“The Old Ones,” smiled Sojan. “I’ll tell you a tale which you may not believe. But it is a tale which has taught me much—as well as giving me a valuable history lesson!”
The voyage back was not a boring one for Sojan’s companions as they listened to his strange story.
But what of the Purple Galley you ask, what of Orfil and the princess who betrayed Rique? That, readers, is a story which is short and sad. They, too, attempted to sail through the Sea of Demons in pursuit of Sojan and his companions.
But they were not so lucky.
Chapter Eighteen
The Plain of Mystery
The wind tore at the rigging of the tiny air-cruiser as it pushed bravely into the howling storm.
Four men clung to the deck rails whilst a fifth strove to steer the tossing gondola.
“Keep her headed North!” yelled Nornos Rique to Sojan.
“At this rate we’ll be tossed on to Shortani unless the wind shifts!” Sojan yelled back.
Parijh the Shortanian grimaced.
“I’ve been meaning to go home for some time!” he called.
“You’ll be home for your own funeral unless someone gives me a hand with this wheel!” cried Sojan.
Sojan, Nornos Rique, Parijh, Andel and Red, the five men who had saved their planet of Zylor from the evil Priest Rulers of Rhan some months ago, were returning to Hatnor after being the guests of honour at several banquets held to celebrate their triumph. Sojan, Rique, Andel and Red had been uncomfortable about the whole thing, only Parijh, always glad of the limelight, had enjoyed himself thoroughly.
The storm had sprung up quickly and they were now battling to keep the little dirigible into the wind which drove them steadily Southwards. “Wouldn’t it be better to land, Sojan?” Andel shouted.
“It would be, my friend, if we knew where we were. There’s every likelihood of getting out of this trouble into something worse.”
Suddenly there was a loud snapping sound and the wheel spun throwing Sojan off balance and onto the deck.
“What was that?” yelled Parijh.
“Steering’s gone! We can’t attempt to repair it in this weather. We’ll just have to drift now!”
The five trooped down into the tiny cabin. Even there it was not warm and they were all depressed as they shivered in their cloaks and attempted to get some sleep.
Morning came and the storm had not abated. It lasted all through that day, the wind ripping into the ship and sending it further and further South.
“There’s never been a storm like this in my memory!” Nomos Rique said.
The others agreed.
“Further North,” said Andel, “they’re quite frequent. Lasting for days, so they say.”
“That’s true,” said Sojan.
By midnight of the next night the storm finished and the sky cleared of the clinging cloud. The stars, their constellations unfamiliar to Earth eyes, shone brightly and Sojan took a quick bearing.
“We’re over Shortani all right,” he muttered. “Well over. In fact, I believe we’re near the interior of the continent.”
Beneath them the scene was one of peace rather than that of death and mystery. Great plains, watered by winding rivers, lush forests, rearing mountains. The mountains seemed almost to take organic shape and loomed proudly over the landscape like gods looking down upon all they had created. Here and there herds of strange animals could be detected for the moons were very bright. They were drinking and did not look up as the airship glided silently above them.
In the morning Sojan and Andel set to work on repairing the broken steering-lines whilst the others looked down at the peaceful-seeming country beneath them.
All the time they worked they drifted further and further into the interior.
“If we drift much further, Sojan, we won’t have sufficient fuel to get us out again. Remember, we only had enough for a short journey!” Parijh called up to him where he was working on the steering gear.
“Vit take us! I hadn’t thought of that,” cried Sojan. “But there’s nothing we can do until this steering is fixed. Work as fast as possible Andel or we’ll be stranded here!”
But repairing the steering wires and readjusting the rudder, especially sitting in the rigging with only a flimsy safety line between you and oblivion, isn’t easy and it took Sojan and Andel several hours before the motors could be started up again.
“There’s not enough fuel to make it back to Hatnor,” Sojan said. “But if we’re lucky we’ll be able to get to civilised country on the Shortani coast!”
Now there was nothing they could do but hope and the men relaxed, watching the wonderful scenery beneath them and speculating on what kind of people, if any, lived there.
Red, who played a Zylorian instrument called a rinfrit—a kind of eightstringed guitar, sang them a song, based on an old legend about these parts. The first verse went something like this:
“There’s many a tale that has been told
of Phek the traveller, strong and bold!
But the strangest one I’ve ever heard—
Is when he caught a shifla bird.”
“What’s a shifla bird?” enquired Andel curiously.
“Oh, it’s supposed to be as big as an airship and looks like a great flying lizard.”
His companions were amused at this story, and all but Sojan, who was looking over towards the West, laughed.
“Don’t worry too much,” said Sojan calmly, “but is that anything like your shifla bird?”
And there, rising slowly from the forest, was the largest animal any of the adventurers had ever seen. Earth men would call it a dragon if they saw it. Its great reptilian jaws were agape and its huge bat-wings drove it along at incredible speed.
“It seems there was some truth in the legend,” muttered Red, licking dry lips and automatically fingering the pistol at his belt.
“There’s always some truth in legends,” said Sojan, “however incredible.”
The thing was nearly upon them now, obviously taking their cruiser for some kind of rival. It was as big as their ship although its body was about half the size whilst its wings made up the rest of its bulk. It was a kind of blueish grey, its great mouth a gash of crimson whilst wicked eyes gleamed from their sockets making it look like some dark angel from the Zylorian “Halls of the Dead.”
“Drop, Sojan, drop!” cried Nornos Rique as the men stood for a moment paralysed at the sight of something which they attributed only to the story scrolls of children.
Sojan whirled, rushed over to the controls and pushed several levers which opened valves in their gas-bag and caused the ship to lose height quickly.
The shifla swooped low overhead, barely missing them and causing them to duck automatically. Suddenly there came a cracking of branches, the ripping of fabric and the harsh snap of breaking wood. The ship had crashed into the forest. The men had been so busy trying to escape from the danger above them that they had forgotten the forest beneath them.
Sojan lifted his arm to shield his face and flung himself backwards as a branch speared through the ship like a fork through a fish and nearly impaled him at the same time. Eventually the noise stopped and, although the ship was swaying dangerously and threatening to fall apart any moment, sending the men to destruction, Sojan and his friends found that they had only bruises and scratches.
Sojan’s barbarian instincts came to the rescue. Cat-footed as ever he clambered out of the wreckage onto the branch which had almost killed him.
“Quick!” he yelled, “after me!”
His friends followed quickly, Parijh panting with the effort. They moved cautiously along the branch and finally reached the trunk of the tree. Down they clambered, easily now for the tree was full of strong branches and it was only a drop of four or five feet to the ground.
Sojan looked up to where the airship dangled, its great gas-bag deflated, the gondola smashed and torn.
“When that falls,” he said, “we’d better b
e some distance away for it’s likely that the engine will explode.”
“There go our supplies and rifles and ammunition,” said Nornos Rique quietly.
“We’ve got our lives—for the present at least,” Sojan reminded him. “We’ll have to head steadily Northwards and hope that we don’t strike a mountain range. If we are lucky we can follow a river across a plain. Several plains adjoin civilised or semi-civilised territories, don’t they, Parijh?”
“One of them runs into my own country of Uffjir, Sojan, but there’s one chance in fifty of making it!”
“Then it looks as if we’ll have to chance it, Parijh,” Sojan replied slowly, looking over towards the East. “But at least we shall be able to ride. There—see?”
They looked in the direction in which he was pointing. About a mile away, a herd of myats grazed placidly.
“Fan out—we should catch them easily if we organise properly,” Sojan called.
Slowly, so that they would not disturb the animals, Sojan and his friends closed in on the myats. Once trapped they were easily caught for, unlike most animals used as beasts of burden, myats were bred originally for the sole purpose of carrying human beings so that even wild ones were relatively docile.
Within a day their animals were captured and trained. The friends cheered up considerably now that they were mounted. They made good time, for these myats were particularly strong and fast, and they took direction from the twin suns.
Some days later Sojan caught sight of a strange gleam in the distance—as if the sun was glancing off a highly polished surface.
“Head in that direction,” he called to his companions. “There seems to be a building of some kind over there!”
And sure enough, it was a building. A great glistening domed construction, rising hundreds of feet into the air. It was built of a similar stone to marble. But what exactly was it? And why was it standing alone in such a savage wilderness? Perhaps what troubled the companions more than anything was whether there were men using it now? And were they friendly or otherwise?
“The only way to find out who or what is in there is to go nearer,” said Andel.
“You’re right,” agreed Sojan. “Let’s go!”
They forced their steeds into a quick trot, growing increasingly astonished, as they neared it, of the building’s enormous proportions.
They dismounted silently and made their way cautiously to the wide entrance of the place, which was apparently unguarded.
There were windows high above them, probably set in rooms situated at different levels in the building. Part of the roof was flat but most of it rose in the magnificent dome they had first seen. Although there were no signs of corrosion at all, the men got the impression that the building was centuries old.
“There seem to be no stairs in the place,” mused Sojan, looking around him at the gleaming marble hall which they had entered. To his left were two sheets of shining metal, seemingly set into the walls for no reason. To his right was an archway leading into a room just as bare as the one in which they now stood. “Wonder what these are?” Red said, brushing his hand across one of the metal sheets.
Instantly there was a faint hum and the sheet of metal disappeared upwards, revealing a small indentation! Was it a cupboard?
Red stepped warily into the alcove, sword in hand. At once, the sheet of metal hummed downwards behind him.
“By Vit! He’s trapped!” cried Sojan.
He brushed his own hand across the metal, but nothing happened. For several minutes he tried to open the metal door but it seemed impossible. How Red had done it, they could not tell.
Suddenly from the outside came a yell.
Rushing into the sunlight they looked up—and there was Red, very cheerful, grinning down on them from a window of the tenth storey, the one nearest the roof.
“How did you get up there?” called Nornos Rique.
“The ‘cupboard’ took me up! It’s a kind of moving box which lifts you up to any storey you wish. Though I had to let it take me all the way up. There were lots of buttons to press, but I dare not press any of them. After I’d got out, the doors closed again. I tried to get back in but the doors at that end wouldn’t move. It looks as if I’m stuck here for life.”
He didn’t look as if he was particularly worried about the prospect.
Comprehending, Sojan rushed back into the great hall and again passed his hand over the metal “door.” It hummed upwards. He didn’t step in immediately but waited for his friends to join him.
“The ones who built this place must have been wonderful engineers,” remarked Sojan. “That’s no great surprise now I recognise the language in which the directions for the operation of that thing were written—it’s old Kifinian!”
“What?” exclaimed Parijh. “You mean that the ancestors of the Kifinians built this?”
“Obviously. They were famous for their engineering skills. It has to be Kifinian work. Otherwise how do you explain the language?”
“From what you learned at the Temple of Rhan, Sojan,” mused Nornos Rique, “the ancestors of the entire planet, so far as human beings like ourselves are concerned, came from another planet thousands of years ago—perhaps this was built before the race spread and degenerated. But what could it be?”
“I think I know,” answered Sojan. “Notice how the whole area around the building is entirely treeless—a flat plain—a few shrubs, now, and other vegetation, but for the most part flat. This place was a landing field for airships of some kind. We have, as you know, similar landing fields all over the civilised parts of Zylor. This building was no doubt a control station of some description.”
Suddenly Red who had been standing by the window called to his friends.
“Look, down there!” he yelled. “Savages, hundreds of them!”
Below them swarmed a silent mass of strange near-human creatures. They all carried spears and short, broad-bladed swords. They were covered in tightly matted hair and had long tails curling behind them.
“We seem to have violated taboo ground, judging by their actions,” said Parijh who knew this people better than the rest, for his race occasionally traded with them. “They won’t enter themselves, but they will wait until we come out—as come out we must, for food.”
“The best thing we can do,” said Andel, “is to look around this place and see if there is any other way out.”
“Good idea,” agreed Sojan, “if you see any more of those metal plates, try to open them.”
They split up and each explored a certain section of the floor. Soon they heard Andel call from the centre of the building. Rushing to the room from which he had called they were astounded to see a large, opened panel. This one revealed a kind of bridge spanning a drop which must have gone right down to the foundations. The bridge led to a huge, streamlined shell of gleaming metal fitted with triangular fins.
They stepped onto the bridge and moved in single file across it until they reached a door. Scowling faintly, Sojan deciphered the ancient hieroglyphics on it.
“Here we are,” he said, pressing a button. “To Open.” And open it did.
“It’s obviously an airship of some kind,” said Andel, who was the most mechanically minded of the five. “Probably a ship similar to the ones in which our ancestors came to this planet.”
“You mean an airship capable of travelling—through space?” said Sojan.
“Perhaps,” said Andel, “but also travelling from continent to continent probably. If only we knew how to operate it!”
They finally managed to find the control room of the ship. All around them were tiers of dials and instruments. Working quickly, now that the script was becoming more familiar to him, Sojan deciphered most of the captions on the instruments. Set on the main control panel were levers marked, “Automatic, Emergency, Poltoon,”
“Automatic, Emergency, Jhar,” etc. The names were those of continents.
“We can’t stay here all the time,” said Sojan. “If w
e stay we will starve to death, if we go outside we die, we might as well risk it.” So saying, and without waiting for his friends’ advice he pulled the lever marked Poltoon and stood back.
There came a gentle hum as the door through which they had entered closed. Another hum grew steadily louder and the entire roof of the building opened out letting in the sunlight. Then a hiss and a rumble like thunder and Sojan and his companions were thrown to the floor. Still the rumble increased until blackness overcame them and they lost consciousness.
Chapter Nineteen
Ship of the Ancients
Sojan was the first to recover. Looking through the forward porthole he saw a sight which to him was terrifying. The velvet blackness of outer space, stars set like diamonds in its ebony beauty.
There was another rumble from the depths of the ship. With animal tenacity he sought to cling to consciousness. But it was no good. He collapsed once more on the floor of the ship.
He awoke a second time to see a blue sky above him and green vegetation beneath him. His friends rose on shaky legs.
“We’re not much better off, it seems,” grinned Sojan, cheerful now. “We’re in the Poltoonian Wilderness. The nearest civilised land is Tigurn. See, over there are the remains of a port similar to the one on the Shortani plain.”
He pulled another lever. Immediately the portholes disappeared and they had the sensation of moving downwards at great velocity. A high-pitched whine and they stopped. A panel slid open and a small bridge moved outwards over a drop of some five feet above the ground.
“There was probably a landing stage at this point,” said Sojan with the air of an ancient professor delivering a lecture. “Anyway,” he laughed, “we can drop the last few feet.”
When they reached the ground they stood back.
Then the faint purr of machinery and the doors closed. Another sound, not quite so smooth—the chug-chug of an airship motor. The companions turned and saw several large airships of standard pattern circling above them. They flew the banner of Pelira, a country which had allegiance to Hatnor. Flying low, the captain of the airship inspected them, saw that they were not the strange monsters he had expected and landed his craft lightly fifty feet away from them. They ran towards it.
Sojan the Swordsman ; Under the Warrior Sky Page 9