by John Jakes
Through the rain, I heard halloos and alarms. The light had been glimpsed by more than just those of us quavering in Voluptua's quarters. As we watched, petrified with horror, the wellspring of the radiance dropped down into full view. I in turn dropped to my knees, making hasty repentance of all my sins.
"Dragon ship!" Conax bawled. "The same as stood by and watched my war craft founder! See its hell-bright eyes—?"
They seemed to me not eyes but peculiar ovoid lanterns, fixed to one end of the craft that lowered soundlessly toward the terrace, glowing in a penumbra of light. Tripod legs popped from its underbelly.
The phantasm was shaped somewhat like a hen's egg, with the running lanterns at the larger end. A peculiar spine-like affair protruded from its upper surface. A rippling, iridescent pattern seemed embedded in its silvery outer skin. The resemblance to a dragon's head was only superficial.
Was this one of the devices which had sped glowing through the heavens above the prison?
"Forward, you cowards, on penalty of death!" Lady Voluptua exclaimed. A handful of soldiers said their final prayers aloud, and charged the glowing artifact.
They whacked it with swords, jabbed it with spears, assaulted it with oaths of the strongest sort. For several moments this idle fray continued. Then, from the innards of the device, there issued a loud clacking.
A section of its patterned shell opened, falling outward and down like a trick door hinged at the bottom. From this opening there appeared an incline; to be more accurate, the incline appeared to grow out of the edge of the down-hanging door. When the incline touched the terrace, the clacking noise ceased.
The device continued to shed its unearthly radiance, illuminating the soldiers, who had given up their vain attack and were hurling themselves from the parapet or falling upon their own swords.
It is better testament to the inept leadership of fair Atlantis—I include General Pytho in a preeminent position!—that not one of the soldiers succeeded in dispatching himself.
All at once—wonder upon wonders—a being, or person, appeared in the opening in the lighted device. And I had seen its counterpart elsewhere!
The visitor touched a fur-clad toe to the incline. It then proceeded to glide down the steep, smooth slope without aid or falter. It wore a full-length cloak of glowing material. The cowl was thrown back. From the collar region there arose a largish head with inquisitive but not necessarily hostile eyes.
Those eyes were oversized, and elongated. Further, every exposed inch of the unnerving figure was blue!
I cannot begin to capture the tumult of the first moments of that encounter. Suffice it to say, every eye in Lady Voluptua's chamber was fixed upon the new arrivals. A second one had appeared, and was gliding down the incline while the first opened its mouth to taste the falling rain with a livid blue tongue. If it was annoyed, it gave no sign.
Three additional beings emerged. When all had negotiated the incline, they marched forward toward the row of braziers.
By this time, military reinforcements had arrived, taken stock of the situation, and were now huddled together in the corner, shield clanking and clinking against shield. The pack swelled—first a squad, then a platoon.
"Hell's holy harpies! I'll not be unmanned by a pack of flesh-curdling phantoms!"
With this announcement, mighty Conax ran to one of the braziers. Scattering coals willy-nilly, he hauled it up over his head and hurled it at the blue beings.
The foremost of these caught the brazier in two swiftly-raised, long-fingered hands. It bent the metal into a twist, then threw it away with the speed of a projectile.
I stoutly deny, as Conax later accused, that I let out a feminine scream. The scream issued from the other screen, which toppled over simultaneously with mine.
As I dashed for the chamber door, I saw coming at me with equal speed those who had been likewise hidden—General Pytho and Captain Num. The latter's weepings could be heard above all else.
"Oh, I'll never forgive you for enticing me into this horrid situation, General. And all in order to gain favor with that dirty old man! Watch out, whoever you are, or I'll scratch your eyes out!"
This last was directed at me. Num went whizzing by, his curly locks flying.
Due to his haste, he completely failed to recognize me. At once I guessed that the general and his plaything had bribed Swinnia and insinuated themselves behind the second screen, in order to spy upon Voluptua. No doubt they planned to report her loose behavior to the king. What some would not do in order to secure favor and advancement!
Another roar spun me around.
"Don't be a fool, Conax!" I exclaimed. "Leave those nightmares alone—"
Useless warning!
With an ululating howl, Conax the Chimerical rushed onto the terrace. Heedless of his personal safety, he began to box and batter the blue beings with his bare hands. Such a temper!
* Eight *
It must be said of Conax that he did not shrink from doing battle with the blue beings, even though they stood a head taller than he. Their considerable height was accentuated by their slenderness and, despite my state of consternation, I was struck by the composed way in which they received the barbarian's batterings.
He whacked them with his doubled fists. He leaped in the air and shot out one leg to deliver a stiff kick. He danced round them, uttering his ululating cry and gnashing his teeth. But he seemed neither to dismay nor harm the peculiar creatures.
"Fight, fight, what's the matter with you?" he protested, in a veritable fury of frustration. He crushed one of his big feet down upon the toe of a blue being. Even this produced no response.
They did react, however, when Conax attempted to gouge one's eye socket.
The blue being thus attacked seized Conax's thumb and bent it backward.
Conax dropped to his knees, grimacing. The gougee reached down, entwined blue fingers in Conax's locks, and, as if the Chimerical outlander were of a feather's weight, picked him up by the hair and threw him back in the room.
I leaped out of the way to avoid being struck. Lucky for Conax, cushions were available to break his fall, or he might have snapped his neck when he landed.
After wiping its fingers upon its garment—barbarians employ rendered fats as hair dressing, Conax had informed me—the attacked one signed to its mates. One by one, the blue beings ascended the incline.
All the foregoing transpired in but a fraction of the telling time. During the same interval, I discovered, Lady Voluptua had vanished entirely. So had the yellow-backed Captain Num. General Pytho, however, had remained, though he had positioned himself to the rear of the soldiers huddling behind their shield wall.
Stunned Conax reeled this way, then that, boxing empty air in the hope of finding an enemy. General Pytho ordered his minions to cast their spears. One fellow did so, just as the last of the blue beings ascended to its craft.
The spear sailed through the rain, and I felt certain it would strike with mortal force in the blue phantasm's backbone—if backbones they had!
But, as if warned by some internal sense, the creature turned.
Extending one hand, it caught the spear in mid-air. It drew the weapon up close to examine it. No expression readable by mortal men crossed its face. But from the way it ultimately cast the spear aside, it clearly considered the weapon harmless.
The blue creature vanished inside the glowing device. Clacking, the incline began to draw itself upward. Soon the outer shell was again unbroken.
I dashed to where Conax was still hopping and capering, and attempted to seize his arm—no mean feat! I earned a punch in the pate for my pains, and only captured his attention by hanging doggedly on one wrist.
"Kindly recover your senses, Conax! You're fighting empty air!"
I noticed that his eyes—bloodshot with barbaric fury—failed to focus.
"I'll teach them to humiliate a red ruffian of the north!"
"Calm yourself! And quickly!" I was all too aware of Genera
l Pytho peeping at me from behind the clump of soldiers. The assorted scars on his face purpled simultaneously. More trouble on the way!
"You, Vintner! Stand fast! Also your muscle-bound ally! From my position behind that fallen screen, I witnessed your pathetic attempt to curry favor. As commander-in-chief, I inform you that your ploy has failed. I intend to return you to the dungeon straightaway. Whether dead or breathing depends entirely on your attitude."
Conax looked at Pytho in a somewhat cross-eyed way. "What jerk-kneed jackal of hell yaps now—?"
"Our captor," I informed him. And then, because matters could in no wise become worse, I added, "I know back ways if we gain the streets. Let's cut for it!"
"Charge them! Surround them! Seize them!" Pytho screamed.
Before the cowed soldiers could obey, I grabbed cushions from the floor, throwing them with all my might.
Taking my cue, Conax got hold of another brazier. With a stout heave, he sailed it through the air.
The soldiers suffered a rain of pillows and hot coals. Then a sword sliced through one pillow, creating a veritable maelstrom of goose feathers.
Landing upon glowing coals, some of the feathers caught fire. Recoiling, all the soldiers shifted backward, squeezing General Pytho against the wall. From this awkward position he issued orders impotently.
Picking up the hem of my cloak, I cried, "Follow me, Conax!" and dashed away.
Racing through the room where I had met Voluptua earlier, I heard clamor from far and near. Gongs rang. Boots hammered. Men swore. Women shrieked. The entire female wing was in a state of insane disorder, even though a hasty glance backward showed the glowing craft already rising upward.
I plucked a plumed helmet from a fainted soldier. As General Pytho continued to call for pursuit, I blew out the last two lamps in the chamber, thrust the carved doors open and rushed through.
"Gods protect us!" I exclaimed. "The invaders are slaughtering everyone! General Pytho orders full retreat!"
Per my plan, the two eunuchs only caught a glimpse of my helmet as I whizzed past them with all possible speed. Burly Conax was right on my heels. We had gone about half the distance to the winding stair before the eunuchs realized there was something amiss with a soldier whose uniform consisted of a helmet and common robe.
Their frenzied yells merely added to the din.
We'd gone but part way down the stair when we encountered another squad of armed men coming up.
Two carried firebrands. I politely pointed the way.
"Hurry, General Pytho has his back to the wall!"
"Forward, men, to the relief of our beloved leader!"
As they rushed up, we rushed down.
Soon, negotiating the last flight, we reached the courtyard. More soldiers ran to and fro. Some bore torches. All demanded to know what was happening. For good reason: the female wing gave off the sounds of a battlefield. Oaths. Commands. Countercommands, crashes, and additional ringing gongs. Over all, a flashing speck, the ascending dragon craft diminished in size.
Even as I watched, it reached its apex, zipped to the right, and disappeared behind scudding rain clouds.
"How do we get back to the dungeons, Hoptor?"
"For a king, you're certainly not the brightest. Naturally we're not going back to the dungeons!"
"By Crok, your logic eludes me. Did we not agree, in those slime-ridden depths, to seek release of the girl and that old prattler? How can we ignore such a vow without besmirching our honor?"
"See here, Conax. We can be far more useful in effecting the rescue if we operate outside the palace confines." As I spoke, I tugged him toward a courtyard gate. Happily, we were all but ignored by the confused, hallooing soldiery.
"The minds of you soft-bellied southerners are certainly confounding," he remarked.
"I appreciate your views. But just remember the slogan is, when in Atlantis, do as the Atlanteans do. Look sharp now! We still have those nasties by the gate to deal with."
I referred to two guards stationed in a booth. Though obviously alarmed by the noise and heavenly lights, they had not as yet deserted their posts. And the area round their booth was brightly lit, thanks to a wormwood torch in a wall socket.
"Here, you look more like a soldier than I do. Put this on and run ahead of me."
So saying, I shoved the helmet down on Conax's head. He complained bitterly about the earpieces gouging his temples.
We closed the distance to the booth. While we were still outside the perimeter of the torchlight, I bellowed:
"Quick, all troops to the female wing! General Pytho's order—the situation's desperate!"
As I pulled Conax to a halt, the guards fingered their hilts uncertainly.
"Hail, soldier!" said the foremost, eyeing Conax's mighty muscles. "Do you know you're out of uniform?"
"He knows it, he knows it," I responded. "His breastplates were torn off by the very enemy now pressing General Pytho to a last stand."
While saying this, I unsocketed the torch and thrust it into the soldier's hand.
"I too had my armor ripped away, I was forced to cover my shame with the first available garment. Make haste—and prepare to die gloriously. Those are direct orders from the general!"
They rushed off. But alas, they only went a short distance before stopping.
They turned back scrutinizing Conax and myself—with obvious suspicion!
I tugged frantically on the gate-rope while the pair continued conversing. The gate squealed up and I caught a whiff of street garbage—o precious exhalation of Atlantean freedom!
The guards flourished their swords, shouting, "Stand fast, there! In the name of Geriasticus—!"
"This way!" I shrieked, virtually jerking Conax off his feet.
Thus we pelted out of the palace enclosure, the two guards raising hue and cry not far behind.
We flashed up circuitous streets and down paved avenues. From time to time it seemed as if we had outdistanced our pursuers. Then a glint of lanterns and a flare of firebrands indicated otherwise. They were still coming on, in even larger numbers than before.
The streets were all but abandoned. The rain, though slacked to a drizzle, kept all but the most hardy or criminous indoors. Thus, while our flight was unimpeded, my own bulk proved our greatest handicap.
My progress grew less fleet each moment. My chest darted with the pains of overexertion. But somehow I kept on.
At length, having dodged the hounds for almost an hour, we found ourselves within a block of my villa. From a second story apartment balcony to which we'd clambered, we observed that a contingent of military had already arrived.
Soldiers milled at my front door. Others made free with the interior, if I could judge from the shouts issuing therefrom. Talk about lack of respect for property!
"Well," I panted, "refuge in my home is out. Let us think—"
"While you do so, I'm going to sit on this rail and rest. Even I, accustomed to trailing brigands, mercenary invaders, and magically propelled imps for hours on end, am somehow wearied by this banging around in the dark."
"Not half so wearied as—'ware that flowerpot—!"
Too late! The pot crashed into the street.
Inside, the owner of the apartment fired a lamp.
"Robbers, robbers! Under the beds or we'll be murdered!"
Alas, sharp-eared soldiers had heard the pot shatter. And none could help hearing the apartment owner's outcries. The soldiers swarmed toward us in the street. That left only the apartment.
I crashed through the hangings, Conax at heel, and came face to face with an old fellow in a night-stocking.
Putting on a fearsome face, I shrieked, "Your zebs or your life!"
Dropping his lamp, he fainted.
We blundered around an assortment of furniture, raced down a smelly stair reeking of supper cabbage, and escaped via the decayed structure's back door.
"Rotten Row," I gasped. "Follow me!"
But it soon appeared that we might
not reach our goal. My steps and those of Conax were flagging badly. Moreover, the soldiers seemed to be everywhere at once, squads of them, companies of them, hallooing, waving lights, and cuffing anyone who crossed their path.
Entering one street, for example, we were forced to retreat hastily on sight of a squad marching toward us. Stumbling down an alley, we glimpsed a similar contingent ahead. We rushed through the first floor of an adjacent building, and into the street beyond, while I grew concerned about the scope of General Pytho's pique. That he would devote such effort in pursuit of my insignificant, harmless person did not augur well. It was also further evidence of the wrongful priorities of the Island Kingdom's leadership!
"We'll never escape at this rate," Conax puffed. "There's armor everywhere!"
"Pray what (gasp) do you suggest?"
"Well, I'd as lief halt and make my death-stand, taking a dozen of the snapping dogs with me to the nether regions. In fact—" He planted his great feet in place. "I believe I will."
"Are you out of your barbaric mind? What if they don't kill you, but overcome you? Do you want to go back to the dungeon?"
"Come to think of it, I believe we should. As I announced earlier, I don't feel quite right leaving the others locked up while we run around all over the city. Not that I have any special attachment for the soothsayer and your baggage. But we did include them in our plans—"
"And we'll rescue them yet! Unless you persist in engaging in philosophic hairsplittings about worthless commodities such as honor, in which case we'll surely be caught."
"But flight is profitless, Hoptor! See that sign over there?"
He directed my attention to a hanging board. It fronted the shuttered shop of one Pittos, the Fig Vendor.
"We have already passed that sign four times. You're simply running around in circles!"
"I am trying to locate a hiding place on Rotten Row!"
"It appears you can't even locate Rotten Row itself."
"Conax, will you please—oh-oh. Another military mob, just a block off. They've spotted us! Now you've done it—!"