1 - Warriors of Mars (11 page)

It seemed that, like hyaena, the
heelas were strong but cowardly. I thanked providence for this trait, at any
rate!

Now the air grew colder—we had
been travelling for well over a month—and the skies darker. We began to cross a
vast plain of black mud and obsidian rock, stunted, sinister shrubs and ancient
ruins. The feet of our single dahara splashed in deep puddles or waded through
oozing mud, slipped on the glassy rock or stumbled over great areas of broken
masonry.

I asked Darnad if these were the
ruins of the Sheev but he muttered that he did not think so.

"I suspect that these ruins
were once inhabited by the Yaksha," he said.

I shivered as cold rain fell on
us.

"Who were the Yaksha?"

"It is said they are ancient
enemies of the Sheev but originally of the same race."

"That is all you know?"

"Those are the only facts.
The rest is superstition and speculation." He seemed to shudder inwardly,
not from the cold but from some idea that had occurred to him.

On we went, making slower and
slower progress over that dark wasteland, taking shelter at night— scarcely
distinguishable though it was from day!—under half-fallen walls or outcrops of
rock. Strange, livid beasts prowled that plain; peculiar cries like the voices
of lost souls; queer disturbances that we felt rather than heard or saw.

It was like that for another two
weeks until the looming crags of Argzoon became visible through the dim, misty
light of the Wastes of Doom.

The Mountains of Argzoon were tall
and jagged, black and forbidding.

"Seeing their
environment," I said to Darnad, "I can understand why the Argzoon are
what they are, for such landscapes are not conducive to instilling a sense of
sweetness and light into one."

"I agree," he replied.
Then a little later: "We should reach the Gates of Gor Delpus before
nightfall."

"What are they?"

"The
entrance to the Caves of Darkness.
They are, I've been told, never
guarded, for few have ever dared venture into the Argzoon's own underground
land—they let our normal fear of dark, enclosed spaces do their work for
them."

"Are the Caves very dangerous?"

"I do not know," he
said. "No one has ever returned to tell..."

By nightfall we made out the Gates
by means of Deimos's very dim moonlight. They were mainly natural cave-mouths
widened and made taller by crude workmanship. They were dark and gloomy and I
could understand what Darnad had told me.

Only my mission—to rescue the
woman I loved but would never be able to make mine—would induce me to enter.

We left our faithful dahara
outside to fend for
himself
until we returned—if ever
we should.

And then we entered the Caves of
Darkness.

THEY were cold, those caves. A chill pervaded them greater
than anything we had experienced on the Wastes of Doom.

Down and down we went, along a
smooth, broad, winding track that had torches lighting it at wide intervals. We
caught glimpses of vast grottos and caverns, as it were within the great
caverns; of stalactites and stalagmites; of jumbled, black rock and rivulets of
ice-cold water; of a bitter-smelling slime that clung to the rocks; of small,
pallid animals that scuttled away at our approach.

And deeper down the sides of the
path had been decorated with trophies of war—here a skeleton of an Argzoon in
full armor, with sword, shield, spear and axe, grinning down at us from its great
height; there several human skulls piled into a rough pyramid. Dark trophies,
brought alive sometimes by the flickering torchlight, but fitting decoration
for this strange place.

Then at length we felt the path
turn sharply to the left. Following it round, we suddenly came upon a monstrous
cave, its walls so far away they were invisible. We stood above it, looking
down. The path led to it, we could see, twisting down for perhaps two miles.
Huge fires flared at intervals on the floor of the cave and there were complete
villages dotted across it. Fairly close to our side of the cave there was a
stone city—a city that seemed piled on blocks of stone heaped almost
haphazardly one upon the other.
A heavy city, a cold, strong,
bleak city.
A city to suit the Argzoon.

Moving about in the city and the
surrounding villages, we saw Argzoon men, women and children going about their
business. There were also pens of dahara and some sort of small creature that
seemed to be a domestic version of the heela.

"How can we get in
there?" I whispered to Darnad. "They will realize who we are
immediately!"

Just then I heard a noise behind
us and pulled him into the shadows of the rock.

A few moments later a group of
some thirty Argzoon warriors stumbled past. They looked as if they had been
through an ordeal. Many bore untreated wounds, others had had their armor
almost completely cut to shreds, and all were weary.

I realized that these were
probably survivors of the 'mopping up' operation instituted from Varnal the day
we had left.

That was another reason why we
should not expose ourselves! The Argzoon would enjoy taking vengeance on
members of the race that had defeated them.

But these warriors were too tired
even to notice us. They just staggered on down the twisting path towards the
cavern world, where the great bonfires crackled and attempted to heat and light
the place with little success.

We could not wait for nightfall
here, for it was perpetual night! How could we reach the city and discover
where Shizala was imprisoned?

There was nothing for it but to
begin creeping down the path, keeping to the shadows as best we could, hoping
that the Argzoon would be too busy with their own affairs, treating their
wounded, assessing their strength and so on, to notice us.

Not once did either of us think of
returning to find help. It seemed too late for that. We must rescue Shizala
ourselves. But then it occurred to me! Who else knew where Shizala was held?
Who else
  
had
  
all
  
the
  
information
  
concerning
  
the Argzoon that we had? The answer was plain—none. When we had gone a
little distance I turned to Darnad and said bluntly: "You must go
back."

"Go back? Are you mad?"

"No—I'm perfectly sane for
once. Don't you realize that if we are both killed in this attempt, then there
can be no further attempts to save Shizala— for what we know will die with
us!
"

"I had not thought of
that," he mused. "But why should I go back? You go. I will try to
..."

"No. You know the geography
of Vashu better than I. I might easily get lost. Now you have led me to the
Mountains of Argzoon you must return to the nearest friendly settlement, send
messengers to tell where I am, where Shizala is—get the news out as fast as you
can. Then a big force of warriors can come here while the Argzoon are still
depleted and recovering and wipe out the threat of the Blue Giants once and for
all!"

"But it will take me weeks to
get back to civilization of any sort. If you get into trouble here you will be
dead long before I can bring help."

"If personal safety were our
first consideration," I reminded him, "neither of us would be here
now. You must see the logic of what I say. Go!"

He thought deeply for a moment,
then clapped me on the shoulder, turned and began to make his way rapidly back
in the direction we had come.

Once made up, Darnad's mind made
him act swiftly.

Now I crept on, feeling somehow
even smaller and weaker in the face of monstrous nature now that Darnad had
gone.

Somehow I managed to get to the
base of the path without being seen.

Somehow I managed to dash from
cliff-wall to the shadow of the city and hug myself close to the rough-hewn
stone.

And then, all of a sudden, it
became darker! I could not at first understand the cause of my good luck. Then
I saw that they were damping down the big fires! Why?

Then I realized what must be
happening. Fuel itself must be scarce so, for a period corresponding to
night-time on the surface, the fires were damped while the Argzoon slept. In
the almost pitch-black darkness I decided that this was my chance to explore
the city and try to find out where Shizala was imprisoned.

Perhaps, if luck continued to stay
on my side, I would even have a chance to rescue her, and together we could
leave the gloomy cavern-world of the Argzoon and ride back to Varnal.

I hardly dared consider this as I
began slowly to climb the rough sides of the city wall.

It was a stiff climb, but not too
difficult. Both my hands and my feet had been hardened over the long weeks of
our quest and so I found I could grip the rock like a
Gibraltar
monkey.

The darkness brought its own
dangers, of course, and I was forced to climb largely by touch, but soon I was
on top of the wall.

Crouching, sword in hand just in
case I should be surprised, I sidled along the wall, peering down into the
city, trying to make out the likeliest place where Shizala might be held.

Then I saw it!

One building was fairly well
illuminated by torches from within and brands on the ramparts. But this is not
what I noticed so much as the great, brooding banner that flew from a mast on
the central keep of the building.

It was the N'aal Banner that
adorned Horguhl's tent oh the battlefield outside—a larger version, but the
same design.

It was little to go on—but it was
something. I would make for the building with the banner.

I resheathed my sword and
clambered over the other side of the wall, beginning to climb slowly down
towards the ground.

I was nearly at the bottom with
perhaps only a dozen feet to go when a detachment of Argzoon warriors suddenly
rounded a building near the wall and marched towards me. I wondered if I had
been seen—whether they had been sent to deal with me. But then they began to
pass beneath me. I was only a couple of feet above the head of the tallest as
he passed. I clung like a fly to the wall, praying that I would not slip and
betray myself.

As soon as they were out of sight,
I climbed the remaining distance to the ground and dashed across to the cover
of a building, fashioned from the same roughly-heaped stone as the wall.

Knowing that the Argzoon warriors
had not had many mounts, I guessed that only a few had returned as yet, which
explained why the city seemed virtually deserted.

This was another thing that I welcomed
and which was to my advantage.

Soon I had reached the building I
was headed for.

The sides of this were somewhat
smoother, but I thought I could tackle it. The only problem here was that the
walls were fairly well illuminated and I might be seen.

There was nothing for it but to
risk it, for no other time would be better. I would try to reach a window and
swing myself in. Once inside the building I might be able to hide myself better
and at least discover something, by watching and listening, of where Shizala
was being kept.

I got a hold on a piece of
projecting stone and hauled myself up, inch by inch. It was
slow
going and increasingly difficult. All the windows—little more than holes in the
rock—were some distance above the ground, none less than twenty feet, and the
one I had decided to try was probably higher. I deduced that fear of attack was
the reason why the windows were positioned so high.

But at last I managed to make the
window and peered over the sill to see if the room beyond was occupied. It did
not appear to be.

I entered quickly.

It appeared that I was in a
store-room of some kind, for there were wicker baskets of dried fruit and meat,
herbs and vegetables. I decided to make use of some of the food stuff,
obviously looted in an earlier raiding expedition. I selected the most
palatable items and ate them. I was thirsty, too, but there was no readily
available source of water. I would have to wait for a drink.

Feeling refreshed, I explored the
room. It was fairly large and very draughty. Perhaps because of the draughts,
it had not been used as a living accommodation for a long while—judging by the
old and near-rotted pieces of basket that littered the floor.

I found the door and tried it.

To
my
 
great
 
disappointment it was
 
locked—barred from the outside, probably as a precaution against
thieves!

I was very weary and my eyes kept
closing involuntarily as I fought sleep. The pursuit had been long and arduous;
we had allowed ourselves little time for rest. I decided that I would be more
use to Shizala if I were rested.

I clambered over the baskets and
made myself a kind of nest in the centre by removing some baskets and piling
them around me. That way I would be warmer, and if anyone entered the room they
would not see me. Feeling fairly secure, I lay down to sleep.

An increase in the glow of
firelight entering the window told me that it was a new Argzoon 'day'. But, I
realized immediately, that was not what had awakened me.

There was someone else in the
room.

Very cautiously, I stretched my cramped
limbs and began to stand up, peering through a crack in my barricade.

I was astonished.

The man collecting food from the
baskets was not an Argzoon. He was a man similar in build to myself, but with a
pale complexion—perhaps caused by living in the sunless vaults of the Blue
Giants.

His face had a strange, dead
appearance. His eyes were dull, his features frozen as he mechanically
transferred meat and vegetables from the baskets to a smaller basket he held in
his left hand.

He was unarmed. His shoulders were
bowed, his hair lank and uncared for.

There was no questioning his
situation and function in the cavern-world of the Argzoon.

The man was a slave and seemed to
have been one for a long time.

Being a slave he would, of course,
have no love for his masters. On the other hand, how much had he been cowed by
them? Could I reveal myself in the hope of receiving help from him, or would he
be frightened and shout for help?

I had taken many risks to get this
far. I must take a further risk now.

As silently as I could I climbed
from cover and crept across the tops of the baskets towards him. He was half
turned away from me and only seemed to notice me when I was almost on top of
him.

When he saw me, his eyes widened
and his mouth dropped, but he made no sound.

"I am a friend," I
whispered.

"F-friend . . . ?" He
repeated the word dully as if it meant nothing to him.

"An enemy
of the Argzoon—a slayer of many of the Blue Giants."

"Aah!" He backed away in
fear, dropping his basket.

I leapt to the ground and dashed
towards the door, closing it. He turned to face me, his mouth trembling now,
his eyes still wide in ghastly fear. It was evidently not me he feared so much
as something that I represented to him.

"Y-you must go to the Queen—y-you
must surrender yourself. D-do that and y-you may escape the N'aal Beast!"

"The Queen?
The N'all Beast?
I've heard the name—what is it?"

"O-oh, d-do not
ask
me!"

"Who are you? How long have
you been here?" I tried a different line of questioning.

"I—I think my name was Ornak
Dia . . . Y-yes, that was it, that was my name ... I d-do not know h-how long .
. . s-since w-we f-followed the Argzoon h-here and w-were led into ambush.
Ththey had only sent half their strength against the lands of the south—we did
n-not r-realize . . ." With these memories he seemed to remember something
of the man he must have been previously, for his shoulders straightened a
little and he held his mouth better.

"You were part of the force
led by the Bradhi of the Karnala—
is
that right?"
I asked him. I wondered what kind of hardships could have turned a warrior into
this servile thing in such a comparatively short space of time.

"Th-that is right."

"They lured you down here
where the rest of their army was waiting—it had been a calculated tactic—and
when you reached the floor of the cavern-world they attacked you and wiped out
your army. Isn't that what happened?" I had already guessed most of this,
of course.