Robert Grandon 02 Prince of Peril

by Otis Adelbert Kline

  Like a cat caught in a salmon tin, the marmelot alternately shook its head, clawed at the scaly throat, or belly—I know not which to call it—and ran blindly about. Presently it rolled over on its back, and drawing the round body of the kroger toward it with its two front legs, literally scratched it to ribbons with its terrible hind claws. Yet the immense jaws held— firmly, inexorably; in fact, they seemed to be clamping down tighter and tighter all the time, sinking more deeply into the flesh of the great feline with every move it made.

  The struggles of the combatants presently grew weaker, but as the sounds of battle died down the noises in the fern brakes around us grew closer and more alarming. Evidently attracted by the sounds of battle or the smell of blood, the denizens of the hills drew nearer and nearer in an ever-narrowing circle. The weird howling of the awoos, mingled with the grisly laughter of the hahoes and the cries of other night-roving beasts, produced a most uncanny effect.

  If we did not find shelter soon, our bodies would go to appease the flesh-hunger of one or another of these hunters.

  Warning Loralie to keep out of sight in the bushes, I dashed over to the fire, seized a burning brand and hurled it into the cave. As nothing charged out after me, I peered in. By the flickering light of the burning stick I could see that the cave was small and apparently empty, except for a pile of dry fern fronds against the back wall.

  Entering, I picked up the torch and investigated this. It proved to be a nest about four feet across, in the center of which was a round egg, covered with a membranous shell mottled green and yellow—the same color as the outer scales of the kroger.

  Hurrying out of the cave once more, I softly called to my companion. "Carry the fuel into the cave at once, while I build our barricade."

  While we both worked in frenzied haste, the sounds in the surrounding darkness grew ominously closer. The struggles of the marmelot and kroger had ceased altogether, and our fire was burning low.

  Perspiring from every pore with my strenuous labor, I presently got the cave mouth closed except for a narrow hole on one side barely large enough to admit the body of a man.

  Loralie had meanwhile carried all of the fuel into the cave and was waiting for me in its dark interior.

  Seizing a flaming faggot from the remains of the fire, I squeezed through the narrow opening, then lifted into place the rock I had reserved for the purpose while the princess held the torch for me. Scarcely had I done this ere a half dozen lean gray forms bounded into the glow that was shed by the last few coals of our fire and began tearing at the two mighty carcasses which were locked in a death embrace beside it.

  As I watched through the interstices between the rocks, I saw that these were awoos. The more cowardly hahoes soon joined them, and there ensued a fierce medley of growling, snapping and snarling as the beasts fought over their bloody feast.

  Because there was no way of ventilating our cave, I disliked building a fire inside; but I felt constrained to do so when a huge hahoe came sniffing up to our rock barrier, then threw back its head and gave vent to the horrid cry which gives it its name. I piled a few faggots against the barricade and lighted them with the flaming brand I still held. It was well I did so, for the cry of the first brute quickly brought a half dozen others and they began sniffing and scratching at the loosely piled rocks.

  The smoke nearly strangled us at first, and got in our eyes, making tears stream down our cheeks. But as it billowed out between the crevices in the barrier the besieging beasts sneezed and backed away.

  When the moisture had burned out of the fuel it smoked less, and I found that by feeding the fire gradually I could cut its smoking down to a minimum which, though still disagreeable, was bearable.

  Glancing across the fire at my companion, I was about to speak to her when I saw that, in spite of her fear, exhaustion had claimed her, and she slept. She lay on her side, her tousled head pillowed on one white arm, her seductive curves outlined in the flickering firelight against the smoky background of the cave's interior.

  Despite the tremendous din outside the cave, I presently felt myself growing drowsy. Twice I caught myself wearily nodding, only being able to rouse with an effort at thought of what might happen if our watch fire should go out.

  Taking a three-foot length of fern frond, I thrust one end into the fire and laid my hand over the other. At the rate these fronds burned I should catch ten minutes or more of sleep before the flames should reach my hand and awaken me.

  I awakened with a start. Daylight was streaming through the crevices in our rock barrier. The fire had ceased to smolder, and the frond on which I had counted to awaken me had gone out more than a foot from my hand. Loralie was still sleeping quietly across from me.

  Near the dead embers of our outdoor fire lay the bones of the marmelot and the kroger, picked clean. The vegetation was torn, trampled and spotted with blood, but of the flesh-eaters that had threatened us the night before I saw no other sign.

  Only a short distance away I saw a large clump of water ferns, and toward this I made my way in quest of food and drink. I found these useful shrubs heavily laden with spore pods and, after a refreshing drink, pulled up a number of fronds to take back with me.

  As I was walking back toward the cave I caught sight of a small animal browsing on the steep hillside above me. ..Silently putting down my water-filled fronds, I extracted bow and arrow from my quiver, took careful aim at the animal, and loosed a shaft. Struck just behind the shoulder and pierced clear through, it gave a piteous bleat, sank to its knees, then rolled over and came tumbling down the hillside to fall dead at my feet.

  It was a wild frella, one of the hairless, sheeplike creatures which are such highly prized food animals on Venus. I had already tasted the flesh of the domestic variety in the Black Tower.

  After returning to the cave mouth with the spoils of my brief excursion, I kindled a new fire on the dead embers of the old one outside, and soon the appetizing aroma of grilling frella steak filled the morning air.

  Stepping into the semidarkness of the interior I saw that Loralie was already awake and intently watching the large nest in the rear. "I heard something move back there," she whispered, "and I'm afraid."

  Club in hand, I advanced toward the nest. As I did so I heard a peculiar scratching sound which seemed to come from the center where the round egg lay. Yet I could detect no sign of any movement.

  Reassured by my presence, the princess came up beside me and peered into the nest. "What can it be?"

  Before I could reply, her question was answered from the nest itself. The egg split open and a tiny kroger—like the one slain by the marmelot in every respect except size-rolled out, got unsteadily to its feet, and blinked inquiringly up at us, cocking its head to one side.

  I swung my club aloft, bent on quickly dispatching this miniature monstrosity, but the princess caught my arm. "Don't you dare hurt that poor little thing."

  The kroger toddled toward her, balanced itself on the edge of the nest, and uttered a rasping, mournful croak.

  "The darling!" exclaimed Loralie. "I believe it likes me. Isn't it cute?"

  "Cute! It's hideous. I could choke it—if it had a throat."

  "Brute! How could you do such a thing?"

  "I'm brute enough to be thoroughly hungry," I answered, "and the royal butler is about to serve breakfast. Will you join me or stay here and play with this walking nightmare?"

  She held out her hand to the kroger, which instantly opened its enormous mouth to full capacity, and gave vent to a series of high-pitched croaks. "Poor little orphan, it's hungry. I couldn't think of eating a morsel without feeding it. Help it to get down, won't you?"

  I extended the flat of my club, intending to shove it beneath the creature's belly, or throat, whichever it might be, and lift it down to the floor. But it sidled away from the weapon—then hopped down by itself and toddled toward the princess. With a little scream of alarm she turned and darted out of the cave, the kroger waddling after her.
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br />   I squeezed through the opening as quickly as I could, getting out just in time to see her snatch one of the deliciously grilled frella steaks which I had prepared and toss it into the cavernous maw of the young reptile. It instantly clamped its jaws shut, and dropping the grayish film of its eyelids, settled down beside the princess with its chin between its feet to sleep.

  "I told you the little thing was hungry," she said as we sat down to breakfast.

  When we had eaten, Loralie insisted that I make her a bow, arrows and quiver. After I had cut a number of reeds into the correct length for arrows I set her to feathering the shafts with bits of fern leaf while I manufactured a number of crude sharp flint slivers for the heads.

  After I had a sufficient quantity of these rough tips made, I showed her how to bind them to the shafts, while I scraped, dried, and rubbed with hot fat a section of frella hide for the quiver. While it was hanging by the fire I made a bow.

  This work occupied several hours, during which time the kfoger slept contentedly beside the princess. When everything was completed and we were ready to resume our journey, the hideous baby reptile promptly woke up and followed us.

  As we did not care to run the risk of another attack by the slimy swamp dwellers we planned to follow the mountain range which gradually curved toward the southeast, thus avoiding the marsh and eventually coming out on the coast of the Ropok Ocean. Here we might meet the rescue party of Prince Gadrimel, or failing in this, could try to follow the coast northward to Adonijar.

  After about five hours of travel, during which time the princess had been practicing with her new weapons and keeping me busy retrieving arrows, we decided to stop in a small clump of water ferns for food and rest. I had just un-slung the haunch of frella meat which I carried and hung it on a fern frond so the young kroger couldn't get it, preparatory to building a fire, when I heard a terrific roar come from over the brow of the hill, followed by the shouting of men, the crashing of underbrush, and intermittent snarls and growls.

  I hurried to the hilltop to investigate, the princess running after me and the kroger waddling behind her as fast as its short legs would carry it.

  Taking cover behind the bushy fronds of a cycad, I peered down at the scene of strife below. A party of men, about fifty in number, was engaged in a battle with an enormous ramph. The huge, hairless, bearlike creature reared up on its hind feet from time to time, towering above the men around it like a giant among pygmies.

  Half a dozen of the men already lay motionless on the ground, yet the others, swarming about the fierce beast, seemed absolutely fearless. They were armed with knives and long, straight-bladed, two-edged swords, and were naked except for their sword-belts, which appeared to be of metal links, and their gleaming, conical helmets or casques.

  They were a white-skinned race—too white, I thought, as if they spent nearly all their time indoors. And they wore no beards—an unusual thing on Zarovia, where a beard, cut off square below the chin, was a mark of fashionable manhood.

  As I watched, a man darted in to deliver a thrust with his sword. Before he could do so the ramph whipped "out with a huge paw and stretched him, crushed and still, on the ground a full twenty feet away. Another man who succeeded in pricking the creature beneath the right shoulder met a like fate.

  Instinctively I reached for bow and arrow, but remembered that at that range an arrow could not possibly do more than add to the fury of the beast. Then a scheme came to my mind which I instantly put into execution. Removing an ammunition clip marked Tork Projectiles, Deadly, from the belt I had. taken from Taliboz, I extracted one of the needlelike missiles and with a bit of cord, bound it to the head of my arrow.

  After replacing the clip in my belt, I took careful aim and released the shaft. It struck the ramph in the shoulder and the deadly virus acted almost instantly; in a few seconds it keeled over, to fight no more.

  Apparently mystified at what had killed the great beast, the men clustered curiously-about the fallen brute, examining it intently. One pulled the arrow from its shoulder and was instantly surrounded by a group of his comrades, all eager to see and handle it.

  "Shall we make ourselves known to them?" I asked the princess, who was peering over my shoulder.

  "As you will," she replied. "They seem to be soldiers of a civilized nation, but one I do not recognize. No .doubt they will be glad to help us when they know who we are."

  I stepped from behind the cycad and shouted the universal Zarovian word for peace—"Dual"

  The entire armed band whirled toward me, and I was horrified at the unhuman quality of their gaze—as if they were more, or less, than men.

  CHAPTER X

  The leader of the hunters called out "Dua" and Princess Loralie stepped from her hiding place to my side. Together we walked toward them.

  "I am Pangar," said their leader, according us the royal salute in deference to the scarlet we wore. He himself, although not clothed, had a purple band on his metallic helmet and touches of purple on his accouterments which marked him as a member of the nobility.

  "I am Zinlo of Olba," I replied, acknowledging his salute, "and this is the Torrogina Loralie of Tyrhana."

  "In the name of my royal master, Tandor of Doravia, I bid Your Highness welcome," he said. "Will you accompany me to the palace and permit my emperor the pleasure of greeting you in person?"

  "We'll be delighted."

  "Your indulgence for a moment, then, while I see if any of my men can be salvaged."

  "Salvagedl" I was struck by the peculiarity of the term when applied to men. It brought home to me that there was something extremely odd about these people. The motions of many of them seemed to be quite stiff and awkward-mechanical, that was it—like the motions of marionettes.

  Their armor—accouterments and weapons, too—were not made of ordinary metal, as I had first thought, but were constructed from a material which greatly resembled glass. The blades of the swords and daggers were quite transparent. The hilts resembled colored glass.

  The helmets were also transparent, except for the colored band at the base of each denoting the status of the wearer. The chain belts and shoulder straps were of the same material, but lined with ramph leather, evidently to prevent their contact with the body.

  Pangar bent over one of the fallen men. "Think you can make it?" he asked.

  The stricken one spoke weakly. "Power unit is low. Was shorted for a time, but I have it back in place now. If someone can spare some power . . ."

  "Who can spare power?" asked Pangar.

  A man stepped up. "I can spare five xads."

  "Good." From a hook on his belt, Pangar took two coiled tubes that resembled insulated wires with metal sockets at each end. He inserted an end of each wire in each ear of the fallen man and handed the other two ends to the man standing. The latter instantly inserted an end in each ear, meanwhile watching an indicator which was strapped to his wrist. Presently he jerked a tube from one ear, then the other. The fallen man arose, apparently restored to strength, and returned the wires to Pangar.

  I noticed the next man. His entire breast had been torn away by the claws of the ramph. There was a set expression on his features, as of death or deep hypnotic sleep. But around the jagged wound was no sign of blood. The flesh, if it was flesh, was a peculiar grayish-red shade. And where the viscera would have been exposed in a normal human being, I saw a conglomeration of coils, tubes, wheels and wires, tangled and broken.

  Pangar passed him by with but a single glance. "No use to try to save this one."

  He rapidly examined the other fallen men. Two were picked up and slung over the shoulders of comrades. The rest were stripped of their weapons and helmets and left lying on the ground. A half dozen men, using their keen knives, had already skinned the ramph. It seemed that they wanted the hide only, not the flesh, for the great red carcass was left lying near the broken figures of the fallen men when we went.

  Men or machines—which? I pondered the matter as Loralie and I
walked beside the courteous and seemingly human Pangar, while the kroger waddled at our heels.

  After a walk of about two hours we reached the summit of the mountain range and halted there for a few moments of rest while Pangar pointed with pride to the various features of the fertile valley of Doravia which was spread before us. It was oval in form, about twenty-five miles in length, tapering down to points at both ends where the inclosing mountain ranges ran together.

  At the northwestern end of the valley a tremendous waterfall, over a mile in height and fully a half mile in width, tumbled into a spray-veiled lake. From this flowed a river that wound through the center of the valley, to emerge at the southeast end. According to Pangar, it emptied into the Ropok.

  At each side of the falls a conical, hive-shaped structure of immense size towered for some distance above the upper water level. These two enormous buildings were connected by an arched span that was fully a half mile above the lower water level. Their bases were hidden by the mists that arose from the bottom of the cataract.

  The banks of the river, as it wound through the valley, were dotted at regular intervals by smaller twin towers of similar construction. The surfaces of all these buildings glistened with mirrorlike brightness.

  In the very center of the valley, on an island of considerable size around which the river flowed in two nearly equally divided streams, was the largest structure of all. Cone-shaped like the others, but much larger than any of them, it reared its pointed, gleaming top to a height of fully two miles.

  "The imperial palace of Tandor of Doravia," explained Pangar as he saw me looking at it. "A wonderful building. We will be there in a short time now."

  "But it's fully five kants" from here," I said. Then I noticed something which had previously escaped my observation. A thin cable stretching beside a long narrow platform a short distance below us extended out toward the tower, though it soon dwindled into invisibility. It was composed of the same peculiar glistening material.