by Lin Carter
“Well, then, let them come,“said Tharn in a level voice, “and we shall see what we shall see.”
He turned toward his warriors.
“Warriors of Thandar,“he said in clear and ringing tones, “we have come into this region to rescue the gomad, my daughter, from her brutish and cowardly captors. Those who attack from ambush and steal our women are before you! They are no less mortal than are you, and their flesh may be pierced with sharpened stone as easily as can your own. But they are not true men, and are hence your inferiors, closer to the bestial than are you: prove, therefore, once and for all time, which is the superior-the Apemen of Kor, or the true men of Thandar!”
Even as the Omad ceased speaking, a chorus of grunting, cries reached our ears, and hulking figures burst from the underbrush, waddling on thick, hairy, bowed legs toward our lines.
And the battle began!
Jorn and the Professor stared skyward at Darya, who suddenly vanished from their view. The enormous form of the mighty omodon also turned from view, leaving the two watchers in ignorance of the fate of the Cro-Magnon girl.
“Do you see a way up the cliff?” inquired Professor Potter, anxiously.
Jorn the Hunter searched the cliff face with keen eyes, and shook his head reluctantly.
“The ledge which Darya seems to have been following ends shortly past the shelf on which she was attacked by the omodon,“he said in grimly solemn tones.
“What, then, shall we do?“inquired the Professor, reluctant to give up, although it seemed a hopeless quest.
“There!”
The sharp eyes of the Hunter had spied a crevice in the clifflike wall of stone. It was a ravine, narrow as a man, which seemed to penetrate the mountain to some depth.
“Is it a pass through the mountains to the other side, do you think, or an entrance into the mountain itself?” inquired the Professor. “Do you think the mountain is hollow?”
Jorn shook his head, blond mane tousling.
“One cave does not a hollow mountain make,“he said. “Still and all, we shall not know the truth of it until we trace the ravine to its end. Come-”
And the Cro-Magnon youth turned on his heel and vanished into the dark and narrow crevice, leaving the Professor to follow as best he could.
Chapter 22. THE THUNDER-WEAPON
As the mighty cave bear came down upon her, Darya hurled a handful of pebbles to her right. They clattered noisily against the stone shelf of the ledge.
Its small eyes half-blinded by the sudden emergence from the darkness of the cave into the eternal day of Zanthodon, the huge beast swung clumsily in the direction from which that clattering sound had come,-massive paws reaching.
In that split-second, as the beast turned its side to her, Darya acted!
Since there was nowhere to go but back the way she had come or into the black mouth of the cave bear’s lair, she chose the second route.
In a moment the darkness of the cave swallowed her. The ragged stone roof was low, forcing the lithe girl to bend almost double as she penetrated the interior of the cave. The stench of the bear’s droppings was overpowering, but Darya gulped air and forced herself to go on. This cave might well prove to be a dead end, but the girl would never know until she discovered the fact for herself.
Beyond the lair of the omodon, she found a very small passage which only one as slim and limber as herself could possibly negotiate. But once through it, the cavern opened to such a height that she could walk erect, although the darkness was utter and absolute.
Extending her arms so that she could feel for any obstruction before her, the Cro-Magnon girl explored the length of the cave. At its end, she found a side-tunnel which sloped sharply downward. Since she had nothing at all to lose by being venturesome, she began to trace the steeply sloping path.
It had been many hours since the girl had drunk or eaten or enjoyed a normal and restful slumber, and she was trembling with exertion and fatigue, and ferociously hungry. But the women of the Stone Age learn quite early on to endure such privations as they must, and Darya bravely closed her mind to the ache in her weary muscles, the thirst which dried her throat, and the hunger which gnawed at her belly.
From the moment she had slain the uld everything had gone wrong, she thought to herself as she went down the steep incline in utter gloom. If only she had remained in the clearing with Jorn and the old man!
If only someone brave and strong and resourceful were here with her, to share the danger and to comfort her in the darkness … if only the handsome stranger, Eric Carstairs, were here … .
Resolutely, the Cro-Magnon princess wrenched her thoughts from such matters, and applied herself to the problems at hand.
Caverns such as this were not entirely unknown to her experience. In her distant homeland, caves were found in the sides of the hills and mountains, and the Stone Age princess knew that at times they were the homes of fearsome creatures, like the xunth, the giant serpents which infest the interior of the earth, or the vathrib, the dreadful albino spiders of the abyss.
Darya had no reason to suspect that such terrible creatures dwelt here in the mountains beyond the jungle country. On the other hand, she had no cause to think that they did not. Whichever the truth of the matter be, there was nothing else for her to do but to continue that terrible journey through the utter darkness of the mountain’s interior.
To go back, to retrace her steps until she reentered the lair of the omodon, was sure and certain death.
But to continue on forward offered her, at very least, a chance of survival.
So she went forward … into the unknown.
The howling mob of Neanderthal warriors burst from the edges of the jungle and charged, swinging the stone axes and jabbing their crude spears, upon the massed ranks of the Cro-Magnons.
Twangg! went the Cro-Magnon bows, and the hulking Apemen went down squalling, plucking feebly at the vibrant, feathered shafts which protruded from their breasts.
Again they charged, yowling, and this time the spearmen who stood above and behind the kneeling
archers bent their powerful shoulders and arms, loosening upon the shambling horde their long, flint-bladed javelins.
And again the Apemen fell, coughing blood, some pinned to the turf by the force with which the spears had been thrown.
As the survivors fled back into the jungle, Uruk, from a safe place behind the bole of a mighty tree, growled menacingly. He had not before faced the warriors of Thandar in open battle, preferring the less dangerous tactics of ambush and sudden raid. And now he had an inkling of why Xask had heretofore persuaded him to avoid an open conflict, which had hitherto agreed with his own inclinations.
“Circle around them, Uruk, and strike from several sides at the same times,“suggested his vizier from a similar place of safety and concealment. “Remember, they have only a limited number of spears and arrows. Once expended, their supplies of weaponry cannot easily be replaced. At that time, it will be man against man, axe against axe, strength against brute strength. And in any such contest, the warriors of Kor are bound to triumph, for they are stronger and heavier than are the men of Thandar!”
This made good sense to the dull-witted Uruk, so the High Chief passed his grunting commands along and soon the battle began again upon that level plain under the eternal day.
“We cannot maintain this rate of expenditure,“said Tharn to his chieftains. “The Drugars vastly outnumber us, and we have no way to replenish our arrows, once the supply we brought hither from Thandar has been exhausted.”
“What do you suggest, my Omad?“asked Goran, one of the chieftains. “Should we break ranks and attack the Drugars in hand-to-hand combat?”
“That were suicidal,“pointed out another of the chieftains, one Dumah. “For they are weightier than we, and mightier of limb. Still and all, it may be the only way to victory … ”
Thus far in the battle, the warriors of Thandar had lost only a few lives, while inflicting heavy losses upon
the Apemen of Kor. And Tharn was reluctant to waste his strength against the shambling horde.
“We shall see what happens,“he growled. “After the next charge … and here they come!”
Hurok and I had fought beside the warriors of Thandar, and each of us had inflicted losses upon the enemy. I have no way of knowing what thoughts passed through the mind of my massive friend as he battled against his former compatriots, but I can imagine the emotions that stirred in his breast.
As for myself, I did not bother to waste the few bullets which remained to me, but employed a longbow I had taken from one of the slain Cro-Magnons. The weapon was cruder than those I had heretofore used in idle sport, but the skills I had learned in former days stood me well in the battle against the
Neanderthals. More than one shaft loosed from my bow sank to the feather in the hairy breasts of a subhuman primitive.
When the next charge struck, it became instantly obvious to us all that Uruk was gambling his entire strength upon the chance of overwhelming our force. For he himself led the charge: too wary to expose himself to our bows, he had waited until our arrows were all but exhausted, before charging roaring in the vanguard, hoping to reap the victory.
And in truth we were almost out of arrows, and as for the spearsmen, their supply of javelins were very nearly depleted. And thus the defense disintegrated into a melee, as it became a hand-to-hand battle, with every man for himself.
And now the primitive Neanderthals had us at the disadvantage, for when it came to hand-to-hand battle, they were larger and stronger and very much heavier than we.
Amid the melee, I noticed a sudden trembling of the earth beneath our feet. I was swinging a stone axe in the very teeth of one of the Apemen, at the time. Splitting his ugly face in half and wrenching the stone blade of the axe free, I turned as the earth shook
To see a fearsome sight!
I seized Tharn by the shoulder, as we fought side by side.
“Break and run for the trees!“I yelled in his ear. He stared uncomprehendingly, then followed the direction of my gaze and blanched.
Bellowing his command, he broke and ran for shelter, as did most of the well-disciplined Cro-Magnon warriors.
The Neanderthals, their blood-lust roused by now, paid little attention, continuing to fight as long as a Thandarian stood before them to be slain. But when the line of defenders melted away in all directions, they turned bewilderedly.
“They flee!“howled Uruk, triumphantly. “We have won!”
As it happened, he stood directly in my path, the High Chief of the Apemen of Kor. And as I ran for shelter, he spied me and his little eyes gleamed. Leaping into my path, he attempted to brain me with one swing of his apelike arms.
I was, at the moment, unarmed, my spear having broken off short in the burly chest of the last Neanderthal I had slain and my arrows expended. But the automatic which Hurok had restored to me was still thrust within the waistband of my tattered shorts, and my hand went instinctively to the butt of the pistol as the immense form of Uruk loomed up before me, glee and blood-lust burning in his little eyes.
Then his gaze fell to the object in my fist, and his expression faltered. He recognized it from One-Eye’s description as the terrible, thunder-weapon. Sudden fear distorted big ugly visage, and he sought to hurl himself upon me before I could employ its magic against him.
I put a bullet through his brain.
The explosion seemed oddly loud-deafening! Arrested by the sudden noise, the Apemen paused, faltering. They wrinkled up their nostrils at the sharp, bitter, unfamiliar stench of gunpowder.
Uruk fell at my very feet as if struck down by some invisible force. Puzzled, his warriors looked him over, but their dim little eyes were not keen enough to discern the small, black-rimmed bullet-hole between his eyes. It must have seemed to the ghost-ridden and superstitious minds of the primitives that their mighty Chief had been felled by the force of magic!
Howling, they sprang away from me, clearing my path, and I seized the opportunity to sprint for the shelter of the trees, while the hulking savages milled in confusion, their dull wits striving to ascertain what had felled their leader.
Now One-Eye leaped forward, snatched the fang necklace of the High Chief from about the thick, hairy throat of the carcass and clasped it about his own neck. The others blinked at him, dully.
“The panjani flee!“he yowled, spreading wide his heavy, ape-like arms, brandishing his stone axe. “Fall upon them now, brave men of Kor, and slay them all!”
But still the earth shook and there sounded from the midst of the plain a drumming as of distant thunder coming near and nearer. One-Eye growled and cast a suspicious glance out into the flat land.
And at what he saw there, his face turned pale as milk beneath its coating of dirt and pelt of russet fur-!
Chapter 23. THUNDERING DOOM!
Blinking with dazed relief in the sudden brilliance of day, Darya emerged from a cleft in the rock at the further side of the Peaks of Peril, gazing about her tremulously.
The cavern had indeed bisected the bulk of the mountain, and now the jungle girl stepped forth into the clean air and warm daylight, thankful to have escaped from the monsters of the mountain peaks.
She was weary and hungry and dirty and dishevelled, but she was also unharmed. Before her stretched a narrow strip of beach washed by the salty waves of the Sogar-Jad. A small stream of fresh water wound its way down the slope to mingle with the sea, and it was fringed on either side with dense bushes.
Glimpsing the gurgling little brook, the Cro-Magnon girl was suddenly mindful of her sorry condition.
Dried blood from the carcass of the uld she had slain covered her back and shoulders, and her hands and arms and legs were filthy from crawling through black, noisome caves.
She paused and looked about her at the sloping ground, the narrow stretch of sandy beach, and the misty waters of the Sogar-Jad, which could be glimpsed shining through the interstices of the tall, fronded calamites which rose beside the prehistoric sea. Nowhere in view did the girl discern the slightest sign of animal or of human life, nor did aught her keen senses could detect suggest to her the presence of danger.
With a small sigh of relief, the weary girl unfastened her abbreviated garments of soiled, bedraggled fur, and cast them aside. For a moment she stood slim and naked at the edge of the little stream. Then she stepped daintily into the gurgling waters, waded out to the middle, and began to wash her beautiful young body.
The cold, pure water stung the many small cuts and abrasions on her arms, legs and knees, got from climbing through the stony caverns in the heart of the mountain. She splashed the chill water on her perfect breasts and scrubbed the dust and filth from her smooth thighs, sleek rounded calves and supple flanks, using handfulls of sand from the river-bottom in lieu of soap to scrub the stain of travel from her glowing flesh.
The icy wetness of her bath revived the flagging spirits of the Cro-Magnon princess and refreshed her weary and aching limbs. Floating on her back, she relaxed blissfully, enjoying her respite from exertion and danger.
That it might be only a momentary respite did not escape her thoughts; alas, it was to be even more brief than she could have guessed ….
As she relaxed, letting the cold waters of the gurgling stream lave! and refresh her naked limbs, the young Cro-Magnon girl permitted her mind to drift back over the adventures and perils where-through she had so recently passed.
She wondered what had become of Jorn the Hunter and of the querulous, waspish old man from the Upper World … and her thoughts dwelt for a time on his tall, strong comrade with the crisp black hair and clear and steady gray eyes … did Eric Carstairs yet live, or had he succumbed to one or another of the numberless monsters of Zanthodon?
She rather hoped that somehow he had survived the many hazards of the wilderness … although it did not seem likely to her that she should ever set eyes upon him again.
Busied with her memories, letting the gu
shing river water drain the weariness and aching fatigue from her lithe young body, the girl dreamed lazily there, unmindful of the sharp, gloating eyes that lingered on her naked legs, sleek thighs and perfect young breasts.
From the concealment of the bushes which fringed the edges of the stream, a tall and curiously clad form crouched, staring at Darya through the leaves as she innocently bared her nude beauty amid the clear water.
The first sign she had that she was not alone came as swarthy hands clutched her bare shoulder and she turned to stare up into a cruel, grinning, bearded face.
And she screamed As One-Eye turned to seek the source of that peculiar drumming thunder which caused the earth to shake, fear suddenly smote him to the heart and the power of speech deserted his frozen tongue.
The stone axe he had clenched in his hairy hand now dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers as the Apeman flinched in unholy terror from that which he saw bearing down upon him upon the plain.
A long, moving mass of dark, lumbering forms, veiled in rising dust, with the scarlet of crackling flames behind them, goading them on!
Like moving mountains they were, like walking hills of dark russet fur, their sail-like ears flapping, trunks lifted to give voice to shrill squeals of sheer panic, and the daylight gleamed dimly on their fantastic, curling tusks.
His tongue frozen with shock, all One-Eye could do to warn his fellows was to extend one trembling arm and point with numb and shaking fingers.
But from their secure niche behind the trees, Xask and Fumio saw his gesture. They had lurked here in safety, permitting the Drugars to charge the warriors of Thandar … and now they were doubly glad they had not ventured forth from the security of the jungle’s edge.
By this time, all of the Cro-Magnon warriors had reached the safety of the woods, and there were none left upon the shallow little sandy knoll but the dead and some two score or more of the victorious Drugars of Kor who had survived this Stone Age version of Custer’s Last Stand. Demoralized by the inexplicable death of their High Chief, confused by the sudden flight of their enemies, the hulking Neanderthal men milled about, and only a few saw what the speechless OneEye was pointing at.