1 - Warriors of Mars (9 page)

"No time for
conversation," I said brusquely, trying to hide the emotion that her
closeness brought to my breast. "We must escape."

Darnad had his hand over Horguhl's
mouth. He looked unhappy, not used to treating a woman so.

"Horguhl is no
prisoner," Shizala said. "She—"

"I can see that now," I
said. "Come—we must hurry."

We turned and left the room.
Darnad released his hold on Horguhl and followed us.

But before we could reach the
window a score of men, led by the two Argzoon giants and another who wore a
bright circlet on his matted, greasy hair, burst into the room.

Darnad,
myself
and our six warriors turned to face them, forming a barrier between them and
Shizala.

"Leave quickly,
Shizala," I said softly. "Go to the house of Belet Vor." I gave
her brief instructions how to find the old man.

"I cannot leave you. I
cannot."

"You must—it will serve us
better if we know you, at least, are safe. Please do as I say." I was
staring at the Argzoon and the others, waiting for them to attack. They were
moving in cautiously.

She seemed to understand my
reasoning and it was with relief that I saw her from the corner of my eye clamber
over the sill and disappear into the night.

Horguhl emerged from the other
room, pointing an imperious finger at us. Her face was flushed with anger.

"These men sought to abduct
me and the other woman," she said to the greasy-haired man who stood there
with drawn sword.

"So—did you not know,"
he said, addressing us with a leer, "that Chinod Sai values the safety of
his guests and resents the intrusion of riff-raff such as you?"

"Riff-raff, murderer of
children," said Darnad. "I know you upstart—you who calls himself
Bradhi of a collection of cut-throats and pilferers!"

Chinod Sai sneered. "You
speak bravely—but your words are hollow. You are all about to die."

Then he and his unholy allies were
on us, his guards supporting them. The duel began.

I found myself fighting not only
Chinod Sai but one of the Argzoon, and it was all I could do to defend myself,
even though I knew I outmatched them both in swordsmanship.

However, they tended to crowd each
other and this, at least, was to my advantage.

I held them off as best I could
until I saw my chance. Rapidly I flung my sword from my right hand to my left.
This foxed them for a second. Then I lunged at the Argzoon, who was slower than
Chinod Sai, and caught him in the breast. He fell back groaning. That left the
self-styled Bradhi of Narlet.

But seeing the great blue warrior
fall, Chinod Sai evidently lost his stomach for battle and backed away, letting
his hired guards take his place.

It was my turn to sneer.

One by one our own warriors went
down until only Darnad and
myself
were left standing.

I hardly cared if I died. So long
as Shizala were safe—and I knew that the wily old Belet Vor would see to that—I
was prepared to die.

But I did not die. There were so
many warriors pressing in towards us that we could hardly move our sword arms.

Soon we were hot so much
sword-fighting as wrestling.

Their weight of numbers was too
great. After a short time we were engulfed and, for the second time in the
space of a week, I received a blow on the head—and this second blow was not
meant in kindness as the first had been!

My senses fled, blackness engulfed
me, and I knew no more.

I OPENED my eyes but saw nothing. I smelt much. My nostrils
were assailed by a foul, damp, chilly smell that seemed to indicate I was
somewhere below ground. I flexed my arms and legs. They were unbound, at least.

I tried to get up but bumped my
head. I could only crouch on the damp, messy ground.

I was horrified. Had I been
incarcerated in some tomb? Was I to die slowly of hunger, or have my senses
leave me? With an effort I controlled myself. Then I heard a slight sound to my
left.

Cautiously I felt about me and my
hand touched something warm.

Someone groaned.
 
I had touched a limb. It stirred.

Then a voice murmured: "Who
is there? Where am I?"

"Darnad?"

"Yes."

"It is Michael Kane. We seem
to be in some sort of dungeon—with a very low ceiling indeed."

"What?" I heard Darnad
move and sit up, perhaps reaching with his hands above him. "No!"

"Do you know the place?"

"I believe I have heard of
it."

"What is it?"

"The old
heating system."

"That sounds very innocuous.
What's that?"

"Narlet is built on the
ancient ruins of one of the Sheev cities. Hardly anything of it exists, save
the foundations of one particular building. Those foundations now make up
Chinod Sai's foundations for his palace. Apparently the slabs forming the floor
of the palace lie over an ancient, sunken pool which could be filled with hot
water and made to heat the ground floor of the palace—perhaps the whole of
it—by means of pipes. From what I hear, the Sheev abandoned this particular
city well before their decline, for they later discovered better methods of
heating."

"And so we are buried under
the floor of Chinod Sai's palace?"

"I've heard it gives him
pleasure to imprison his enemies here—having them permanently at his feet, as
it were."

I did not laugh, though I admired
the fortitude of my friend in jesting at a time like this.

I put my hands up and felt the
smooth, damp slabs over my head, pressing on them. They did not budge.

"If he can raise the slabs,
why can't we?"

"There are only a few loose
ones, I've heard—Belet Vor told me all this—and very heavy furniture is placed
over those when prisoners have been incarcerated."

"So we have been buried
alive," I said, suppressing a shudder of terror. I admit that I was
horrified. I think any man—no matter how bravewould have been at the thought of
such a fate.

"Yes." Darnad's voice
was a thin mutter. It seemed that he, too, had no liking for what had happened
to us.

"At least we have saved
Shizala," I reminded him. "Belet Vor will see that she returns safely
to Varnal."

"Yes." The voice sounded
slightly less strained. Silence for a while. Later I made up my mind.

"If you will stay where you
are, Darnad," I said, "so that I may keep some sort of bearing, I
will explore our prison."

"Very well," he agreed.

I had to crawl, of course—there
was no other way.

I counted the number of 'paces' as
I moved across that horribly wet and foul-smelling floor.

By the time I had counted to
sixty-one I had reached a wall. I then began to crawl round this, still
counting.

Something obstructed me. I could
not tell at first what it was. Thin objects like sticks. I felt them carefully
and then withdrew my hand suddenly as I realized what they were.
Bones.
One of Chinod Sai's earlier
victims.

I encountered several more
skeletons on my circuit of the walls.

From where I had started, the
first wall measured ninety-seven 'paces'; the second only fifty-four. The third
was, in all, a hundred and twenty-six. I began to wonder why I was doing this,
save to keep my mind occupied.

The fourth wall.
One 'pace', two,
three ...

On the seventeenth 'pace' along
the fourth wall my hand touched—nothing!

Surely this could not be a means
of escape? By touch I discovered that some sort of circular hole led off from
the fourth wall—perhaps a pipe that had once brought water into the chamber. It
was just wide enough to take a man.

I put my head inside and reached
my arms along it. It was wet and slimy but nothing stopped me.

Before I raised Darnad's hopes, I
decided to see whether the pipe really offered a chance of escape.

I squeezed my whole body into it
and began to lever myself forward, wriggling like a snake.

I began to feel elated when
nothing obstructed me. Soon my whole body was in the pipe. I wriggled on. I
hate being so confined normally, but if the pipe meant escape it was worth
suffering my claustrophobia.

But then
came
disappointment.

My questing hands found
something—and I knew at once what they touched.

It was another human skeleton.

Evidently some other poor
soul—perhaps manyhad sought this means of escape and been disappointed—and not
had the energy or inclination to return.

I sighed deeply and began to
wriggle back down.

But as I did so I suddenly heard
something from behind me. I paused. It was the sound of grating stone. A little
light filtered up the pipe and I heard someone chuckle.

I did not move. I waited.

Then
came
Chinod Sai's jeering voice. "Greetings, Bradhinak—how are you enjoying
your stay?"

Darnad did not reply.

"Come up, come up—I wish to
show my men what a real Bradhinak of the Karnala looks like. A little befouled,
perhaps—
I
 
am
 
sorry my
 
accommodation is not quite what you are accustomed to."

"I'd rather stay here than be
subjected to your insults, you scum," Darnad replied levelly.

"And what
of your friend—the strange one?
Perhaps he would like a little respite.
Where is he?"

"I do not know."

"You do not know! But he was
put down there with you. Do not
lie
, boy—where is your
companion?"

"I do not know."

The light increased, probably
because Chinod Sai was peering into his horrible crypt, using a torch for
illumination.

His voice rose querulously.
"He must be down there!"

Darnad's tone seemed lighter now.
"You can see he is not—unless one of these skeletons is his."

"Impossible!
Guards!"

I heard the faint sound of feet
above me.

Chinod Sai continued: "Take
up some more of these stones—see if the other prisoner is hiding in a corner.
He is down here somewhere. Meanwhile, bring up the Karnala."

More sounds, and I gathered that
Darnad had been escorted away.

Then I heard the guards beginning
to tear up other slabs and I grinned to myself, hoping that they would not
think of looking in the pipe. Then something occurred to me. It was not a
pleasant thought but it might save me and give me, in turn, a chance to save
Darnad.

I wriggled up the pipe again and
reached up to take hold of some of the bones of the unfortunate who had been
there before me. He had not been lucky but, even though dead some years, he
might be able to help me now—and help me avenge him if and when the opportunity
came.

Squeezing myself up against one
section of the pipe as tightly as I could, I began to pass bones down in front
of me until quite a heap lay below my feet. I did this as soundlessly as
possible, and any noise I did make was probably drowned by the racket the
desperate guards were making pulling up flagstones and crawling around in the
semidarkness trying to find me.

"He isn't here," I heard
one of them say. "You are a fool," answered another. "He must be
here!"

"Well, I tell you he isn't.
Come and look for yourself."

Another guard joined the first and
I heard him stumbling around, too.

"I don't understand—there is
no way out of here. We've put enough of them down here one time or another.
Hey—what's this?"

The guard had found the pipe. The
light increased.

"Could he have gone up here?
If he did it won't do him any good. It's blocked at the other end!"

Then the guard found the bones.
"Ugh! He didn't go up, but someone else tried to. These bones are
old."

"What are we going to tell
the Bradhi?" The first guard spoke nervously. "This smacks of
magic!" "There's no such thing!"

"So we're told these days,
but my grandfather says there are stories ..."

"Shut your mouth!
Magic—ghosts. Nonsense . . . Still, I must admit that he had a strange look
about him. He seemed to belong to no nation I've ever seen. And I have heard
that beyond the ocean lies another land where men have powers greater than
normal. And then there are the Sheev..."

"The Sheev!
That's it!"

"Hold your tongue. Chinod Sai
will tear it out if he hears such language spoken in his palace!"

"What do we tell him?"

"Only the
facts.
The man was here—but he is no longer here."

"But will he believe
us?"

"We must hope that he
does."

I heard the guards clamber up and
march
away. The instant they had gone I slipped down the
pipe as fast as I could and was soon standing up in what had been my prison, my
head just above the level of the floor. Flagstones had been ripped out and the
whole floor was in a mess. I was glad of that, at least.

No one was in the room, which seemed
to be some sort of throne room judging by the huge, ornately carved,
precious-metal gilded chair at one end.

I heaved myself up and stood in
the room. As swiftly and as silently as I could, I ran towards the door and
stood by it, listening.

It was half open. Angry voices
came from the other side.

There were more sounds coming from
outside the palace itself—shouts, cries. They sounded angry.

Somewhere in the distance several
pairs of fists began to beat on a door.

Then I stepped back as, suddenly,
someone came into the room.

It was Chinod Sai.

He stared at me in horror for a
moment.

That moment was all I needed. In a
flash I had darted forward and snatched his own sword from his belt!

I pressed the point gently against
his throat and said with a grim smile on my lips: "Call for your guards,
Chinod Sai—and you call for death!"

He paled and gurgled something. I
gestured for him to come into the room and shut the door. I had been lucky.
Everyone had been too busy with whatever else they were concerned with to
notice what had happened to their "Bradhi".

"Speak in a low voice,"
I ordered. "Tell me what is happening and where my comrade is."

"How—how did you escape?"

"I am asking the questions,
my friend. Now—answer!"

He grunted. "What do you
mean?"

"Answer!"

"The scum are attacking my
palace," he said. "Some petty dahara-thief seeks to replace me."

"I hope he makes a better
chief than you. And where is my comrade?"

He waved a hand behind him.

"In there."

Suddenly someone entered. I had
expected the guards to knock and had intended that Chinod Sal should tell them
not to enter.

But this was not a guard.

It was the surviving Argzoon. He
looked astonished to see me. He turned, giving a roar of warning to the men in
the room.

They came in and I backed away,
looking around for a means of escape, but all the windows in this room were
barred.

"Kill him!" screamed
Chinod Sai, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Kill him!"

Led by the blue Argzoon, the
guards came at me. I knew that I faced death—they would not take me a prisoner
a second time.