The Buccaneers of Venus Collection (Three novels in one volume!) (15 page)

    Some time later—Vernia judged it to be about midday—the boat lurched violently, then settled down to a familiar, rolling motion that vividly reminded her of her trip with Grandon in the fragile toadstool.

    Toward evening Tholto ordered half of the men on deck while the others redoubled their efforts at the paddles. In a few moments the keel grated sharply on gravel and the lurching ceased. Tholto threw Vernia over his shoulder as if she had been a sack of sabit food and carried her up on the bank while another of the men followed with Rotha.

    The crew speedily unloaded, then dragged the lightened craft high on the bank. A fire was started in the lee of the rocky cliffs, and two of the men who had gone in search of meat returned with a large pink lizard which was cut up and roasted over the flames.

    The cliff behind them was honeycombed with natural caves. Tholto chose the largest and best situated of these for himself, the next best for his men.

    While the evening meal was being prepared, moss was gathered for couches by some, while others went in search of roots to make Zavorian wine. When the men had eaten their fill Tholto undid the bonds of both girls and ordered them to serve the kova. For cups they were provided with the shells of large bivalves. Rotha complied meekly, but Vernia refused with flashing eyes.

    Tholto laughed. "I will tame you. Your lessons will start tonight."

    Binding her hands and feet once more, despite her struggles, he carried her into the dark cave and threw her on the floor.

    "Now lie there and reflect on the folly of resistance. Much good wine is being consumed, and I would not miss it. I will return presently, and if you so much as utter a whisper of protest you will learn why strong men fear the wrath of Tholto."

    Many of the marsh-men had not tasted liquor for years, each man's abstinence dating from the time he had been captured by sabits. Small wonder, then, that they called for more and more. Tholto might have drunk to excess with the rest, had not other pleasures beckoned. As it was, he took only enough to intoxicate him slightly, then walked unsteadily into the cave where he had left Vernia bound and helpless.

    Grandon's left arm was pinned to his body in the grip of powerful jaws that would have cut him in two had it not been for his armor, but the right arm was free; and drawing his sword, he plunged it again and again into the leathery throat.

    He held his breath until it seemed that his lungs would burst, but the pressure of those jaws did not relax, and he prayed that his blade might find a vital spot before it was too late.

    To his surprise, the water suddenly drained from his helmet and he tasted air. It was dank, foul air, charged with the offensive odor of putrefied flesh, but at that moment as welcome to his bursting lungs as a balmy, sweet-scented zephyr from a fern forest.

    The monster ground its teeth ineffectually against Grandon's armor for a moment, then dropped him on a slimy floor and, putting its huge claw on his chest, gave vent to a horrible, gurgling roar.

    The creature continued its disconsolate roaring, which was intensified a hundredfold by ringing, cavernous echoes, and Grandon noticed that with each roar the gurgling sound seemed more pronounced and the vocal tones grew weaker. Slowly the weight on his chest relaxed—slowly the creature sunk over on its side.

    With a quick jerk he rolled from under the mighty claw in time to avoid the convulsive death struggles of the monster.

    Taking his small flashlight from its pouch, Grandon surveyed the scene about him.

    The lair of the great sightless carnivore was an arched cavern which ended at the water's edge in front of him and appeared to connect with a series of other caverns behind. As it was impossible for him to return under water the way he had come, Grandon turned his footsteps toward the caverns in the rear.

    As he journeyed on and on through that intricate maze of dark, damp, dismal caves, it seemed that they only led him deeper into the bowels of the planet. Moisture dripped constantly from a thousand pendent, crystalline points overhead; presently, however, the floor slanted upward, the dripping ceased, and the puddles disappeared.

    Quite suddenly and unexpectedly he emerged on the bank of a large stream. It looked like the one in which he had been plunged some time before, but he could not be certain.

    What was that? Could it be that he saw a human being moving slowly along the bank apparently plucking and eating small fungus growths? And there, farther on, was another, and yet another, until only a short distance from where he stood the bank literally swarmed with them.

    The creatures paid, no attention whatever to his flashlight. He turned it directly on the one nearest him and gasped in astonishment. It was manlike in form, but a grotesque caricature of the genus homo. It had long, bony webbed fingers and toes armed with sharp claws. The smooth, hairless skin was a mottled silvery gray in color, like that of a mackerel. But the face—Grandon was positive he had never seen anything so hideous in all his Zarovian wanderings.

    It consisted, in front, of a broad, flat nose, and a mouth filled with huge ratlike teeth, and was minus chin, eyes or forehead. The hairless pate slanted straight back from the root of the nose and up from the base of the neck, ending in a conical point at the back. The ears were human in form, but easily four times as large as the aural appendages of any man Grandon had ever seen, and the creature kept them constantly in motion, presumably for the purpose of guarding against prowling enemies, or locating prey which it obviously could not see.

    A stealthy sound behind him caused Grandon to wheel suddenly. There, not three feet from him, stood a creature similar to the one he had been watching. It sniffed the air in his direction for a moment with ears cocked sharply forward, then raised its head and uttered a long, mournful, wailing shriek.

    Before he could sense the import of that cry he was surrounded by a chattering, excited group of creatures, seemingly materialized from the darkness around him. Grandon drew his sword and awaited the first act of hostility from that narrowing circle.

    To his surprise, they made no move to attack him, but seemed only curious. One, a trifle bolder than the rest, reached out long bony fingers and touched his armor, then made a queer, cackling noise. Others, emboldened by the experiment of their comrade, pawed him over in turn, while the caverns rang with the echoes of their cackling.

    Grandon grew tired of being manhandled, and attempted to push the things away from him with outstretched arms. They were apparently harmless, and he had not the heart to use his sword on them. He learned his mistake too late, for they took this movement as a sign of hostility, and a dozen of them pounced on him, bearing him to the floor, where, pinned beneath their combined weight, he could scarcely lift a finger.

    Then, above the shrieking and chattering of his captors, he heard the familiar click of paddles against the metal sides of a boat. A bright beam of light flashed over him.

    "Oro!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "To the rescue, Oro!"

    Once more the rays of the searchlight played on the struggling mass of creatures. It hung there. A hoarse command sounded simultaneously with the noise of hollow metal scraping on stone. Then there was the clank of armored men running, followed by the sound of blows and unearthly shrieks of anguish. Two stalwart marsh-men helped Grandon to his feet as the last of his captors fled off, howling in dismay.

    There was a brief but joyous reunion of commander and men on the bank, which was rudely broken into by a shower of missiles from out of the darkness, hurled with uncanny accuracy. Nearly every man in the company was struck, and several were bowled over, though their armor protected them from serious injury.

    Grandon ordered everyone aboard, as he had no stomach for useless slaughter, and felt pity rather than animosity toward the sightless, feeble-minded creatures that had attacked him.

    For some time after they pushed away from the shore, stones continued to rattle against the boat and splash in the water about it, but on rounding a curve in the stream the shower of missiles ceased and they saw no more of the strange creatures who hurled them.

    An hour later they emerged from beneath a perpendicular cliff into broad daylight, shot a swift rapids, and proceeded on a beautiful, sparkling stream, dotted with verdant islets and flanked on either side by the great salt marshes.

    The ocean breeze kept cane brakes constantly in motion, producing an odd, rattling sound that had a peculiar, depressing effect on Grandon. It seemed that these weeds were conspiring against him, as other forces had conspired, to keep Vernia from him. It was a relief when, toward evening, they reached the ocean coast and landed for a short time to give the men a chance to stretch their cramped muscles and steep some liquor.

    While they built a fire of dried reeds and prepared the roots, Grandon and Oro explored the coast for some distance southward without finding any sign of those whom they sought. They accordingly had four of the men paddle them across the mouth of the river and traversed the coastline to the north for several miles. Both were hurrying along, looking for signs of a camp or a cooking fire, when the sharp-eyed Oro suddenly uttered an exclamation of surprise and ran down to the water's edge. Lying on the sand where it had been deposited by the breakers was an empty food sack.

    "They came this way in the boat," he exclaimed.

    They hurried back to the camp, and, after a hasty meal, embarked northward. The sudden, inky darkness of Venus descended before they had gone far, and the wind rose, making coastwise travel exceedingly difficult. Toward midnight they sighted a flickering light ahead. On coming closer they saw a large campfire surrounded by recumbent figures and, in silhouette, the curved, serpentine prow of an Albine boat.

    After silently beaching their craft a little way from the camp, they deployed in a semicircle, then charged. To their infinite surprise they met with no resistance. The twenty sleeping men on the ground about the fire did not move a muscle.

    Oro comprehended the situation at a glance. "Too much kova."

    "But the girls," asked Grandon, "where are they? And where is Tholto?"

    His question was partly answered by the sudden appearance of Rotha from the entrance of a nearby cave. With a smothered cry of thanksgiving she flung herself into the strong arms of Oro, who swung her off her feet in his exuberance of joy.

    "Where is Vernia?" asked Grandon. "Tell me quickly—is she safe?"

    Rotha hesitated as if fearful that he would strike her for her answer. "She is in that cave—with Tholto."

    The cave she indicated was a short distance from the one she had just vacated. Grandon swung his spiked club free and, snatching a blazing brand from the fire, entered, followed by Oro and several others.

    A solitary figure sat, cross-legged in the middle of the floor. It was Tholto. He waited their coming with bowed head.

    "What have you done with her, false friend?" demanded Grandon.

    Tholto removed his helmet and cast it to the floor.

    "Kill me, Grandon of Terra," he said sadly, in a tone totally unlike that of Tholto the braggart. "I bare my head to a just executioner. I am not fit to live."

    "Answer my question, accursed slave. Where is our Torrogina?"

    "I do not know. I left her here for a short time while I went for a drink or two of wine. When I returned she was gone. My head was reeling from the drink when I entered. Many years have passed since I tasted liquor and I over estimated my capacity. I sank to the floor and dreamed a horrible dream in which I saw her torn to pieces by a huge animal. She is dead—dead, and I am the cause."

    "The fool is drunk," said Oro. "Pay no attention to his ravings. She is probably concealed somewhere nearby."

    After binding Tholto and setting a man to guard him, they searched the cave, calling loudly to Vernia, but there was no reply. Rotha was positive that she had not left the cave previous to Tholto's entrance, as the mouth was only a few steps from the place where she had served drinks to the men, and she could not have missed seeing her.

    Grandon's attention was attracted by a yawning hole about three feet in diameter, which had previously escaped his observation, as it was partly concealed by a section of jutting rock. He substituted a torch for the nearly consumed fire brand and entered on hands and knees followed by Oro. The opening grew larger as they progressed, until they could stand erect.

    Presently they emerged in the open air. They were in a fern forest, not more than a hundred feet from the camp, having come completely through the hill that screened it from the coast.

    Oro stooped and, with a muttered exclamation, picked up some strips which had been torn from a sack and knotted together.

    "She came this way," he said, excitedly, "for here are the strips with which Tholto bound her."

    His words were followed by a cry of horror from Grandon which brought Oro to his side.

    "The dream of Tholto," he said, brokenly. "It is a reality. Look!"

    On the ground before them was a pool of freshly congealed blood. Beside it lay a small Albine gauntlet—the gauntlet of Vernia!

    As Grandon sorrowfully retraced his steps followed by the horrified Oro, he pressed the little Albine gauntlet to his lips. With a dazed feeling of unreality he sat down before the fire. All night long he sat there, staring at the licking flames, unmindful of what went on around him.

    Tholto and his stupefied companions, disarmed and bound by Grandon's men, lay in a long row under the watchful eyes of four guards. The others slept, with the exception of Oro, who sat across the fire with Rotha, replenishing it from time to time. The two conversed in awed whispers, speculating on the possible fate of the culprits.

    The dawn found Grandon gazing at a heap of smoking embers. His four weary guards wakened their slumbering companions and lay down for a well-earned rest. The stupefied drinkers slept on, oblivious of the sounds that went on about them, as the awakened men prepared the simple breakfast of hot roots and stewed mushrooms.