Hurok Of The Stone Age

by Lin Carter

  The one redeeming factor was that, somehow, miraculously, Garth had survived the assassin's blade.

  The sharp knife had missed the mighty heart of the jungle monarch by a hair's-breadth, but it had missed it and the great artery, too.

  But Garth lay on the very threshold of death, and he could not be moved. With hands as steady as those of a surgeon, Professor Potter gently withdrew the blade of the dagger from Garth's chest. Nian, the monarch's mate, stanched the flow of blood with tender care. The wound was packed with healing herbs, and bound tight.

  There remained a chance that Garth would live, but only a chance. In time, perhaps, his body would heal itself. He was a magnificent physical specimen, with the vigor and stamina of two men packed into his powerful frame, and, although a man of middle age by the standards of the cavemen, a strong man in the full noontide of his prime.

  For the moment, the tribe of Sothar must be led by the will of the chieftains. For Garth had left no son to succeed him to the Omadship, only a daughter, the lost Yualla, whom we all believed to be dead somewhere in the mountains.

  "We cannot remain here," argued Parthon. "There is no source of water, and no trees from which to fashion huts to protect us from the elements."

  "We could withdraw to the south, where the jungle stands at the end of the plains," suggested Varak.

  "There we would no longer be at the mercy of wind and rain."

  "And be at the mercy of the first prowling grymp or drunth or vandar that comes along," sniffed the Professor, who always liked to put in his two cents.

  "We could move into the foothills and perhaps find caves there," suggested one of the chieftains, a warrior named Thorg.

  "And be all the closer to Zar," I pointed out. "And closer to its vengeful queen."

  My friend Gundar of Gorad nodded grimly. "The Divine Zarys in her unappeased wrath will mount another expedition against those who defeated and disgraced her," he promised. "I have been longer in the Scarlet City than have you, Eric Carstairs, and I understand the folk thereof more completely. The Witch Queen will never rest until she has dealt out fitting punishment to us all ...."

  "Pooh!" scoffed the Professor, brandishing the circlet which he had retrieved from the brows of Garth.

  "If she sends thodars against us, we shall fend them off as before, with this!"

  "And if she sends an army?" inquired Hurok in his heavy, deep tones. The Professor flinched and wilted.

  "The legions of Zar are not to be despised," said Thon of Numitor, for once without his cheerfulness.

  "I think the wisest thing to do would be to go back across the plains again and try to get together with the tribe of Thandar," I said. "That way, we can put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the Dragonmen and double our fighting strength, if it comes to fighting . . . ."

  "How soon can the Omad safely be moved?" inquired Gundar of Numitor of the Professor. The elderly scientist shrugged, then pursed his lips thoughtfully.

  "Our friend Garth is a very strong man, brimming with superb health," he mused. "Holy Hippocrates, but I should say-if he continues to rest and mend-within six or seven sleeps. Then we might bear him, very slowly and carefully, in a litter. With frequent stops, of course."

  And so it was eventually decided.

  One week later, the host of Sothar decamped from the vicinity of the knoll and moved off slowly toward the northwest. There, across the width of the great plain, somewhere the tribe of Tharn of Thandar wandered, searching.

  There, somewhere beyond, on an unknown island amid the steamy waters of the Sogar-Jad, my lost Princess, Darya of Thandar, remained in captivity with the cruel Barbary Pirates.

  Would Garth survive the assassin's cowardly blow, and would we ever find Yualla or Jorn or my beloved Darya again?

  Only time would tell.

  I marched at the head of the host, my thoughts dark and my heart heavy. At my side went my new friends, laughing, lighthearted Thon of Numitor and huge, powerful Gundar of Gorad. At my back marched the faithful warriors who had come through so many perils to rescue me-Varak of Sothar, and Ragor and Erdon of the Thandarians, Warza and Parthon.

  And the best and chiefest friend I had yet made during all of my adventures in Zanthodon the Underground World-Hurok of Kor. He had become a leader of men during his search for me, and a chieftain of Cro-Magnon warriors. He had found within his loyal and faithful heart the courage and wisdom and leadership that one might not expect of a Neanderthal, perhaps.

  Sometimes, in dire adversity, men break. Other men, however, pass through the fire and emerge strong and tempered, like steel passing through a smith's forge.

  And thus had been the fate of my old friend and comrade-in-perils, Hurok of the Stone Age.

  THE END