by Ernst Vlcek
Fratulon was purported to be incredibly wealthy, but there was no more proof of that supposition than there was for any of the other stories that were told about him. There were even some who maintained that he wasn’t an Arkonide, and considering his thickset and stubby figure this was not entirely unbelievable. But this only caused Fratulon to laugh to himself, and he would say nothing to the contrary.
His most curious possession was the sword he wore. It was short with a broad blade and a pommel that bore a strange carving on it. This figure appeared to be worked in silver, but even under the closest inspection its details could not be clearly made out. On the contrary, the more carefully one studied it the more indistinct its contours became.
I had myself fought with Skarg, as Fratulon called the weapon, but could discover nothing unusual about it other than the fact that it sat very well in my hand.
“It’s hot?” announced Ice Claw again.
Automatically, I regulated the airconditioning for him.
Before us lay the monotonous landscape of sand, still overshadowed by the endless web of silvery strands. But its aspect had changed in the meantime. A wind had come up and was driving dust devils and a haze of sand before it. The visibility lessened as the sun shone faintly through the dust clouds.
“The wind is increasing?” I announced concernedly. “I think it won’t be long before it turns into a sandstorm.”
“You could be right!” agreed Fratulon. “Whenever you feel like it I can relieve you at the controls.”
I was grateful for his offer. Not that I didn’t trust myself to guide the rover even through the storm. It was just that my powers of concentration were lagging somewhat after the long drive, and it might do me some good to relax a while.
I pulled the rover to a stop and got out in order to go around to the other side, but just as I did so the ground suddenly gave way under my feet. I strove to hang on to the tractor treads of the machine but had already sunk down up to my waist.
The crystalline face of Ice Claw appeared in the cockpit hatch. He leaned way out and downward toward me, stretching out his handlike talons. I hesitated, mindful of his capability of turning all organic matter to ice that he touched, but of course my fears were groundless because just now Ice Claw had his strange powers under control. Yet by the time I realized that, I had sunk deeper and could no longer reach his “hand”.
Suddenly there was a grinding and rumbling sound from below, and the dunerover sank on its side. The ground beneath me finally gave away and I dropped through a cloud of sand into the depths.
3/ IN THE LOST LABYRINTHS
Fratulon would soon mend the last chink in his armour, or test its strength once and for all.
Long ago when he had fled to Gortavor with the 4yearold manchild in his keeping, the intent behind it all was to raise Atlan until the time should come to help him regain his own right and station. The first few years had been the most difficult because Fratulon had stood alone against an overwhelmingly powerful enemy. It had been a long, hard struggle until he finally established himself on Gortavor to the point where he could offer Atlan a maximum degree of protection.
He became an influential personality on Gortavor. His position as personal physician to the Tatto, Armanck Declanter, had made him practically unassailable. A portion of his prestige and influence had been transmitted to his young ward, Atlan, whom he had presumably found in the wilderness of this world.
Fratulon’s camouflage was practically armour plated, with just one vulnerable spot: Atlan.
The youth’s childhood memories kept emerging in such multiple forms as dreams and thought associations. The questions he asked both as a child and a strapping youth maturing to manhood continued to create problems for Fratulon. But now the period of all these difficulties was drawing to an end—he had successfully withstood the burdens of it. He was glad that he would not have to maintain his silence much longer…
* * * *
I dropped onto soft sand, breaking the impact with the natural resiliency of my legs. But further masses of sand came down upon me and I threw my arms over my face for protection and in order to breathe as I staggered forward through the gritty debris into the cavern that lay before me.
From above came a grinding sound and as I looked up I saw the vast shadow of the dunerover settling further into the opening of the cavein. I knew I had to move onward to get out of the way because the weight of the vehicle was liable to cause a further collapse of the ceiling.
I finally got out of the zone of danger, but since my visibility was poor I ran blindly into an obstacle. It was a wall of molten sand that had cooled into a glasshard surface that bristled with countless sharp splinters. In the process, I cut my hand.
I heard another grating and crunching sound and knew that the rover was slipping through. It came down with a crash and wedged itself between the wall and the rubble. After everything had settled and only the howling of the storm outside was audible, I heard Fratulon calling.
“Atlan!”
“I’m down here?” I answered. “I think I’m all in one piece.”
“At least that’s something!” I heard him remark.
Immediately after that I saw a powerful shape come through a dimly lighted opening next to the semisuspended rover. For a moment the muscular short legs seemed to wriggle in the air; then the shadowy figure came down with a thud. Behind him came a slender, translucent shape: Ice Claw.
“What is this place?” asked the chretkor.
“I figure it’s some sort of underground hideout that could have been made by treasure hunters?” I answered, while carefully running my hands over the glassy sand wall. “It has every appearance of having been carved out with heat beam weapons.”
“No wonder the ceiling couldn’t support the weight of the rover,?” grumbled Fratulon. A pocket light flashed to life in his hand, and its powerful beam penetrated the vaulted excavation. “Now we’re in a fine mess. We won’t be able to retrieve that rover all by ourselves.”
I looked about in the cavern. Discounting the part that had caved in, it was still large enough to hold about 20 men. Fairly wide and elongated, it ended in a passage that turned to our left.
“At least we can wait out the storm down here?” commented Ice Claw, and he added with satisfaction: “Anyway, it’s pleasantly cool in here.”
“That sandstorm can go on all day?” retorted Fratulon irritably. “We haven’t got that much time. After all we aren’t out here on a picnic, you know. We’re trying to rescue some treasure hunters who’ve sent out a call for help.”
“But a dead sawbones isn’t going to do them much good, either?” I replied. “Don’t you think, Doc, that we ought to take a little breather? The sandstorm seems to have reached its peak. It would be suicide to set out into the Spider Desert under these conditions. You yourself have said that friction with the sand out there builds up a static charge on a person, which provides a conductor for the forces in the web strands over head.”
He stared at me in surprise. “You are aware of that?” he asked, wonderingly. “Of course you’re right, Atlan. We have to wait at least until the storm gets past its high point. Only then will it be possible to continue onward on foot.”
“Then let’s take a look around down here?” I suggested. I borrowed Fratulon’s flashlight and went to the end of the cave.
When I turned the beam of the flashlight into the narrow side passage I was disappointed to discover that it was only about 10 paces in extent, ending in another wall of solidified molten sand.
Fratulon appeared beside me. He shouldered past me and entered the tunnel which was so narrow that he almost grazed the walls with his shoulders. When he came to the end of it he drew his sword and struck the glazed surface several times with it. Several fistsized fragments splintered away from the wall.
Suddenly he leapt back nimbly, replaced his sword, and brought forth his raygun. At first his action was puzzling to me because his wide body blocked my view, but then I s
aw that cracks were appearing in the wall through which a mass of loose sand was pouring into the passage.
Fratulon fired a widespread energy beam at it. I thought he was merely trying to melt the sand and stop its flow, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. He simply vaporized it and melted his way in further. When he finally shut off his weapon I saw that he had made an opening that gave access to a cavern beyond. I aimed the flashlight beam through it and caught sight of a smooth floor and walls that were fashioned of some dullshining unknown material.
“Zagooth, the lost labyrinth?” muttered Fratulon.
I looked at him questioningly but he gave me no explanation. Without wasting any words, he thrust himself through the opening and slid over the pile of sandy rubble into the cave on the other side.
* * * *
This cavern was larger and lay deeper under the surface than the sandglazed hideout we had traversed in order to get here. Two separate passages, twice the height of a man and equally as wide, led off to the right and the left in exactly opposite directions.
“What does Zagooth mean?” I inquired of Fratulon. “I have never heard the name before.”
“I only learned about it myself for the first time a few years ago, from a treasure hunter?” he explained. “It’s long been known that the Spider Desert covers a subterranean maze of labyrinths, but so far only a few half buried fragments of it have been discovered. This dying treasure hunter asserted, however, that while investigating the secret of the deadly net of silvery strands he had come across charts of the original inhabitants here, and on that basis he had at least partially traced out the course of the labyrinths. But he couldn’t continue his explorations of them because he fell into the hands of the desert dwellers and barely managed to escape and get back to Tarkihl.”
“You never told me anything about that before?” I said in a slight tone of reproachfulness.
This elicited only a faint smile from him, almost as if he were trying to tell me there were far greater things than this he had remained silent about. I could even accept that, but was vexed by the fact that he couldn’t have confided in me concerning such a relatively minor item as this incident with the dying treasure hunter. Of course it could also be that he hadn’t considered it worth mentioning, since it was not unusual that adventurers in the Spider Desert should be attacked by Zagors and Ooths.
“I have it!” I cried out suddenly. “The word Zagooth is a composite made up from the names of the desert dwellers—Zagors, and Ooths. But why were the labyrinths named after them? After all, they were built by the original inhabitants.”
“But the Zagors and the Ooths live here?” declared Fratulon. He indicated the tunnel that led off to the right. “If we’re lucky, maybe the labyrinths here are not choked up for considerable distances, and we may be able to cover a good stretch of the way toward the Marauthanian ruins. Using the compass we can get our bearings and won’t have to be afraid of getting lost. Atlan, would you go back to the rover and fetch some of our gear? We only need the essentials—water and food for a day, the compass, and my firstaid kit.”
I clambered back over the sand heap and hurried through the first cavern to the cavein. The storm had blown in more sand, but the rover had not settled any deeper. I drew myself up on the caterpillar treads and ducked my head down against the storm, finally reaching the cockpit hatch and climbing inside.
It only required a few moments to gather the equipment and supplies together that we would need, and it didn’t take much longer to stow them in a back pack and strap the whole thing over my shoulders. I was about to retrace my steps when I chanced to see another flashlight. I picked it up and took it along since it couldn’t hurt to have two of the hand lights with us.
When I climbed out of the cupola it seemed to me that the storm was blowing harder. The sand whipped at me savagely, forcing me to close my eyes and hold my breath, I only dared to take a good breath of air after I had gotten down into the cave again. I quickly covered the short distance to the narrow side passage, but after taking a few steps inside I came to a halt.
Ahead of me everything lay in darkness. Why didn’t Fratulon have the other flashlight turned on? Cautiously, I groped my way forward to the opening at the end of the tunnel. Then I listened. I had an impression of some furtive rustling or scraping sound, as though something were coming nearer.
I suddenly turned on my hand light. In its beam I perceived two Ooths who were creeping forward and had just reached the slope of sand before me. When the light fell upon them they jerked back and protectively raised boney hands in front of their faces.
Ooths were mutated Arkonides. They were reputed to be descendants of treasure hunters, whose physiology had been altered by radiations from the silver web. They looked like the mummified cadavers that had come in contact with the strands. Their faces were distorted masks that were devoid of nose, eyes and ears. The teeth in their wide, lipless mouths were powerful enough to sever a man’s arm with a single bite.
They only came to the surface during the night because light had the effect of blinding them and causing their bodily substance to decompose. Darkness was their element. They were night creatures who guided themselves by ultrasound.
When I perceived the nature of my opponents, all I had to do was aim the beam of my flashlight at them in order to put them to flight. They cried out as the full intensity of the rays struck them and retreated in horrified panic into the lefthand side passage. I waited until the sound of their running feet had faded away, after which I negotiated the pile of debris and came down into the larger cavern.
There was no trace of Fratulon and Ice Claw.
I went to the mouth of the tunnel that led off toward the Marauthanian ruins. “Fratulon!” I shouted.
There was no answer. When I flashed my light further into the passage I saw a shadow flit into another side corridor. An Ooth…
I couldn’t imagine that Fratulon had been overcome by the mutants, who feared nothing more than light. What had happened here during my absence?
I couldn’t find any evidence that a struggle had occurred, so I finally turned to the righthand tunnel. If Fratulon had found some reason for leaving the cavern, then he must have used this passage, since it led toward the ruins we were heading for.
The tunnel led straight ahead, but I soon came upon a crosspassage. I swiftly turned my light beam into it in both directions and saw more Ooths hastily ducking out of the illumination into the safety of darkness.
There was nothing to be seen of Fratulon and Ice Claw. At the next cross passage the same experience was repeated. Three Ooths had been lying in ambush for me there, but again the beam of the hand light sent them screaming and fleeing in terror.
“Fratulon!”
Still no answer.
I became uneasy. I couldn’t understand how old Sawbones and the chretkor could simply disappear. I had not been gone long enough for them to have covered much distance in the tunnel. They simply had to hear my calls!
In my perplexity I wandered into a side passage. Instead of being straight, however, it twisted in a serpentine fashion so that I could only see a few paces ahead. It seemed that I could hear sounds ahead of me which receded as I progressed. Therefore I began to move along more swiftly.
Just now it was immaterial who might be ahead of me. It made no difference whether it was an Ooth or a Zagor. I would intercept him and try to find out from him if he knew anything about what happened to Fratulon and Ice Claw.
When I came around the next bend I saw that the torturous passage suddenly came to an end. Right in front of me was an Ooth who was desperately trying to climb up the smooth wall. He supported himself against the wall with his legs and arms and even managed to ascend a few feet, but then he slipped back again.
Then he realized that he was cornered and faced me ready to fight. Shielding his lightsensitive face with his hands, he turned toward me and crouched, prepared to spring in attack.
I pressed against the sea
mless wall while holding the hand lamp away from me. Since the light blinded him he would have to focus his charge in that direction, presuming me to be still in the middle of the passage.
In the very moment that he started his leap, a hand reached out of the wall and pulled me through with a mighty tug. It was not actually fingers that covered my mouth, but talons. I was surrounded by darkness. Yet strangely the passage I had just vacated was still illuminated by my flashlight. As though through a glass wall I saw the Ooth jump and grasp at emptiness.
Then I heard a cry that shook me to the marrow. A human cry—sounding as though it came from the lips of a woman.
4/ THE GIRL IN THE ARENA
The relationship between master and pupil was subtly changing.
Fratulon continued more and more to be amazed by Atlan’s progress. It was often just little things that elicited the teacher’s silent appreciation and admiration, but even when Atlan made decisions concerning matters of minor importance he demonstrated that each of his actions was the result of careful deliberation, at the same time being able to make up his mind in a hurry.
Fratulon recognized the fact that Atlan’s basic education and training had come to an end and that he could no longer import anything new to him. Now Atlan would have to put his knowledge to practical use. Out of his successes or failures would come the further lessons of his life ahead.
And Atlan learned so swiftly that Fratulon could only admire him in silent wonderment. All of which enabled the master to lay aside his role of teacher, more and more. Gradually he could bring into emergence the actual relationship between them: he was Atlan’s loyal and devoted servant…
* * * *
“Silence! There are Zagors here!” someone whispered to me, and I recognized the voice of Fratulon.
I experienced an unutterable relief at having found old Sawbones again. Actually it was he who had found me and pulled me into his hiding place, but just now it was a moot point.