A rock whizzed by Ka-Zar’s head. A raider had pulled up along side and was reaching in a sack for more missiles. The jungle lord banked sharply. He was nearly jabbed by a spear from above as another opponent zipped past.
Shanna was plummeting toward the cluster of nets. Ka-Zar grinned mirthlessly. His wife was proving her toughness. She wasn’t going down alone. Along with her came the raider and his mount.
The nets swallowed them all. The pteranodon flapped like a headless chicken, then all at once went still.
Ka-Zar had no chance to be certain whether Shanna had landed safely. A raider descended upon him. He slashed upward, finding flesh. Reptilian blood splattered him. The attacker rose and backed off.
A host of raiders buzzed around him. The beast carrying Vertigo was rising to join the fray. He reeled from a pulse of projected queasiness, evading further defilement only by wild swoops and sudden changes of direction. His flyer couldn’t exert itself like that for long. The skies were not the place to continue the fight; he had to get to ground, find cover, and make them come after him one or two at a time.
But first, he turned and spurred his reptile toward the nets, knife held tight. He would have one chance to slash at the netting. Perhaps he could win Ororo or Shanna just enough freedom to make a difference. He leaned far over, barely •keeping a grip on the saddle horn, reaching out below with the blade.
He was still in the midst of the approach swoop when his skull seemed to implode. Let go. Let go. Let go.
Sauron! The hypnotic command thrashed deep, unnerving his fingers. In his previous struggles with the monster, he had never felt it so loudly, so brutally.
He was Ka-Zar, Lord Kevin Plunder. He would not yield. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to drive out the foreign, repugnant influence.
Too late. His fingers were already straining too much to regain their hold. The initial, unexpected assault had done its dirty work. Ka-Zar fell.
As the net closed around him, he gazed back at the sky and saw Sauron glide serenely down in his wake. He was clutching Archangel, who hung limply. That explained the potency of Sauron’s hypnotic pulse—he had just drained energy from Warren.
Sauron let go of Archangel, who fell like a stone toward a nearby net.
Ka-Zar wriggled an arm loose. He still had his knife. But even as he began to slash at the cords, he saw a warrior on the ground lift a blowgun. The dart stung his thigh. In moments, muscles stiffened all over his body. The rosy glow of dusk immediately faded to the blackness of deep night.
He was still semiconscious as he was bound, gagged, and tossed on the spongy moss that covered the clearing. His last perception consisted of voices, particularly that of Sauron, berating his underlings to finish up their work before anyone came along to interfere.
“Our plan is almost complete,” the villain cackled. “Just a few loose ends, and my victory will be complete.”
That, Ka-Zar realized grimly, could very well be the truth.
CHAPTER 10
Deep in the swamp, Cannonball gazed up at the dark sky, bidding farewell to the last shreds of daylight. “My li’l sister Joelle calls this type’a thing spook weather,” he told his companions.
Auroras spun from horizon to horizon. Laser-thin, fulgu-rant streaks of light leapt from one clump of cloud to the next, hissing like snakes in boiling water. Standard, but remarkably potent, thunder and lightning flashed and boomed along the hills. So much static electricity hung in the atmosphere that Sam’s hair would have stood on end had it not been drenched with the humidity of the jungle. He wiped another puddle of sweat from the back of his neck, where it had collected inside the collar of his uniform. Next time I come to the Savage Land, he thought, I’m redesignin’ my uniform first.
“You have this kind of weather in Kentucky?” Iceman asked.
“We do when Storm gets a knot in her cape.”
“Ho ho ho,” Bobby replied sourly.
Sam’s cheeks flushed. “Aw, hell. Just trying to make y’all cheerful.” He cringed, wishing he knew how to purge his sense of humor of its juvenile edge. Their team leader had been awfully upset at the way Sauron had perverted her control of the weather. Not a good time to make her the butt of even the lightest of jokes.
His comrade shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I know how it goes.” Their glances met. They shared once again that strand of kinship that came from both having filled, at different times, the role of youngest X-Man on the team.
“This sky does remind me of home, y’know,” Sam added. “The clouds sweep over the Great Lakes and cover up the Appalachians from New York to Georgia. Some of those lightshows make you think y’got ghosts dancin’ from haystack to bam roof.”
‘ ‘You know, the aftereffects of this particular meteorological disruption provide us with unforeseen options,” the Beast stated. He waved at the swirling iridescence reflected in the stagnant pools surrounding them. Though the daylight was no more than a lingering background whisper of deep indigo and violet, they could easily make out the shapes of fronds, trees, logs, and the occasional hump of muddy land such as the one they were standing upon. “Do you see?” “See what?” Sam asked, scanning from branch to tree root, forehead wrinkling.
“I read you loud and clear,” Bobby said, in that quick way that had Cannonball feeling too young again. “There’s enough light to keep moving around by. It’s not black as a woman’s heart like it usually is at night in the Savage Land.’ ’ “Oh.” Sam nodded. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Black as a woman’s heart?”
Bobby pursed his lips. “Well. Black as some women’s hearts. Hank, are you saying you want to continue the search? We haven’t seen Amphibius’s green derriere in hours. These tracks here aren’t very fresh.” He pointed at their feet.
“That’s what I’m saying, for now,” Hank replied. “Another hour or two might prove a profitable investment. It was during a night search that Ororo stumbled across Sauron.
What better time to keep looking than while our enemies may be at their most active?”
Bobby sighed. “All right. Another hour or two. Then we’ll see.”
The Beast nodded, and raised his wrist radio to his mouth. “Beast to base. Do you read?”
A muted hiss came from the radio in response. Hank repeated his statement. Again, no one replied.
“Ill portents,” he muttered. “The EMP has run its course. That’s a clear signal coming at us. We should be hearing them.” He checked the code he’d entered. “Archangel? Ka-Zar? Shanna? Is there anybody out there?’ ’
Cannonball grew more and more antsy watching his big blue companion. “Somethin’ ain’t right. I’ll hightail it to Tongah’s village right now.”
“Cease and desist.” Hank’s raised voice snuffed Sam’s takeoff before it began. ‘ ‘Whatever happened, happened during the blackout. Stay, my young comrade. We need to consult.”
“Consult?” Sam asked. “I ain’t in the mood t’talk, Hank. Not when buddies are in trouble.”
The Beast raised one of his pawlike hands and set it firmly on Cannonball’s shoulder. “I empathize. This is an alarming development. But I’m the eldest of our little trio. Experience tells me we shouldn’t be rushing off. Do you trust me, Samuel?” ~ '
Cannonball blinked. Hank McCoy could be a serious fellow, but his question displayed an additional, almost funereal gravity.
“ ’Course I do.”
“Then trust me now. I’ve been getting the increasing sense we have been indulging in the wrong approach. It’s time to introduce a variable.”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“If you were Sauron, where would you expect the three of us to be right now?”
Sam hated Hank’s little quizzes. They reminded him of the tests Professor X used to give the New Mutants and Cable occasionally gave to the members of X-Force. Too many chances to get the answer wrong. “Uh, I guess I’d figure we'd be in one of two places: rushing back to the village, or still out here chasin’ Amphibius.”
“Correct.”
Sam was so startled at the approval in Hank’s voice that he laughed.
“We will be sure to be in neither place,” Hank continued. “I believe it’s already too late to help our comrades. It seems clear they’ve been captured. Or killed.”
“That’s not a conclusion I’d like to jump to, Hank,” Bobby said.
“Nevertheless, a likely one,” Hank said. “We can take heart in the fact that Sauron requires live mutants to feed off of, so at the very least, our teammates are probably alive, though not enjoying themselves overmuch. In any case, it also stands to reason we wouldn’t find them now anymore than we could locate Psylocke earlier. Sauron probably has them tucked out of sight by now. As for Amphibius, in light of this new information, I conclude that we’ve searched enough for him. Methinks it is tempting fate to loiter where others might expect to find us. That’s predictable. I don’t wish to be predictable.”
“Amen to that,” Cannonball said. “Cable was always warning us to hold on to the advantage of surprise. So, where do we go, and what do we do?”
“For a start, though the bog remains treacherous to navigate, I suggest we use this convenient augmentation of our supply of illumination to find a camping location away from the trail we’ve been dogging.” He gestured again at Am-phibius’s footprints. “After that, I think the prudent course is to dedicate ourselves to sustenance and recuperation.” “Wouldn’t mind a bite to eat,” Cannonball commented. “I’m hungry enough to eat one o’ them giant centipedes I tripped over a ways back. Not sure I could fall asleep out here, though.”
“True, but even a super powered mutant requires sleep to be at his best and cogitate properly,” Hank added. “I, for one, feel as though we’ve been out-thought ever since we arrived in this primordial theme park.”
“You said it,” Bobby declared. “Let’s go, then.” He froze a causeway from their little slab of land to the next, at right angles to the direction they’d been pursuing. They squeezed through a gap in a stand of cypress trees and then through a riot of giant cycads, Iceman thawing the pathway behind so as to erase their trail. Just as they were about to emerge from the umbrella of palmlike fronds, a huge sau-ropod body crossed right in front of them.
They peered upward. A beast with an extremely long neck and a tail to match reached high into the treetops, nibbling the fresh leaves it found there.
“Diplodocus,” Hank murmured. “Perhaps the longest dinosaur that ever trod the earth. Fourteen vertebrae in its neck. Forty-two in its tail. Not as heavy as brachiosaurus or seis-mosaurus, though.”
“It’s big enough,” said Cannonball. “One swipe of that tail would knock over a bus. I say we steer clear of that sucker.”
“Oh, it’s not one of the species we have to be terribly concerned over. Too ponderous. We’ll have abundant opportunity for evasion even if it takes an interest in us. ’Tis the velociraptors or the coelophysis packs that might take an excessive nibble out of us before we perceived we were under attack. Worse yet might be the bird-eating spiders or the bog vipers. Unique to the Savage Land, so there isn’t any antivenom available, and their toxins kill in minutes. Then there’s..
“Y’gonna tell me about the plants, too, ain’tcha?” Sam interrupted.
“Veritably. The flora here can be just as dangerous as the fauna. There are paralyzing nettles, razor bushes ...”
“I think I’ll send up a flare and let Sauron haul my butt off to his nice, safe dungeon.”
“That would be one way to find out where it is,” suggested Bobby.
“See? ’Tis not so unpleasant an abode, once you adjust to its idiosyncrasies,” the Beast said as Cannonball projected tiny bursts of his power at the haunch of dimetrodon that hung above their “firepit”—which contained no fire because they didn’t want flames and smoke to attract unwelcome guests, be they enemies or an inquisitive Tyrannosaurus rex.
The meat steamed, wafting puffs of, Sam had to concede, downright delicious aromas into the air. Hank ripped a strip of the cooked flesh loose and bit into it.
“Mmmm. Tastes just like iguana.”
Sam knelt down and cut a shred off the haunch. After the first swallow, he nodded. Not too bad. Hank was exaggerating, though. No way was this as good as iguana.
Easy to catch, though. The big, fin-backed lizard had wandered right into camp and chomped Cannonball’s arm— which, because he wrapped himself in his kinetic envelope, resulted in no damage other than to the predator’s teeth. Before it could scamper away, Iceman had frozen the arteries in its brain. Instant stroke.
Boy, would that tick ol' Stegron off. Cannonball hoped that ugly mini-Godzilla wasn’t still stomping around the Savage Land, demanding voting rights for reptilians everywhere.
A mosquito speared Sam’s cheek. He slapped, but not before the critter had done some damage. He regarded the bright spot of his own blood in his palm, mingled with the black shreds of the insect. He could feel the welt rising beside where his sideburns would be if he had any. What was that, the three hundredth insect bite tonight?
“Can y’all do something about this?” he complained. The Beast, protected by his thick mat of blue fur, shrugged. Iceman aimed a finger and froze the three or four pests nearest Sam’s face.
Dozens more took their place, whining for his hemoglobin. “Thank you very much,” Cannonball said in his most exaggerated, ya-dumb-Yankee drawl. “I could jus’ blast ’em myself if I wanted to go after ’em one by one.”
“Do forebear, young sir,” the Beast said. “Your mutant power usually lacks the degree of silence we require.” Bobby scratched his chin thoughtfully. “We do need a solution, though. I’m going to have to give up my ice form in order to eat. As soon as I do, they’ll swarm all over me as well.”
“Your selflessness is an inspiration to us all,” Hank declared. He waved a piece of reptile steak. “I have it. Build us an igloo, my good man.”
Bobby nodded. “All right. I guess I have enough juice left. It wears a guy out having to freeze swamp water and quicksand all day long, I’ll have you know.” He waved his hands, fashioning blocks of ice into a domed hut. The water level of the nearby pond dropped momentarily, until replaced
by brackish flows from farther out in the bog.
“Shucks, you froze some salamanders into th' walls,” Sam said.
“You want perfection?” Iceman said. “Make your own ice cubes in the middle of a sweltering jungle with nothing but scummy marsh water to pour in the tray.”
“Amphibians do well in suspended animation,” Hank said. He picked up the cooked slab of meat and crawled into the structure. Iceman followed. Cannonball came last, covering the entrance with a blanket from his pack. A cloud of mosquitoes came in with him, but succumbed to the cold. Sam felt no remorse as he scrambled over their frosted little corpses. Salamanders, he could pity. Even dimetrodons. But blood-sucking little pests went in the same trash bin with certain evil mutants he could name.
The glow from the Beast’s battery-powered camp minilantern turned the interior of the igloo into a cozy genie bottle. They spread their microthin all-weather blankets over the ground and things grew downright homey. Except for the cold, of course, but stoking up the thermal filaments in his uniform was enough to take care of Sam. Hank had his natural insulation, and Bobby never seemed bothered by cold even in his human form.
“Ah, the rustic life,” Hank exclaimed. “Doesn’t it make you gratified to be a part of this mortal existence?”
“Y’mean, happy to be alive?” Cannonball asked.
“ ‘Happy’? Mr. Guthrie, how can you choose such an anemic adjective? Fulfilled, replete, placated beyond measure— these are the sorts of modifiers such a venue as this deserves.”
“Exactly what place are y’talkin’ about? This exact patch’a frozen muck, or the Savage Land in gen’ral?”
The Beast scowled. “Don’t be dense, my boy. Of course the plot of earth on which we sit leaves a modicum to be desired
. I mean all this untamed glory.” Hank’s talons almost brushed the low ceiling of the igloo, but his expansive gesture whispered of everything from the depths of the Savage Land’s central lake to the ridges of the Eternity Mountains that surrounded it. “The totality of Ka-Zar’s realm.” “/ know what Hank means,” Bobby said around a mouthful of food. “He’s saying a big, hairy blue guy like him feels right at home among these giant feathered theropods and dragonflies as long as his arms. He doesn’t have to put up with cute society chicks refusing to go to the movies with a dude that looks like he files his teeth.”
“You slay me, old comrade,” Hank said. “You mock my sincere respect for this magnificent preserve. True, I experience less alienation here, but do recall, I still had my human appearance the first two times we visited. Yet I was equally enamored of the setting on both those occasions.”
“Phew, does that take me back,” Iceman said. “I was so young I still had zits.”
“The days of the original X-Men?” Cannonball asked. “No Ororo? No Logan?”
“Just the five of us. Pre-Champions, pre-Defenders, pre-X-Factor. Before Hank defected to the Avengers. Jean, Scott, Warren, Hank, and me. And Professor X, of course, but he usually stayed in the mansion.”
“He certainly did not venture to the Savage Land the way the rest of us did,” the Beast said. “As a matter of fact, when we made that second jaunt, the one in pursuit of Sauron, we were under the mistaken impression that the good Professor was cold in his grave.”
“Well, not all of us. Jean knew it was really the Changeling we buried in that cemetery. The Professor had a big mission that required total concentration—beating the
Z’Nox. So he left us on our own. It was our initiation, I guess. We were getting older. We’d been through some trials by fire. He wanted to see how we’d get along without him to hold our hands.”
“And y’did okay, from what I’ve been told,” Sam said. “Didn’t feel that way to me. We got in over our heads more than once. The Sentinels really whipped our butts. Magneto gave us grief. Funny thing was, Magneto was supposed to be just as dead as Xavier.”
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