by Alex Raymond
It was a small bent man who spoke to Flash across the jungle pool. He wore a simple mud-colored tunic laced with leather strings, rough-spun tights and low boots of soft hide. His hair was long and unkempt, speckled with gray. Several of his lower front teeth were missing. “You are an outlander,” he observed in his harsh raspy voice, “as was the girl.”
Flash, keeping his light shining on the man, circled the pool. There didn’t seem to be anyone else lurking in the woods. “You saw the girl?”
“Oh, yes,” replied the bent man. “Saw her as clear as I’m seeing you now. Nay, clearer since it was still day. A pretty girl, with dark hair. Too pretty, that’s the trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, outlander, that is why they took her.”
Stopping a few feet from the man Flash asked, “Who was it that took her?”
“The Royal Police it was.” He rubbed at his sharp chin. “Tied her up and carried her off on his saddle, did the captain of police.”
“She was arrested?”
The bent man gave a dry wheezing laugh. “Too pretty for that, didn’t I tell you. No, outlander, they took her to the capital. You see, our emperor is always interested in pretty young girls and many’s the maiden who’s been dragged away to the Imperial Palace.”
“You’re talking about the Emperor Ming?”
“Aye, Ming, ruler of the Dozen Territories,” he said. “And soon, if he carries out all his plans, ruler of all the planet.”
“How long ago did they take her?”
“There is no chance to catch them,” said the bent man, “should that be what you’re thinking of. True they were on horseback, the two Royal Police who took her. By now, though, they have placed her aboard a flying ship and flown her to Ming’s palace.”
“How far from here is the capital city?”
“Three hundred miles.”
“Where can I arrange to fly there?”
The bent man’s rasping laugh was louder this time. “Would you end your life hanging from one of these trees, outlander?” he replied.
“You mean the use of airships is forbidden, too?”
“To all save the Royal Police and those in the emperor’s inner circle,” the bent man explained. “If you would journey to the capital, however, I can show you the best route to take. My name is Harn, and I ofttimes serve as a guide.”
Flash decided that he wouldn’t go back and follow the trail of Dr. Zarkov, not now at any rate. The burly scientist was capable of taking care of himself for a while. It was Dale he must find, as soon as possible. “Very well,” he told Harn, “I’ll accept your offer.”
“My usual fee, outlander, is five mingots a day.”
“I have none of your local money.”
Eyeing the pack strapped to the tall man’s back, Harn said, “Perhaps you have some goods, some objects of value from your own land which can be exchanged for coins. There is an inn not far from here, the Heart & Arrow, and the innkeeper is a longtime friend of mine. He, even in these lean times, usually has a supply of ready cash to pay out for certain marketable items.”
After studying the man’s lean wrinkled face for a few seconds, Flash said, “All right, the Heart & Arrow it is.”
A thick mist was spreading through the trees, streaking the dark with gray. The night sounds were muffled, dimmed. “Is there water close by?” Flash asked his guide.
“Aye,” replied Harn, “we are but a mile or so from the Great River.” He was walking a few feet ahead of Flash.
“Can I follow the river to the capital?”
“Perhaps. Do not fear, outlander, I will see you reach the destination you seek,” promised the bent man. “The Heart & Arrow Inn sits beside the river and when we reach it, I will help you chart your course.”
The river fog was chill. It was rolling in more rapidly now, filling the spaces between the giant tree trunks, covering the mossy ground.
“You were indeed lucky,” said Harn after a moment, “that I encountered you this night. Very few dare venture through this jungle once darkness has fallen.”
“Why is that—is it haunted?”
“Jest if you will, outlander, but—” The guide stopped still. “We must hurry,” he said after a few seconds of nervous listening.
“What is it?”
Harn began trotting along the narrow trail they’d been following. “The night brings many dangers with it,” he said over his shoulder.
From off to their right came a loud thrashing.
“Which particular danger are we running from?”
“It sounded to my ears very much like a salamander.”
“A salamander? Why are . . . ?”
The crashing and crackling was echoed up ahead of them. Then Flash saw one of the creatures. It was nine feet long, a muddy green with splotches of yellow running along its thick glistening body. It opened its wide mouth and Flash saw it was unlike any of the tiny salamanders he was familiar with in ways other than size. It had large snake-like fangs.
With a few more lumbering steps of its four squatty feet, the giant salamander blocked their path completely.
CHAPTER 5
Zarkov was grumbling. His broad back was pressed against the black rock wall of a vast cavern and he was complaining. “It must be evening by now,” he boomed. “I have an excellent time sense, I’m not usually wrong. It’s evening and that’s another meal missed.” He made an attempt to scratch his ample beard, but the leather cords which bound his wrists prevented him from doing an adequate job.
Several yards across the black cave, a small fire burned, sending sooty smoke up to vanish in the thick shadows. Seated near the fire were three lean men, wearing hooded robes and sandals.
“I’ve been in captivity on six planets, four satellites, and one lesser moon,” continued the bearded scientist in his big voice. “They always made a point of feeding me, especially on Jupiter where they were fattening me up for an impending cannibal feast, which fortunately—”
“You must be patient.” One of the robed men stood to face the trussed Zarkov. “These are difficult times on Mongo. Many people do not eat at all. It is especially difficult for us, who are sorcerers and therefore—”
“If you were any kind of sorcerers, you’d magic up a meal.”
“Wait until our leader arrives. We will see to all your needs then,” promised the hooded sorcerer.
Zarkov had been a prisoner several hours. His flying safety belt had worked perfectly after a brief initial period of uncontrolled plummeting. He had drifted down through the bright day. The controls functioned well and he had been able to aim himself at the road he saw below.
“Look at the size of that linaria canadensis,” he remarked as he made a bouncing, dust-raising landing on the jungle roadway. The weeds, giant yet delicate, rose up to heights of five and six feet.
Fists on hips, Zarkov surveyed his landing place. “Fascinating,” he decided. “Exactly what I expected.”
Loosening the flying belt, he shoved one big hand into a pocket of his worksuit and brought out a carob-coated protein square. He was about to pop it into his mouth when he heard something.
A very small sound, but he was certain it had been made by a foot stepping on a dry twig.
Scratching at his bushy beard, Zarkov strode across the road to peer into the high forest. “I’ve had all kinds of receptions in my forty-odd years,” he said to himself, “and, usually, the ones who come sneaking and pussyfooting mean you the least good.”
Someone dropped down on his back from the trees above. An arm circled his thick neck, tightening.
“What’s this?” roared Zarkov. He swung a fist back, feeling it connect with a nose.
“Nay, Brother Igon, don’t damage his brain,” cautioned a voice from out of the brush. “We need his impressive intellect.”
From the corner of his eye, Zarkov got a glimpse of the man riding his back, and of a metal rod poised to strike. Zarkov dropped backwards, slamming
the man into the trunk of a tree.
The man barked out his breath and let go.
The doctor took a step clear but was jumped by two other men. Each was tall and powerful, wearing a hooded robe.
Zarkov got rid of one with a slashing uppercut. The other hooded man held tight.
“This will cause too much damage to us all,” said the one called Brother Igon. “Use the flask on him, Brother Beltor.”
A cork popped, green fumes spilled into Zarkov’s face. He gave one more angry bellow before falling forward into a bush thick with spikey branches.
He had awakened, thoroughly tied at wrist and ankle, in this huge black-walled cave.
Now catching the attention of the one called Brother Beltor, Dr. Zarkov said, “Let me ask you something which has nothing to do with food. When you three grabbed me, something was said about my intelligence, my intellect. Granted I’m one of the more brilliant men in the universe, still it’s certain my reputation doesn’t extend to Mongo.”
“That is true, Dr. Zarkov,” replied Brother Beltor. “We believe one with your mental capacities can do much to aid the sorcerers’ cause.”
“But how did you know for sure I had such mental capacities?”
The lean sorcerer spread out his hands. “We read your mind,” he said simply.
CHAPTER 6
Dale had landed about five minutes before Zarkov, and some ten miles to the East.
Her flying belt had functioned well, carrying her gently down and away from the stricken survey ship. She’d looked up at it for the first minute of her drop, watching it roar away from her, hoping Flash would be able to save the ship. She was concerned about him, but she knew he was capable of surviving even if the craft did crash.
Dale concentrated on controlling her descent. She saw thick jungle stretched out below her in all directions. When she’d dropped another thousand feet she saw a road cutting through the trees and brush, and immediately off the road a circle of clearing with a pool at its center.
“As good a place as any to land.”
The dark-haired girl misjudged her course slightly. At the last moment she had to make some hurried corrections on the control buckle to avoid landing in the trees. As it was, she hit into a palm tree at the pool edge, did a wobbly spin in midair and landed with one foot bent beneath her.
“Darn, feels like a sprain.” Wincing she turned off the belt, pushed down on the mossy ground with her hands. “No, it’s only a bad twist.” She found she was still able to walk, though it was painful.
Hoofbeats sounded out on the road, dust came spinning across the clearing, skimming the wide pool.
“Look what’s dropped out of the trees, Alex,” said the first horseman as he reigned in. He was a large, chunky man, bearded and wearing a black cloak trimmed in gold. On his head was a gold helmet with a scarlet plume fluttering from its crown. Through an opening in the dark cloak, a breastplate of gold armor showed.
“Lovely.” Alex was not quite as chunky as his companion, and his gold helmet was plumeless. “A very lovely find, Captain. One hardly expects to come across such a prize in this desolate stretch of the kingdom.”
“And was it not you, Alex, who wanted to meet our flying ship further up the river?” The captain laughed, still watching the dark-haired Dale. “Had we taken that course of action, we would have missed this maiden, who will surely be worth a commendation from the emperor himself.”
“Perhaps even a promotion for you, Captain.”
Dale took an unsteady step ahead. “Who are you?”
The captain, laughing, touched his gloved hand to his gold helmet. “I am Captain Hakes of the Royal Police, at your service, my girl. Accompanying me is my trusted lieutenant, Alex.”
Alex, gloved hands on the pommel of his saddle, leaned in the direction of the girl. “You are not from this territory,” he said, “Where are you from?”
“I’m part of an exploration team,” Dale answered, moving her hand slowly toward the control panel of her flying belt. “We come, originally, from a planet called Earth.”
“We?” asked the chunky captain. “Where are the others?”
“There was some trouble with our ship. We had to jump.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Three.”
“All, as yourself, young girls?”
“No, I’m the only woman on the team.”
“Where are the others likely to land?”
Dale hesitated. “I’m not certain.”
“Not nearby, apparently,” remarked Alex.
“You are indeed fortunate,” Captain Hakes told Dale, “to have come under the protection of the Royal Police. Being unfamiliar with our kingdom you do not realize what a dangerous and untamed area you find yourself in. Come along with us now, my girl.”
Dale shook her head. “I have to wait for the others,” she said. “Here.”
“Nonsense. You’ll be much more comfortable in the capital,” the captain said. “Emperor Ming, by the way, is a man of considerable learning himself. He will be most anxious to talk to you and your friends.”
“Particularly you,” added Alex, chuckling.
“That sounds very nice,” said Dale. “When my friends arrive here at this rendezvous spot, we’ll all be happy to accept your invitation.”
“No need to wait,” insisted the captain. “We can make arrangements for your associates to be met.”
“I’d prefer to wait.”
Captain Hakes nodded at his lieutenant. “Alex, persuade the young lady to accompany us.”
Dale jabbed the rise button on her flying belt.
Captain Hakes swung from his saddle, gave a tremendous leap.
He caught hold of Dale’s legs before she had lifted more than four feet off the ground. The two of them hung suspended, neither rising nor falling, swaying in the air.
With a clenched fist, the captain reached up and slammed at the controls.
The belt made a sputtering sound. They both dropped to the ground.
Captain Hakes stood up and away from the fallen girl. “I’d advise you to accept our invitation without any further delay,” he told her.
CHAPTER 7
Harn, Flash’s guide, cried out in fright, “They will devour us!”
Palm fronds, broken branches, leaves scattered down on them as a second gigantic salamander came thrashing onto the trail.
“This way,” said Flash. Escape was still possible to their left.
The bent man took several unsteady steps back from the fanged salamander which cut off their further progress. He gave a frightened look to his side. As he turned to run in the direction Flash had indicated, his foot caught in a twist of shaggy vine.
“I am undone,” he cried as he went sprawling across the trail.
The second salamander lowered its head toward the fallen man.
“Ease yourself along flat on the ground,” advised Flash. “You can crawl over here.”
“My life is at its end, outlander,” said Harn, “for I cannot seem to disentangle my foot.”
The salamander’s head was three feet above the struggling Harn. Its mouth gaped open, showing the curved fangs and a huge split tongue.
Flash reached beneath his tunic. With his blaster pistol in his hand, he took two steps forward. “Keep your head down,” he warned Harn.
The pistol sent a sizzling shot at the attacking salamander. There was a faint hollow explosive sound and the head of the giant creature turned to charred dust.
“A miracle,” exclaimed Harn. “Great and powerful wizardry!”
The headless salamander thrashed and writhed, crashing into tree trunks and trampling brush. Then it fell dead.
Harn rose up gingerly, tugged his trapped foot clear of the thick twist of vine. “His mate fears us now,” he said, laughing his dry laugh.
The other enormous salamander had moved away from them, returning to the safety of the jungle.
After a glance around, Flash put his pis
tol away in his waistband. “Let’s get going again, then.”
Harn came closer to him. “That is indeed a powerful weapon, outlander,” he said in a whispering voice. “Much more powerful than anything the Royal Police possess.” He pointed at the tunic which concealed the gun. “You are wise to conceal it, for to be caught with such a weapon would mean certain death.”
“After a pretty good struggle.”
Nodding, the guide said, “You need not fear that I will betray you, outlander. For now I owe you my life and there is nothing Harn would not do for you.”
“Okay, then take me to the inn,” said Flash. “I want to get to the capital as soon as I can.”
The bleeding heart, pierced with a silver, arrow, showed through the swirling mist.
Harn cocked his head toward the hanging inn sign. “We have arrived safely,” he said to Flash. “All thanks to the gods that we did. Truly, had you not used your—”
“I don’t think,” Flash cut in, “it will be a good idea to talk about our meeting with the salamanders any further.”
“Aye,” agreed Harn. “You are absolutely right, outlander.” He began climbing the brick steps leading to the oaken door of the sprawling shingled inn. “For while you may trust Harn, there is no telling what others may do. All live in fear of Ming the Merciless in these times.”
Light and warmth spilled out of the opened doorway. The room they entered was large, with a beamed ceiling and a big stone fireplace. There were a dozen round wooden tables around the room, a long serving bar against the near wall.
Two wide men in dark tunics and hightop muddy boots sat at a table hunched over copper tankards of ale. One of the men wore a scarlet headband and had a single loop of silver dangling from his left ear.
There were no other patrons in the Heart & Arrow Inn. Behind the bar, giving most of his attention to tapping a fresh keg of ale, was the proprietor. He was fat, with a striped apron tied around his flabby waist. He wore a leather vest which concealed only part of his hairy ballooning torso. “Ah, good evening to you, Harn,” he said as he glanced their way.
