Darya of The Bronze Age

by Lin Carter

  What mattered it to the Pirate Prince that he had been hurled from his princedom, and that unknown enemies were even at that moment storming through the crooked streets of El-Cazar? Let the faithless brigands snarl and snap like dogs over the kingdom that was falling to ruin about their heads-Kairadine would possess the body of the blonde cavegirl even if the world crumbled into ruin in the next instant!

  As he entered that suite in the harem of his palace in which the Cro-Magnon princess had been installed, it took but moments for the keen eye of the Redbeard to discern the mode and manner of her escape.

  Lifting out of its place and hurling into a corner the portion of the wooden screen which Darya had cut loose with her knife, Kairadine peered through the opening into the gardens. He had not realized that the wall which stood between this corner of the palace gardens and the street beyond was quite this conveniently close to Daryas window: the girl was lithe and agile, and for her to climb over the wall would have been but the act of a few moments. Doubtless she had stripped off the finery in which he had commanded that she be draped, donning simpler, more unobtrusive raiment . . . and, within the next moment, he discovered the heap of jewelry and clothing which the cavegirl had indeed tossed aside.

  Beyond, from the streets outside the window, there sounded the roar of battle, the clang of swords, the grunt and scuffle of struggling men, and the deep chanting war cries of the unknown savages. But Kairadine cared not a whit for this: his mind was fiercely bent upon repossessing the slim girl who had so narrowly escaped the consummation of his lust-and it was bent upon this to the exclusion of all other concerns.

  Vaulting over the windowsill, and ignoring the pang that lanced through the but newly knit muscles of his injured shoulder, Kairadine crossed the gardens and scaled the wall, dropping like a great cat to the cobbled street.

  The battle surged some blocks away, where giant blond warriors in fur clouts were assaulting the hasty barricade of broken furniture which the beleaguered corsairs had flung together to block the street against their advance. Darya would not have gone in that direction, surely ....

  The black mouth of an alley caught Kairadine's eye. Swallowed in that blackness, the girl could easily have eluded detection and pursuit, and could perhaps have hidden until such time as she could join her tribal brethren without risking her life in attempting to slip past the buccaneers' line.

  Kairadine strode into the black mouth of the alley, boots ringing upon the cobbles, his rapier naked in one brown fist, alert and wary for the slightest sign that his captive had fled in this direction.

  But he found nothing until something crunched beneath his heel. Peering down, he saw the glittering blade of a slim poniard. Stooping, he plucked it from the cobbles, turning it over in his fingers and examining it closely. The blade was of excellent steel, the hilt elegantly worked. This was no cheap blade to be carelessly lost in an alley, or tossed aside, but a fine piece of craftsmanship ....

  With a blade of this keeness, one could easily cut through a wooden window-screen ....

  Kairadine searched the dark walls of the alley and spied a stout wooden door. There was no telling where it led, and there was no particular reason for Kairadine to suspect that Darya had been carried through that door by Fumio or any other . . . but the cavegirl would not voluntarily have dropped her dagger, since it was probably the only means of self-defense she possessed.

  Kairadine Redbeard had the instincts of a hunter, and that keen intuitive sense impelled him to his next act.

  He slammed the door with his booted foot, just above the strong lock. Wood splintered; the doorframe shuddered, but the lock held.

  Then Redbeard kicked the door a second time and a third. The metal of the lock shattered beneath his vigorous assault, and Kairadine battered it in until it hung askew on torn hinges.

  Stone steps led down into unrelieved darkness, but a wallbracket held a tar-soaked torch. It was a matter of moments for the pirate prince to strike the torch afire with flint and steel.

  Holding his sword at the ready in one hand, lifting with the other the blazing torch so that it illuminated the steps, Kairadine Redbeard descended the stair. The torchlight glittered crimsonly on the naked steel of his polished blade.

  At the bottom of the stair-which was well below the level of the streets-the pirate prince found a narrow and winding subterranean passage, into which he flung himself with reckless speed, scenting the joy of the hunt.

  While lust dominated the heart of the Barbary Pirate, it did not dim the cunning of his intelligence.

  Mentally orienting himself, he soon realized that the secret passage extended in the direction of the mansion of his arch-rival, Yussef ben Ali, which stood near to his own palace. And the vengeful Redbeard swore bitterly to himself, for he detected the fine hand of Yussef in the apparent abduction of the woman he desired.

  "I should have throttled the dog when we fought," he snarled to himself. "But that pleasure I shall reserve for another time!"

  His cloak swinging from broad shoulders, the Barbary Pirate explored the secret passage to its end ....

  He found at length the concealed entrance through which Fumio and Zoraida had conducted Darya. If his estimate of the distance was at all accurate, he reasoned to himself, the passageway led directly beneath the basements of the house of Yussef ben Ali-proof that the rival captain was deeply implicated in the stealing away of Kairadine's prize captive.

  This door was locked, too, but repeated blows of the pirate's booted feet shattered it until the lock burst asunder. Kairadine snatched the wall-hanging aside and strode recklessly into the gloomy, vaultlike chamber.

  Walls of naked rock sweated with an oily moisture. A wooden stair in one corner led to a trap in the roof, whereby entrance could be gained into the cellars of the house of Yussef ben AIL

  Rapidly, the gaze of Kairadine Redbeard explored the hidden room, noting the long table, the empty wine goblets and the three chairs. By the light of his flickering torch, he explored the dark room-and discovered a mystery!

  Sprawled in a sodden heap in one corner of the room lay the body of a dead man.

  Prodding the corpse with the toe of his boot, Kairadine turned it over on its back so as to be able to discern its features by the light of his torch.

  It was Fumio....

  With narrowed eyes, Kairadine Redbeard studied the face of the dead slave, his mind churning furiously.

  He recognized the face of the blond Cro-Magnon from its flattened nose, recalling that the savage had been captured by Achmed and his seamen in the company of Darya of Thandar.

  Later, this same savage had been sold at public slave auction, Kairadine vaguely recollected. He knew this because at the time of their capture it had seemed likely to the Redbeard that the savage was a friend, brother or, perchance, a suitor of the jungle girl.

  Fumio, then, had assisted Darya in hiding, if not actually in her escape? Kairadine mused: on the surface of things, it was a logical assumption . . . but the pieces of the puzzle did not fit together.

  If Darya had an accomplice in making her escape, why did she throw aside the dagger which he had found in the alley?

  And who had murdered Fumio?

  Not Darya, obviously, for the caveman was dead from a sword thrust, and the cavegirl could have hardly have escaped from the palace armed with a sword and a dagger.

  And-where was Darya?

  He glanced over at the wooden stair. As secure as was this secret chamber, why should the girl have climbed it, ascending into the very house of one of the Captains of the Brotherhood?

  Spitting a curse, Kairadine prowled restlessly about, seeking another clue to this mystery, and giving no further thought to the murdered man.

  So perished Fumio, once a chieftain of Thandar high in the esteem of his peers, cut down to die like a dog in this stark and miserable underground chamber. . .

  Suddenly, Kairadine stiffened. A low, sobbing groan reached him
. It seemed to have come from the far corner of the stone-walled chamber, where the shadows lay thick as dust.

  He strode fearlessly across the room, to discover yet a second body, lying in a spreading pool of gore.

  And his heart froze within him as he saw it was the body of a woman-

  Chapter 18 JAIRA'S FLIGHT

  Jaira of Gorthak had not been this frightened since the day, not very long ago, when a host of howling Barbary Pirates had swept down upon the little village of her people, slaughtering many and enslaving, among others, her sweetheart Grond and herself. When she had entered into a life of captivity in the island fortress of El-Cazar, the beautiful cavegirl had wondered if ever she would see her native village of Gorthak again . . . and now, as she fled through the streets of El-Cazar, she wondered if ever she would see her beloved Grond once more.

  When the people of El-Cazar awoke to find their seemingly impregnable fortress city invaded by a horde of stalwart blond savages, it had quickly dawned upon the slaves in the house of Yussef ben Ali that the moment of their deliverance was at hand. Their master, the great captain, was absent from his mansion; gone, too, was his retinue of guardsmen. Only 'Dullah the majordomo stood between them and the freedom for which they had so long hungered.

  One man cannot adequately guard a house with as many doors as had the house of Yussef ben Ali. Thus the slaves found it easy to slip forth from this portal or that, seeking to join with the unknown force of Cro-Magnons storming the streets of the city.

  This Jaira of Gorthak was very young, very beautiful, slim as a willow and with a dancer's grace in her long, slender legs. Her hair was a thick, heavy mass of raw gold, seemingly too heavy to be supported comfortably by her slim neck and fragile shoulders. She had small, pointed, immature breasts and shy, fawnlike eyes. She was timid, was Jaira the Gorthakian, and far less bold and daring than are many of the women of the Cro-Magnon nations I have come to know. When she furtively stole forth into the streets by a little-used side door, she sought to find her lover, Grond, rather than to join in the fighting.

  Grond, she knew, was rumored to have been dispatched by their master, Yussef ben Ali, on a mission to admit these very fighting men into the bastions of the fortress city. Therefore, it seemed likely to the timid Jaira that, if Grond was to be found, he was unquestionably to be found among the blond warriors.

  The turmoil of the streets, the whirling battle, the surging to and fro of shouting, struggling men, frightened the young girl. As a band of wild-eyed corsairs came clumping down the way, glittering scimitars naked in their hands, she shrank fearfully into a doorway.

  The buccaneers had eyes only for their stalwart blond adversaries, however, and not for escaping slave girls, so they passed her by with scarcely a glance. Panting with relief, her heart pounding wildly, the girl slumped against the closed portal, bewildered, wondering how, in all this chaos of rioting men, she would ever find her lover . . . .

  Then it occurred to Jaira that, if Grond had been dispatched by Yussef ben Ali on a secret mission to confer with the leaders of the Thandarian host, he must logically be in the forefront of the battle, where those leaders were most likely to be found.

  As far as she could tell, the main thrust of the Bronze Age host was in -the direction of the palace citadel of Kfiradine Redbeard, which crowned the summit of the height upon which the city sprawled, and which was not very distant from the house of Yussef ben Ali.

  Furtively, the blonde girl stole in that direction, keeping hidden as well as she could and trying to avoid the knots of struggling, cursing men. She crept through an alley, finding herself near the wall which enclosed the gardens adjacent to the palace of Kairadine Redbeard. The invaders had already stormed the gates of the palace and seemed to be sacking it thoroughly, and the shy cavegirl did not dare expose herself to the brawling tumult which raged within the halls and suites of the palace . . . but she could safely hide in the gardens, if she could find a way to enter them.

  It was not for the fawnlike slavegirl to do as Darya had done much earlier, and boldly climb over the wall. So she crept along one side of it, casting fearful glances to every side, hoping to find an entrance.

  Before long she did indeed find one, a narrow opening whose door was a grille of wrought iron teased into graceful arabesques. It was through this little entrance that the merchants who provided the kitchens of Kairadine Redbeard made their entry in order to deliver viands for the monarch's table, although Jaira guessed it not.

  She unlatched the gate and slid through into the gardens-hastily latching the gate behind her, against the possibility of another band of intruders.

  Her heart beating as wildly against the cage of her ribs as ever a captive bird fluttered against its own cage, the girl glanced around, seeking a place in which to conceal herself until the proper moment arrived for her to seek out the leaders of the Thandarian host. She spied a little structure resembling a gazebo, which stood amidst a small grove of prehistoric cycads, girdled about with shoulder-high flowering bushes unknown to her. Therein could she hide herself, therefore the Cro-Magnon girl hastened to direct her steps in that direction.

  As she shouldered her way through the dark-leafed foliage-very suddenly and without the slightest warning-a powerful swarthy arm locked about her throat and a hard, callused palm was clapped over her mouth, blocking out the shriek of pure terror which rose instinctively to her lips.

  Tharn of Thandar stood upon the dais of the great hall of the palace of Kairadine Redbeard, harkening to the reports brought to him by scouts and messengers.

  "My Omad," reported one of these, a wiry long-legged lad called Doran, "the chieftains bade me inform you that the last pocket of resistance within the palace has been crushed."

  Tharn nodded somberly. The entire structure had been ransacked, without any sign of the whereabouts of Darya of Thandar, although many slaves and servants eagerly agreed that she had been imprisoned here by Kairadine Redbeard not long since.

  Another scout, this one a leathery-faced veteran, whose bright hair was dimmed by streaks of iron gray, came forward.

  "My Omad," said the older man, "all of the leaders have been accounted for, save for one Moustapha, who departed into the 'north' before our attack, Kairadine Redbeard himself-for such seems to be the name of him that carried off your daughter, the gomad Darya, and another warrior called Achmed the Moor, who was a powerful chieftain under the Redbeard. These last two are known to have escaped the slaughter and to be alive, for the palace slaves have viewed the corpses of the dead corsairs and are unanimous that this Kairadine and Achmed are not among their number."

  Again, Tharn nodded.

  "Set free the slaves, those of them that are of our own kind, and tell them that they are free to join with us or to strive to return to their own homelands, as they wish."

  The second messenger touched his brow by way of salute, and left. Tharn turned to two of his chieftains, who with him had led the assault on the palace.

  "How go things in the city proper?" he inquired.

  The first chieftain shrugged. "There is still much fighting in several quarters and certain areas are blockaded and are strongly defended. The buccaneers seem to have recovered from their confusion-for our coming, it seems, took them very much by surprise and completely unprepared-and are giving vigorous resistance."

  "I agree with Brogar, my Omad," interjected the second of the chieftains. "And would point out, if I may, that were the corsairs to find themselves a strong and determined leader, our position here could become untenable. Defeated though they were, they are very many and we are few."

  Tharn smiled grimly.

  "All of their captains are slain, save for Kairadine and this Moustapha who is far away, so I doubt me that any leader will come forward to assume the command. As well, the slaves and captives I have freed will greatly augment our number, and will fight with extreme courage and vigor so as to avenge themselves upon their former masters."


  "The Omad knows best," responded the other.

  "Let us hope so," said Tharn humorlessly. "Sometimes, I wonder. However, rifle the palace armory to arm the former slaves, and bid the warriors of Thandar seize up the edged weapons of metal with which the buccaneers so valiantly defended themselves. These weapons are called 'swords,' and hold a sharper

  edge than do our knives and spears of bronze. It is the wish of your Omad that every warrior arm himself with these weapons, and learn to care for them."

  "It shall be done," said the second chieftain. His name, by the way, was Rhak.

  "Where has Grond gotten to?" inquired Tharn the jungle monarch.

  Brogar smiled. "He has gone off to the house of Yussef ben Ali, Kairadine's rival, to find the woman he would make his mate."

  "I wish him well, for he is a good and brave man."

  "Has the Omad any further instructions?" inquired Rhak.

  "The Omad has. We have searched the palace for the gomad, to no avail. Release our captives, but disarm them. Then bid all of our warriors, and those of the former slaves who wish to join with us, to quit the premises."

  "It shall be done," said Rhak, and turned to follow the orders of his king. Tharn then regarded Brogar solemnly.

  "My Omad?"

  "Organize search parties. It is my intention to explore every portion of this island city until the gomad Darya has been found . . . alive or dead. See that this is done."

  Brogar saluted and left the hall.

  Tharn stood alone in the vast room, arms folded upon his massive chest, broodingly staring at nothing, with a frown of determination creasing his lofty brows.

  Chapter 19 DARYA'S RESCUE

  As has already been told, Grond the Gorthakian parted company with the warriors of Thandar just as soon as he could conveniently do so. Once the palace was securely taken and could be firmly held, the former slave of Yussef ben Ali had departed for the now-deserted mansion of his former master, so as to ascertain the safety and the whereabouts of his sweetheart, the girl Jaira.