armed.
As for Darya, she was so amazed at this sudden and unexpected reappearance of one she thought long dead that she was, literally, speechless. Since Jorn the Hunter had interrupted Fumio in the act of attempting to rape her, knocked him down and chased him away, she had long ago dismissed the very existence of her false-hearted former suitor from her mind. To find him turning up now, bold as brass, as if nothing had chanced to occur between them, momentarily robbed her of the ability of speech. She could hardly believe her eyes.
Perhaps I should explain at this point that while Jorn and Darya had informed the Omad of Thandar of the treachery of Fumio, this was a matter of private information and had not been spread throughout the ranks of the men of Thandar. It might have been wiser of Tharn had he informed his warriors of the villainies of the deposed and outlawed chieftain, but as he assumed Fumio to be dead, there seemed no reason for the event to be made a topic of general knowledge.
Had he chosen to do otherwise, of course, this history would have taken a very different turn ....
Professor Potter was speechless with amazement, too, but recovered the use of his tongue before Fumio had quite entered the encampment. He leveled a shaking and accusatory finger at the smiling villain.
"Great Galileo. but that's the rogue who struck me down with a cowardly blow from behind and was trying to assault the young lady here before Jorn pounced on him, mined his handsome face and drove him off in scorn!" he shrilled, redfaced with outrage.
Instantly, Ragor and Erdon snapped to attention, lifting their weapons to readiness. But it was already too late for such measures, for Fumio was among them by that time. He seized the still speechless Darya and from the cover of the furs which clothed his loins, whipped out a sharp flint knife, whose keen edge he placed at the base of Darya's throat.
"Lay down your weapons, or my blade will drink the life of the gomad Darya," he snarled. Stony-faced, the two warriors let their spears fall to the sward.
"Do not any of the rest of you move or attempt to interfere with us," warned Fumio. "Come, woman!" he commanded Darya, giving her arm a vicious twist. Unresistingly, the girl rose to her feet and accompanied him as he forced her from the encampment and the protection of her friends.
"The old man, too," called Xask from the edge of the trees. Speechless with fury and outrage, the Professor was made to follow after them, for he dared not protest lest the Princess of Thandar be made to suffer for his recalcitrance.
Obviously, it had occurred to the wily Xask that, even if Eric Carstairs was not available to tea
ch the secrets of the thunder-weapon, the old man who had accompanied him into the world of might well be made to do so.
"Let none of you dare follow us, on peril to the life of your Princess," warned Xask.
Bitterly, and with grim forebodings, the men of Thandar and Sothar stood helplessly as the two captives were led away into the jungles.
"What will we say to Eric Carstairs, when he returns out of the hollow mountains?" groaned Erdon to his companions. "His heart will be filled with wrath when he discovers that we, who were charged with the protection of their safety, have permitted the old man, his friend and fellow countryman, and the gomad Darya to be taken from our midst . . . ."
"More to the point," growled a burly warrior named Warza, "how will we explain it to the Omad Tharn when he asks us what has become of his beloved daughter?"
"Far better than we pursue them with stealth and in secret, even if we fall in battle against those men than that we stand idly here, doing nothing," said one of the Sotharians, a fine chap called Parthon. "For the High Chief of my people, as well, will deal harshly with those who betrayed the trust which reposed in them. For it was Eric Carstairs who freed us from the slave pens, and led us forth out of the mountains; and it does not take a wise man to have noticed that Eric Carstairs looks with warmth upon the beautiful gomad of Thandar, and would win her for his mate."
"What shall we do?" queried Coph. "If the warriors pursue the two men into the jungle, they will leave defenseless the women and children of Sothar."
At that word, Nian, the mate of Garth, and young Yualla, her daughter, spoke up indignantly.
"Are the women of Sothar so helpless that they cannot defend themselves?" demanded Nian, her splendid eyes flashing. "Are our bowels weak with fear at the thought of holding axe or spear or bow?"
"Let the warriors enter the jungles, and do all that can be done to set our friends free of their cowardly captors," cried Yualla fiercely. "And in their absence, the women and children and the old people of Sothar will protect themselves with vigilance and courage-go!"
Without a word the nine warriors left behind to guard the encampment seized up their weapons and vanished into the edge of the jungle without a backward glance.
Having washed the filth and slime of the burrows from my body, I was resting near the conduit when my lieutenants, Jorn and Varak, came up to me, saluting.
"All has been accomplished as you desired, my chieftain," said the young Hunter. "The slave pens of the Gorpaks have given up their captives, who even now are being fed and their hurts tended. But we have been followed hence by these whom my chiftain sees at our heels . . . ."
He gestured, rather helplessly. I turned to see a number of the naked cavern folk lurking timidly at the entrance to this particular corridor. They seemed shy and confused, and furtively averted their eyes from the Gorpak corpse or two which lay about the floor. The dead Gorpaks seemed to shock them, and more than a few looked faintly scandalized.
I groaned; sooner or later, someone must deal with the folk of the caverns. It was just that, right then, I didn't quite feel up to it. But there was nobody else around to do the job but me.
During our excursion into the cavern city, the listless ones had stayed well out of our way. Although it must have scared the wits out of them to see people actually fighting and killing the precious Gorpaks, they were too timid and too lacking in any of the powers of will or decision to oppose us or even get in our path. Nor did they come to the aid of the Gorpaks. They just ran away and hid, although many of them tried to go about their ordinary routines and tasks as if the battle weren't roaring and rampaging all around them.
I got to my feet and went over to where they huddled. They eyed me shyly; I looked them over and saw that they were not so much fearful as perplexed. Fear was something they had lived with all their lives-fear of the Gorpaks, fear of the whips, fear of the Sluagghs. I could understand that fear; by now it was bred into them. They woke with it, slept with it, ate it with lunch, copulated (joylessly) with it ever at their side, and died with it near at hand.
But perplexity was something new to their experience. Their lives had been things of orderly routine up until now. Everything they did they had been told to do. They had never felt doubt, for every factor in their miserable, pallid lives was laid out and prescribed by the Gorpaks. And now the Gorpaks were dead, all of them.
They didn't know what to do. By invading the sanctity of the subterranean realm of the Sluagghs, by decimating the Gorpaks, we had turned their entire orderly little world upside down and shaken it briskly. For such as the zombie-like cavern folk, the universe itself had been transformed into a new and mysterious system, whose laws and regulations they did not comprehend.
I tried explaining to them what had occurred, but I could see from their faces that it was no good. Too many shocks, too many new things, and they would go into catatonia or something.
In the end, I did it the simple way. The way I knew they would understand.
"Attention!" I barked in my best parade-ground voice. "The Gorpaks have sinned against the Lords. The Lords have decreed the destruction of the Gorpaks. The Lords have decreed that we, the Ones-Who-Cover-Their-Bodies-and-Bear-Weapons, shall replace the Gorpaks. We are your masters now, and you shall obey us in all things. Is that understood?"
One of the males took it upon himself to nod tentatively. Since all I was getting from the rest of the lot was glaze-eyed, slack-jawed mystification, I singled this particular fellow out of the crowd.
"You!" I snapped, pointing. "What are you called?"
"The Gorpaks always called me Hoom, master," he said timidly.
I nodded importantly. "Very well, Hoom. From this moment you are appointed to the following tasks.
You will see to it that all of the rest of your people are instructed in what I have just told you about the sin of the Gorpaks, their destruction, and ourselves being appointed by the Lords to be your new masters. Do you understand?"
He nodded hesitantly. "I think so, master."
"Very good! Now, here are further orders for you all. They are to be obeyed to the letter, even when we, your masters, are not present to enforce them. Food is to be prepared as food has always been prepared, and gathered as food has always been gathered. Only from now on it is your people, Hoom, who shall see to the preparing of the meals and their distribution, and the tending of the fires. For the Gorpaks no longer are here to perform these tasks. And we, your new masters, will be away for some time on business of the Lords."
I thought for a minute, then added:
"From those storerooms where the clothing of the Gorpaks is kept, you and your people will fashion new garments for yourselves. With these garments, you will cover your loins, even as your masters cover theirs. This rule is to include your mates as well as yourselves. This is a particular sign of the favor you now enjoy under your new masters, and a sign that you have won favor in the eyes of the Lords-"
He blanched and his lips trembled. And I suddenly realized that, in the peculiar parlance of the cavern city, the favor of the Lords is to permit such as Hoom to supply them the nutriment of their life blood.
Hastily, I covered myself.
"As another sign of the favor of the Lords, you and all of your people are permanently excused from serving the Lords at the Feastings," I proclaimed.
Well, it would have done your heart good to have seen their faces. Cowed and broken in spirit as they were, these men were still men and the women still women. Eyes brightened in disbelief, and bowed shoulders straightened a little. I saw one mother clutch her young daughter to her and-actually, although tremulously-smile.
"The Lords have gone away for a long time. They will still be gone many, many wakes and sleeps after you and your people have died of old age, and your children have grown to adulthood. In fact, the Lords will never return again."
That seemed to clinch it. Hoom stood taller than I had yet seen one of the cavern peop
le stand, and there was something in his eyes I had never before seen.
"It is . . . true, master, what you say?" he whispered-and instantly cringed, anticipating that I would strike him for daring to doubt the truth of my words.
Instead, I smiled. And looked him straight in the eye.
"It is true, Hoom. I swear it by the Lords themselves. They have all gone away to a far, far place. And from that far place they will never, never return. All of this city they entrust to you and your people, through us, your new masters. But we are soon going away ourselves, and you and those whom you select to give the orders must now tend to the needs of the city without recourse to your masters. Go, now, and tell your people what I have said."
And he went, slowly and hesitantly, but with his back straight and his head up, followed by the others, who cast us timid backward glances, whispering among themselves, still not quite able to believe the miracle of their freedom.
I felt very tired.
I also felt like crying.
Chapter 24. A TIMELY INTERRUPTION
As Xask and Fumio led Darya through the brush, the jungle girl was thinking furiously to herself. To be so briefly reunited with her friend, Eric Carstairs, for whom certain strange feelings were burgeoning within her breast-feelings she could not quite put a name to-and, for an even briefer span of time, to be united again with her mighty sire and her fellow countrymen was too cruel to be endured without protest and revolt.
There seemed little that the savage girl could do to fight her captors. While Xask was small and slender and no fighting man from the look of his smooth face and puny limbs, Fumio was a mighty warrior and possessed twice the strength of her slim, lithe body. But Darya was coldly determined not to yield supinely to her present circumstances. The problem was-what could she do to circumvent them?
I have said it before but I will repeat it once again: the women of the Cro-Magnon tribes were no soft, pampered playthings. Many of them could run and hunt and fight nearly as well as a man. Life in this primitive subterranean world was hard and cruel; danger lay to every side in the form of savage beasts, hostile tribes, and nature herself, with all her storms and famines, earthquakes and pestilences.
