Death Stalks the Princess
As Mog, the sullen, shuffled across the narrow strip of cleared ground
toward the game trail into the jungle labyrinth, he was mentally
congratulating himself at the ease with which he had obtained a
desirable mate. Within little more than a sun from now he would be
exhibiting his prize to the envious eyes of the men and the jealous
stares of the shes.
Mog was moving down-wind, and so engrossed was he with
self-congratulations that he utterly failed to sense the presence of a
tawny shape hidden in the thick growth at the trail's mouth.
It was Sadu, the lion, crouching there, massive head flattened to the
ground, hindquarters beneath a taut frame, waiting for the approaching
prey to move within the radius of his spring.
On came the Neanderthal. Suddenly a terrible roar came from the ground
almost at his feet, and a huge body flashed from the cloaking verdure
and leaped at the hairy chest of the astonished man-thing.
Mog's reaction was instinctive. As Sadu's roar broke the silence, the
Hairy One tossed Alurna aside and swung up his massive club to beat off
the attack.
But in vain. Mog had been too well ambushed to stage an effective
defense. Full on his shoulders fell the awful weight of the great cat,
the club brushed aside as though it did not exist, and Mog went down as
though pole-axed.
With wide distended jaws Sadu lowered his head past the futilely
flailing arms. There was a sickening crunch of bone as giant fangs
closed on the face of the struggling figure, and Mog, the sullen, was no
more.
Alurna, prostrate where Mog had tossed her a few feet away, watched the
grisly drama with frightened eyes. During the brief interval in which
Sadu had made his kill, she might have risen and taken to her heels, but
a paralysis of fear kept her motionless.
Now Sadu rose to his feet, shook himself until the thick mane fairly
flew, then placed a heavily taloned paw on his prey and turned his
leonine head to look slowly about.
At last his round yellow eyes came to rest on the prone figure of the
girl. For an endless moment he regarded her with a fixed, unblinking
stare; then the wrinkled lips curled back, exposing blood-reddened
teeth, while from the cavernous chest came a low growl that coursed up
and down the girl's spine like icy fingers.
For what seemed ages to Alurna that stare never wavered. The long
graceful body with its tremendous sinews seemed to expand larger and
larger until it loomed great as that of an elephant. She could feel a
scream of horror and protest forming in her throat; but before it could
find utterance; Sadu swung his head back to the corpse and settled down
to feed.
Alurna felt a wave of relief so intense she nearly fainted; it required
several minutes to beat down her weakness sufficiently to think of
escape.
* * * * *
Some twenty paces to her left towered a mighty tree, its wide branches
offering a secure haven could she but reach them. Only half that
distance, however, separated her and the lion; and if she made a break
for the tree, Sadu could be upon her before she had taken half a dozen
steps.
But the beast might not try to stop her. The princess Alurna knew
nothing of lions and their habits. Only in the arena during the Games
had she seen a live one and then always from a distance. And so she
resolved to lie quiet and wait for the animal to be done with its
feeding. Perhaps then it would rise and stalk back into the jungle,
leaving her unmolested.
The young woman lay perfectly still, trying to close her ears to sounds
of grinding teeth and splintering bones. Once she shut her eyes on the
revolting picture of Sadu at dinner, but opened them at once. To watch
fragments of Mog disappearing into that monstrous maw was bad enough;
but to see nothing, while an overwrought imagination sent the beast
slinking toward her, was more than human nerves could endure.
Suddenly Sadu rose from the Neanderthal's body and gave voice to a low
ominous growl. Alurna saw that the cat's attention was fixed on
something beyond her, and she cautiously turned her head toward the
cliff.
A few feet below the upper edge were several man-like figures clinging
to the vertical surface. Carefully, each inched its way downward,
testing each foot-and hand-hold before continuing on.
For a brief, ecstatic moment the girl took them to be warriors from
Sephar; but then she saw they were creatures identical to her late
captor, and suddenly heightened hopes plunged to a new depth of misery.
Sadu stood as a statue of bronze, the lazy jungle breeze ruffling his
tawny mane, narrowed eyes intent on the slow-moving figures. For several
minutes he stood thus, then lowering his head he seized the corpse of
Mog by one arm and dragged it from sight deep into the luxurious growth
of vegetation beside the trail. Not once during this change of position
did he glance toward the watching girl.
The moment Sadu disappeared from view, Alurna sprang to her feet and
plunged blindly into the jungle at a point farthest removed from the
beast. Her only thought was to put all the distance possible between
Sadu and herself. She dared not take to the open for fear the Hairy Men
would catch sight of her and hunt her down.
For nearly two hours she struggled on, tearing her way through a tangled
confusion of creepers, trees, ferns, broken branches and bushes. Several
times she tripped and fell headlong, only to rise and stumble onward.
Her tunic was stained and torn, thorns and branches having ripped the
material in many places.
At last, after unwittingly changing her course many times, she sank to
the ground beside the hole of a great tree in the center of a small
clearing deep within the heart of the primeval forest.
Completely exhausted she lay half-conscious on the soft carpet of
grasses, her tortured lungs laboring to bring oxygen to an overtaxed
heart. Gradually her eyes closed, her heart slowed its mad tempo, she
breathed more calmly as fear left her. As from a great distance came the
low monotonous hum of insects, the subdued twitter of birds and
rustlings from many leaves. Alurna slept....
* * * * *
When she sat up, several hours later, the glade was filled with the
half-light that presages nightfall. She stood up and looked about, aware
of the danger she had courted by sleeping on the ground in a territory
where savage animals were so plentiful.
Abruptly the fading dusk deepened into darkness. The girl's tiny supply
of courage fled with the light, leaving a frightened child to grope her
way to the base of the lofty tree, where she managed to climb among the
branches.
Here she found two thick boughs close together and extending
horizontally outward in about the same plane. Sitting with her back
against the rough trunk, she stretched tired legs along the two branches
and composed herself to wait for the dawn.
Scarcely was she settled than the scream of a great cat sounded beneath
her, and she heard the animal on the ground at the foot of the tree. For
a short time it circled the clearing, then came the sound of rustling
undergrowth and Jalok, the panther, was gone.
That night was the longest Alurna had ever known. The chill dampness of
the nocturnal jungle penetrated to the innermost parts of her body until
she was certain she would never again be warm. The single thin garment
she was wearing was no protection; in fact, it added to her discomfort
by absorbing moisture from the damp air.
Later, the heavy blackness about her was dispelled by rays of the full
moon as it climbed until it seemed to hang close to the mighty tree that
sheltered her. So bright was the glare that Alurna could see objects so
small as to escape notice during the day. Several times she saw tiny
rodents scurrying across the clearing, and once she saw little Sleeza
kill and swallow a field mouse.
Twice she heard large bodies moving in the tangled fastness about the
clearing, but what made the sounds remained a mystery. At frequent
intervals the savage roars and screams of fierce beasts reached her
ears, but always from a distance.
At last the seemingly endless night began to wane, and near daybreak the
girl dozed fitfully.
When next she opened her eyes the sun had risen, flooding the glade with
life-giving, hope-reviving rays. Alurna rose, unkinked muscles cramped
from long hours in an unfamiliar position, and descended slowly to the
ground. She was aware of being very hungry as well as possessed of a
raging thirst. Acting on these needs she entered the forest to search
for water and food.
* * * * *
Shortly thereafter, and solely by chance, she came to a small
swift-moving mountain stream. Here she knelt and drank deep of the cold
water, then, greatly refreshed, rose, and set about gathering fruit from
the plentiful supply everywhere about her.
After eating, she bathed in the river, its waters soothing to the
scratches and bruises of yesterday's mad dash through the jungle.
By the time she had dressed again, the sun was quite high. While she had
been in the water she had caught sight of a narrow game trail leading in
the direction she was confident Sephar lay. Spirits soaring, she started
out for home, her step springy with confidence.
By noon the sun's heat had become so oppressive that she stopped in the
shelter of a tree to rest. She was tempted to climb into the branches
and sleep for a while; but the thought of being forced to spend another
night in this wilderness drove away that temptation. It could not be
much farther, she reasoned, before the base of the great plateau about
Sephar was reached.
Her sweat-streaked face set in stubborn lines, the daughter of Urim
stepped once more into the trail and plodded doggedly on. And every step
was taking her farther and farther from her home.
It was not long after, that Tarlok, the leopard, his belly empty from a
night of fruitless hunting, caught scent of her. Slowly, with infinite
stealth, he slunk upwind, keeping within the jungle's edge until he
caught sight of the girl's bowed shoulders.
Tarlok's jowls dripped with anticipation. Of all creatures known to him,
none was more easily taken than man. A quick stalk, a sudden spring--and
once again Tarlok would feed.
Nearer and nearer he approached, moving warily lest the girl take alarm
and climb high into some tree. When almost abreast of her, he boldly
stepped into the trail, not ten feet behind his unsuspecting prey.
It was then that Alurna, warned perhaps by some subtle sense, turned
around.
* * * * *
Vulcar of Sephar and his band of twenty warriors having safely descended
the precipice at the same point where Alurna had inched her way down
earlier that day, assembled at the mouth of a pathway into the
unchartered wood before them.
"They probably came this way," Vulcar said. "Look about for some sign of
their passage."
A few minutes later a shout of triumph from one of the party brought the
others to his side. He was pointing to a mark in the trail's dust--the
large square imprint of a great flat foot, grotesquely human.
Vulcar smiled with grim satisfaction. "We are on the right track," he
declared. "Let us go on; we have work to do."
As unwittingly as though it did not exist they passed the spot where
their princess had entered the jungle. They did not see the broken and
twisted greenery in the forest wall, and had they done so they could not
have interpreted its meaning.
The men of Urb, versed in jungle lore, had found her trail at once, just
as they had picked out Mog's bones where Sadu had left them. But Urim's
daughter held no interest for any one of them, and they had made no
effort to track her down.
For the balance of the day Vulcar and his companions pushed ahead on
their mission of rescue--or revenge. Because they were smaller and more
active they covered ground much more quickly than their bulky quarry.
Consequently they were rapidly overtaking the five Neanderthals.
Near sunset the winding path debouched into a small clearing, through
which ran a fair-sized stream. Here the pursuers found the first
positive indication they were on the right track. On the near bank of
the river were ashes of a small fire, still warm to the touch.
Scattered about it were the gnawed bones of Muta, the boar--already
picked clean by hordes of ants.
At first, Vulcar's men had clamored to dash ahead in hot pursuit. But
the hawk-faced leader decided against it, saying a short rest and full
bellies would help them to fight better than if they were worn and
hungry.
"But if we wait," argued one, "the Hairy Men may reach their caves. We
cannot fight against an entire tribe of them."
Vulcar shook his head. "Had they been close to their caves," he pointed
out, "they would not have stopped to eat and rest. No; we will stop for
a little while and eat of the food we carry; then we can go on even more
quickly than before.
"Five of us will go slightly ahead of the others. In case the Hairy Men
find that many are following them they may run away. If they see only
five, however, they are sure to attack. Then the balance of us will fall
upon them!"
There was no gainsaying the soundness of Vulcar's plan. Even the most
action-eager warrior saw its beauty. And so the men dropped to the
ground beside the river, ate of the cured strips of meat carried in
their shoulder pouches, and drank from the river.
After a short rest period, Vulcar called them together and gave the word
that began the last stage of the journey.
* * * * *
While only a short distance ahead, Urb and his four companions plodded
slowly on toward their distant homes.
Darkness was not far in the offing, and Urb was inwardly debating on
ordering the men to the trees for the night, when Tolb, at the rear of
the column, voiced a low note that arrested the others in mid-stride.
Turning as one, the five stood motionless, their ears, keen as those of
Sadu, himself, cocked to catch and interpret what Tolb had heard.
Urb, wise old campaigner, was first to identify the sounds. "Men!" he
grunted. "The hairless ones! Hide."
Silently each Neanderthal man stepped behind a trunk of one of the trees
lining the path. Mighty clubs swung ready in steel fingers; narrowed
eyes beneath overhanging brows scanned the open ground of the trail. The
minutes lengthened....
And then five white-tuniced figures appeared at the far end of the path
and came on at a half-trot. Slung across their shoulders were short
bows; at their backs hung arrow-filled containers, and in their right
hands dangled clubs, smaller than those used by the Neanderthals but
still formidable weapons.
Not until the group had drawn abreast the ambushers did Urb give the
signal. Then his fingers closed on a dry branch, and five immense
bludgeons hurtled toward the startled Sepharians.
It requires far more skill to hit a moving target than a stationary one.
Then, too, the half-light near the end of day does not add to the
chances of a successful cast.
Three of the clubs missed their marks altogether, one struck a shoulder
glancingly, while the fifth crashed into the base of a neck, snapping
the spine and killing the stricken man instantly.
Behind the cudgels blundered the Hairy Ones, drawing flint knives as
they came. If they had expected to catch the enemy unprepared and
demoralized, however, they were badly disappointed.
A barrage of Sepharian clubs flashed to meet them. Two found marks: one
striking Kor alongside the skull, knocking him flat; the other caught
Urb, himself, a glancing blow atop the head that made his knees buckle
briefly.
The Neanderthal chieftain recovered quickly and with an angry bellow
sprang at the nearest white-clad figure. Disregarding the darting knife,
Urb caught him by the tunic with one hand and drove his fist with
inhuman force full into the Sepharian's face.
There was a dull crunching sound of crumpling bones and the hairless one
slumped forward, his face from hairline to chin driven through the back
of his head.
The two remaining guards were still in the fight, seeking to
out-maneuver their less agile foemen and knife them from behind. The
shifting feet stirred up dust from the trail until a cloud enveloped the
fighters.
And then a ringing shout echoed above the panting, twisting bodies, and
into battle came the balance of the Sepharians.
At sight of these enemy reinforcements, Urb and his three remaining
henchmen turned and fled, leaving the fallen Kor where he lay. The
newcomers pursued them for a short distance, then, seeing they were
empty-handed, turned back.
* * * * *
Vulcar called his men together, determined the extent of any injuries,
then turned his attention to the bodies in the trail. Coolly he ran his
knife through the throat of the still stunned Kor. A brief examination
proved the other two casualties to be quite dead.
After detailing four men to scoop out shallow graves for their late
comrades, Vulcar sent the others into the foliage on either side of the
trail to find Alurna. He believed she had been bound and gagged to
prevent any warning of the ambuscade, and he pictured her as lying
helpless nearby, awaiting release.
Until long after darkness, Vulcar and his men searched for their
princess. Again and again they shouted her name, straining to catch an
answering cry that did not come. Finally, after hours of systematic
effort, in which every inch of ground for yards around was combed, the
realization came that Urim's daughter was as lost to them as though they
had remained in Sephar.
To Vulcar, the awful truth came as a sickening blow. So certain of
success had he been at learning they were close on the heels of the
Hairy Men, that the final disappointment almost drove him mad. All he
could see was hopeless suffering dulling Urim's eyes and lining his
face.... Vulcar beat his fists together in impotent fury at his own
helplessness.
Reluctantly he gave the signal to abandon the search, and with bowed
shoulders and bent head the captain led his command back toward Sephar
and a waiting father.
* * * * *
Dylara sat beside a tiny brook and allowed its cool waters to chill her
aching ankle. It had begun to swell again from the strain of a full
day's slow progress, even though she had stopped many times to give it
rest.
An hour from now it would be sunset. Soon the forest denizens would be
coming here to drink. Soon, too, would come the meat-eaters, to lurk
beside the pathway, awaiting Bana and Neela, whose succulent flesh they
loved.
The cave-girl bent and washed the dust from her hands and face, drying
the skin with grass. Then she rose and retraced her steps to the base of
a tall tree. Favoring her ankle as best she could, Dylara climbed well
above the ground, sought and found a properly placed limb on which she
could spend the night, and fell promptly into dreamless sleep.
* * * * *
She had no more than closed her eyes when a group of eight men passed
below the branches of her tree and stopped at the water's edge. One of
the eight walked slowly back and forth on the near bank, his head
lowered, studying the ground.
He halted suddenly, stooped lower, eyes intent on something there. Then
he beckoned to the others.
"Look!" he exclaimed. "There, in the mud. See those marks? She sat here,
bathing her feet. And here!--here are the prints of bare feet."
Jotan, following the pointing finger, nodded, his handsome face shining.
"They must be hers. Are they recent, Modilk?"
"So recent," said the long-faced Modilk solemnly, "that the slave-girl
must be within a few minutes of us."
Javan spoke now, his voice worried. "Where are we to spend the night,
Jotan? The big cats will be hunting soon; we must find a safe place."
Jotan slapped his friend's shoulder comfortingly. "We'll find Dylara
first," he said, "then make camp for the night. A circle of brush fires
will keep the lions and leopards away."
The eight men waded the stream, not bothering to remove their sandals,
and pressed on into the north.
While a stone's throw behind them, aloft in the branches of a leafy
tree, slept the girl they were seeking.