"My path lies in another direction," Tarzan said.
"Ebopa?" Nyama said.
"For one," Tarzan said. "Now go, before the crowd reorganizes and decides to elect a new king. Go before you are worse off than before."
Nkima bounced on Tarzan's shoulder and made chittering noises.
"No, Nkima," Tarzan said. "Not this time, old friend. Go with these people and Jad-bal-ja."
Tarzan lifted the lion onto the litter as carefully as he might a kitten. Jad-bal-ja licked his hand. Tarzan spoke to the lion in the language of the jungle. "You will be all right with these tarmangani, old friend. They will take care of you. And if fate and the law of the jungle allow, will see you and Nkima again."
Hunt shook hands with Tarzan. Jean said, "You are something special, Mr. Tarzan."
"Yes, I am," Tarzan said, and smiled.
"And modest as well," Jean said.
"My greatest trait," Tarzan said.
Nyama and Jean took turns bugging him, then with Hunt's assistance they dragged the litter bearing Jad-bal-ja away. Just before they began carefully descending down stairs that led away from the arena, Jad-bal ja lifted hi bloodied head and looked at the ape-man. His lips curled Tarzan thought: Who says a beast cannot smile?
When Hunt, Jean, and Nyama broke into the main courtyard carrying the litter bearing Jad-bal-ja and Nkima, who had hitched a ride, they were Amazed at the rush of humanity. There wasn't a hint of civilization amongst the roaring, shoving, pushing crowd. Women, children, the elderly fell before the frightened and confused masses and were trampled. Seeing their god frightened by an outsider, having it go amok within their own populace had been too much for the Urs' sensibilities.
In their dash to escape death by their god, they he upset lamps and oils and torches. Ur had begun to burn. The fires spread rapidly, and already flames leapt from windows and a smoke thick as wool and dark as pitch rose up above the city and turned the clear blue sky and the snow-white clouds to soot.
Nyama took command immediately. "This way," she shouted, and they bore the litter away from the mass of teeming humanity, and fled back into the flaming building.
'We'll die!" Hunt yelled.
"No," Nyama said. "I know this place. Through the kitchen."
They were almost bowled over by fleeing Urs, but the bulk of the rush was from the main grounds and the arena. This way, they were able to thread their way through the frightened stragglers, and soon they were moving down a long flight of stairs and into the kitchen of the great palace.
They were almost exhausted by the time they reached the kitchen, raced through it, and rushed out the back door and through a courtyard. Warriors, frothing at the mouth as if infected with rabies, pounded past them; the very foundation on which they based their lives had fallen out from beneath them, and now they were all but insane, their one design to get away, to anywhere.
Nyama led her party across the courtyard, and with absolutely no resistance, they moved into the field beyond the great city, and turned wide around the moat toward the jungle that surrounded Ur.
Hanson, Billy, and Wilson watched in amazement from the concealment of the jungle as the people of Ur rushed out of their city. Many tumbled from the drawbridge or were stomped by the populace, but now, for the Urs, a new problem had entered the playing field.
The moat bridge began to collapse due to the great weight it was bearing. It snapped and the lumber leapt high. The frightened masses were dropped into the water with the crocodiles who were having a field day. The water had turned red and slick with blood and the sounds of the wounded and the dying was terrible.
"If Jean was alive," Hanson said. "And inside.."
"You don't know that," Billy said.
"I think you can bet on it," Wilson said. "I was you, I'd get me a woman, make another daughter, and head to the house."
Hanson turned and slugged Wilson, knocked him to the ground.
Wilson spat out a tooth and glared at Hanson. "Easy to do with my hands tied."
"Cut him loose, Billy," Hanson said.
"Bwana, I don't know you. . ."
"Cut him loose!" Hanson said.
Billy shook his head, drew his knife, and cut Wilson's hands free.
"I don't like it, Bwana," Billy said.
Wilson stood up. "You ain't gonna like it more when you see what I do here to your boss. Get ready, Hanson. I'm gonna turn your face to hamburger."
There was a break in the foliage, about half the size a boxing ring, and the two naturally gravitated toward it. Wilson danced and jabbed and Hanson took the blows to his forearms and elbows. Hanson realized immediately that this guy knew what he was doing. Hanson had boxed enough to know that. But Hanson determined that in spite of that, he in fact had the edge. He thought: Wilson doesn't know I know what I know. He doesn't know I've had boxing experience, and if I don't show it up-front he's going to get overconfident, and when he does. . .
Hanson lowered his guard, purposely. Wilson flashed out a jab, caught Hanson on the forehead. Hanson was able to slip it pretty well, but it was a solid shot. He let Wilson have another. Wilson moved in for the kill.
And then Hanson brought into play what he thought was his best punch. An uppercut. He swung up fast and solid and caught Wilson under the chin, snapping his head back. Wilson wobbled, and Hanson brought in an overhand right, and caught him just above the right eye.
Wilson went down and out.
Breathing heavily, Hanson said, "Tie him up again, Billy."
Billy laughed. "You tough, Bwana. Nobody want to bother you. You tough."
"Right now," Hanson said, "I'm tired."
Tarzan lost sight of Ebopa, but not the scent. The scent was distinct. Carrying the chain, Tarzan tracked Ebopa throughout the arena. He found the beast back in the arena proper, clawing at a wooden door. It looked weak, injured. The wounds he had inflicted on the monster had finally taken their toll. Still, Ebopa clawed so brutally, great sheets of wood peeled off the door and fell around it in strips.
Tarzan was watching from the stands, fifteen feet above the arena. He dropped over the side and into the arena a mere instant after Ebopa managed to shatter the door and enter into the darkness that led deep into the caverns.
Tarzan followed Ebopa into the darkness. The creature was moving rapidly. Tarzan assumed that it had never been hurt in a fight before. No one before had been able to injure it. Tarzan knew it would die, but it would take a long time to die. He must finish it. Even a terrible creature like Ebopa should not be allowed to suffer.
Down, down, down, led only by his sense of smell, went Tarzan. Finally his nostrils picked up the aroma of oil. He stretched out his hands and found that there was a trough that ran along the wall of the tunnel, and it was filled with oil. Tarzan grabbed the chain, one end in each hand, and cracked it together. A spark flew. He did it again. He popped it a half dozen times until the spark hit and ignited the oil. Flames charged down the trough and filled the cavern with lig ht.
The tunnel wound down and around and became precarious. Tarzan was overwhelmed by Ebopa's spoor. He was closing in on the creature. A few
minutes later he came to a wide cavern. It was dark in there. Tarzan found a row of dry torches jutting out of the wall, and he took one, lit it, and proceeded.
The torchlight played across the rocks and revealed Ebopa. The god of the Urs lay on the floor by an uprise of stone, and on the stone was a greenish, rubbery-looking egg. Ebopa was breathing heavily. One of its claws rested near the egg, protectively. The ceiling dripped dirt and Tarzan realized this was due not only to the mad rush of humankind above them, but also because part of this cavern was supported by rotten, man-made supports, an the dying Ebopa had fallen against one of them, dislodging it.
Tarzan realized too that Ebopa was not only male, but female. It had impregnated itself. He could see a number of egg-casings lying about, as well as the skeletal remains of adult creatures. Tarzan understood now how Ebopa had lived so long. It had been tr
apped here many moons ago, but as it aged, it impregnated itself and gave birth to a replacement. There had been many Ebopas.
But there would be no more.
A creature like this, it was not for the upper world.
Tarzan approached Ebopa, the chain ready to strike. But when he was within distance to do the killing, Ebopa's head dropped, the claw scraped over the rock, and Ebopa , The Stick That Walks, the God of the Urs, fell dead.
Tarzan turned his attention to the leather egg. It wobbled. A little hooked claw emerged from the shell, twisted, vibrated.
And above them the earth shifted.
Tarzan looked up. The cavern was starting to collapse. He turned to run, but suddenly the light of the tunnel disappeared behind a curtain of dirt. The stampede of people above, the rotten timbers, the disintegration of the caverns, were all coming into position at once. And the end result was simple.
Destruction.
The ground pitched and rocked. A timber fell toward Tarzan. He caught it, shoved it aside.
Then the world dropped down on him.
THE URS, FRIGHTENED away from the flaming, collapsing city, had primarily taken to the road for their escape route. The time of Ur was finished, for even as Hanson and Billy watched, the city walls began to drop, to fall forward into the moat, revealing the great, burning city.
And then the city itself started to sink. It fell into a massive hole in the earth with an explosion and a burst of dark dust tat flared up and mixed with the ark smoke that already coiled above it like a leprous snake.
All that was left of Ur now was a huge dark hole.
"Oh, God," Hanson said. "No one could have lived through that."
"Don't be so sure," Billy said, stepping out from between jungle trees and onto the beginnings of the grassy plain. "Look there."
Coming toward them, bearing a litter, was Hunt and Jean, and a man they did not recognize.
"My God," Hanson said. "Thank the Lord."
Leaving Wilson bound and unconscious, they bolted across the grasslands toward the trio.
Jean couldn't believe her eyes. "Father!"
They laid Jad-bal-ja down, and an ran to her father and he took her in his arms and covered her face with kisses and hugged her tight.
"I thought I had lost you," he said.
"And I, you," she said.
Hunt came forward and shook Hanson's and Billy's hand. Billy looked at Nyama. "I do not know you."
"Nor I you," Nyama said. "But you look pretty good."
"So do you."
"That does not mean I will like you," Nyama said. "You looking good."
"No," said Billy, "but it's a better start than thinking I look like back end of zebra."
Jean quickly introduced Nyama to everyone, then said, "We have to watch over Tarzan's lion. He was wounded saving our lives."
Nkima began to bound up and down, making enough noise for a boxcar full of monkeys. "I think we are neglecting Tarzan's monkey," Hunt said. "He is very spoiled."
"Good monkey," Jean said, and stroked Nkima's head. The little monkey seemed appeased. He leaped to Jean's shoulder and maintained position there.
"And Tarzan?" Hanson asked.
Jean's humor faded. She turned and looked toward where the city of Ur had once been. "I don't know... But I doubt he lives."
Billy said: "If anyone lives from such a thing, it is Tarzan. No one else could. But Tarzan could."
"I believe you're right," Hanson said. "At least, I like to think so."
"Let's go home," Jean said. "And forget Ur."
"As far as I'm concerned," Hanson said. "It's still a lost city."
Billy and Hanson helped bear Jad-bal-ja to where Wilson lay unconscious. They treated the lion's wounds again, and when Wilson awoke, they started back the way they had come, looking for the hobbled zebras. It became apparent that some of the fleeing Urs had taken the mounts for themselves, so they continued on foot, little Nkima actually guiding them along on the proper path.
It took them a month, and they had much hardship, but there were positive side effects. Love bloomed between Nyama and Billy, and Jean decided Hunt wasn't quite as stupid and incompetent as she originally thought. At the end of the month, they reached the outskirts of civilization, anxious to turn Wilson over to the authorities and leave the jungle life.
By this time Jad-bal-ja was well and walking, and on the day before Hanson's party would have reached civilization proper, the lion and Nkima simply disappeared. But not before Jad-bal-ja killed a gazelle and left it in camp as a parting gift. Hanson and his party cooked the meat and ate it, and they never saw Tarzan, Nkima, or Jad-bal-ja again.
Down in the dusty bowels of the earth, Tarzan moved. He had lain unconscious for hours, but now he moved. The earth had fallen on him, but like a wave, it had washed him back against a weak tunnel wall and pushed him through it, and finally the wash had stopped and he awoke inside a deep cavern with walls illuminated by phosphorescence, a mound of dirt at his feet.
Tarzan sat up and found next to him the empty leathery shell of Ebopa's egg. The little beast had freed itself.
Tarzan sniffed the air. The creature was heading down the slope of the cavern, toward the earth's center. This route was most likely how the first Ebopa had arrived, and through some freak accident it had been sealed off from its world. Trapped in the caverns. And now, through another freak accident, the newest Ebopa had opened the way for one of its offspring to return to its source.
Tarzan considered trying to reach topside, but it was impossible
to go back the way he had come. It was sealed off by tons of dirt and
rock and timbers.
And besides. Why should he go back?
He could imagine only one reason. He allowed himself to think momentarily of Jane, and then he thought of her no more. For now such thoughts were useless and distracting. There was no use wishing for what he could not make come true. Perhaps later. What would come would come. He still lived. Tarzan stood up and started following the path of the cavern.
Down, down, down, toward the center of the earth.
Toward Pellucidar, where his kind were timeless and forever king.
Burroughs, Edgar Rice - Tarzan 27 - The Lost Adventure (with Lansdale, Joe R) Page 22