Return to Sephar
For the first time since she had started out that morning, Alurna was
beginning to question her opinion of where Sephar lay. She sought to
push out the thought lest it became certainty and bring utter panic in
its wake.
She forced her mind into other channels. How silent the jungle had
become! Somehow its spells of stillness were harder to bear than the
most sinister of sounds. Unconsciously she strained her ears for some
sound to relieve this feeling of complete loneliness.
Something was moving in the trail behind her!
Alurna was turning, even as her brain received the warning. Standing in
the path was Tarlok, the leopard, less than ten paces away.
Stricken dumb with terror, Alurna could only gaze wide-eyed at that
sleek, spotted head. The narrowed yellow eyes, the white teeth with four
long fangs predominated, the back-curling lips drawn into a grimace of
blood-lust, even the somehow ludicrous long white hairs on the upper
lip--all were stamped indelibly within her mind.
Tarlok was enjoying himself. The utter fear expressed in every line of
his prey's face and body appealed to the cruelty in his nature. Purely
as a means of adding to that fear, he made a little half-spring toward
the girl.
Voicing a half-mad sob of absolute despair, Alurna sank to her knees and
closed her eyes to wait for a horrible death.
There followed an agonizing few moments of silence. Why did death delay?
Alurna fought to keep her eyes tight shut; but terror plucked at the
lids, forcing them open. Hardly more than a yard away was the cat's
sleek, savage head!
[Illustration: A rope hissed through the air and Tarlok reared high]
And then something hissed through the air between the girl and the
beast. Emitting a shrill scream of surprise and anger, Tarlok reared
high above the kneeling figure. That awful sound was more than Alurna's
taut nerves could withstand, and she toppled forward into merciful
unconsciousness....
* * * * *
Her next conscious sensation was that of flying, and she shuddered,
believing it the brief delirium preceding death. But as the floating
feeling endured, she slowly opened her eyes and saw that she was being
borne through the forest top in the arms of a half naked man.
"The leopard?" she said weakly. "What happened? How--"
A slight smile touched the man's strong, finely-shaped lips, lighting up
his handsome, tanned face. "Tarlok is dead," he said. "It was very
close; my rope caught him just in time."
He halted and placed her in a sitting position on a strong branch, then
sat down beside her. "I was beginning to think you would never open your
eyes again," he continued. "We have come a long way since I picked you
up in the trail."
Alurna was staring intently at him as he talked. "I have seen you
somewhere, before."
Again the man smiled. "Yes," he said. "You have seen me before. It was
only a few nights ago that I entered your room while the palace guards
were hunting me."
"Of course!" Alurna exclaimed. "I remember. But you were caught and
sentenced to the Games. Have you escaped from Sephar? And how did you
happen to find me?" She broke off, laughing. "Not that I'm sorry you
_did_ find me. If you hadn't--" She shivered, leaving the sentence
unfinished.
"Your father sent me to take you from the Hairy Ones," Tharn explained.
"It was Katon's idea."
Whereupon he told of the agreement reached during his talk with Urim.
The princess was secretly elated by one particular provision of the
pact--the promised return of the Cro-Magnard girl to this man for
succeeding in his mission. With Dylara gone, there was no reason why
Jotan could not be won by Urim's daughter.
"Will you take me home, now?" she asked.
Tharn nodded. "We will go on until darkness, then sleep in the trees
until morning."
He stood upright on the swaying bow, then bent and caught Alurna about
the waist and swung her lightly to his back. The girl's arms slipped
instinctively about the strong neck, and the young cave lord set off
along the leafy avenue he had been following.
* * * * *
The first few minutes of the journey were never to be forgotten by the
awed princess. Tharn's path took him high above the ground to where
encumbering masses of tangled creepers did not reach. From one slender
branch to another the majestic figure raced along with an easy sureness
remarkable to behold.
Alurna forgot her fear of the heights, presently, admiration taking its
place.
How confidently this god-like creature threaded his way across the
network of bending boughs, where a slip might mean an awful death to
them both! What splendid thews he possessed, to carry her as though she
were a day-old babe!
Occasionally the rays of the sinking sun reached them through breaks in
the foliage above, disclosing to the rapt eyes of the princess the
horrid depths beneath.
Soon the dizzying bounds from one great tree pinnacle to the next ceased
to be breath-taking, and Alurna rested against Tharn's warm shoulder,
her nerves calm and relaxed.
Tharn's thoughts were far afield. Soon--another sun, in fact--Dylara and
he would be on their way to the caves of Tharn. And Katon would go with
them--Katon, his good friend.
The blue-eyed Sepharian and he would hunt in the forests with Barkoo and
Korgul and Torbat. Katon would teach them to use the bow. Perhaps his
friend would find a mate among the girls of the tribe. Then in truth
would they be as blood-brothers!
How wonderful it would be to have such a companion! Always before he had
spent much of his time alone, ranging the jungles for the adventures he
craved. In all his tribe there had not been one he was drawn to; none he
liked and respected enough to adopt as an intimate. Barkoo, of course,
came closest to being such; but Barkoo carried far more years than he,
and was given to the conservatism of old men.
The others were so far short of his own physical and mental stature.
They could not race at break-neck speed through tree tops; they could
not scent game from afar; they feared the great cats, unless in the
company of many warriors.
It would be different, now. He would teach Katon the forest lore that
had made Tharn master of the wild places. They would be always
together--inseparable.
Only a few minutes of daylight remained when Tharn and his burden
reached the forest's edge near the base of the sheer cliff between them
and Sephar. Tharn realized they could not hope to complete the ascent
before the light failed; so, selecting a tall tree, he fashioned a rude
platform of branches high above the ground and covered it with leaves as
a comfortable bed for the princess.
As for himself, he curled in a crotch of the same tree, a few feet
beneath her, and, after waiting until she had ceased turning uneasily on
her primitive couch, dropped off to sleep.
* * * * *
The sun had barely cleared the eastern horizon when Alurna opened her
eyes. For a long moment she gazed blankly at the ceiling of vegetation;
then memory returned and she rose to her feet on the lattice of boughs
that had served as her bed.
Something of the beauty of the untamed forest came to her as she stood
there, drinking in the sea of green through sleep-freshened eyes. An
early morning breeze stirred the vast expanse of leaves like an
invisible hand; multi-colored birds flashed among the myriad branches
and festooned vines, uttering strident cries or now and then surprising
her with a burst of melody from some feathered throat. Already familiar
were the ever-present troops of sure-footed monkeys, swinging and racing
among the tree-top terraces--chattering, scolding, inquisitive.
This, she reflected, was the jungle--gaudy and sparkling and inviting on
the surface; grim, and the lurking place of savage horror beneath its
glamorous exterior.
There was a soft sound at her back, and she wheeled--to look into the
quiet face of the cave-man. In his arms was a quantity of fruits; and
Alurna was suddenly aware of being very hungry.
While they ate, seated on the bed of leaves, Alurna chattered
continuously, asking many questions, seeking to explore the depths of
her rescuer's mind and character. She found herself admiring the utter
lack of self-consciousness in his replies and actions, while his
habitual reserve and dignity of bearing compelled her respect.
Finally they descended to the ground and crossed the ribbon of grassland
to the base of the lofty escarpment. Alurna, looking up at the upper rim
so far above, shook her head in wonder.
"I'll never be able to climb it, Tharn," she protested. "How I ever
managed to get down it without falling, is more than I know."
"We can not wish ourselves to the top," Tharn pointed out. "Nor is there
any point in remaining here. We can at least make the effort."
It required more than an hour for them to gain the upper edge of the
plateau. Alurna was helpless to aid him by doing any climbing herself;
Tharn literally had to carry her up that vertical slope.
When they stood at last on level ground, the cave-man did not stop to
rest. After they had crossed the narrow stretch of plains bordering the
forest, Tharn turned to his companion. "I am going to carry you, again,"
he said. "Hold me about the neck and do not be afraid."
* * * * *
With that, he lifted her easily, and supporting her thus with one arm,
took to the trees. With the pathway through the branches lighted by
Dyta's powerful rays, and with the knowledge that only a few hours
remained before he would reclaim Dylara, Tharn elected to travel
swiftly; and when the forest-man hurried, there were few of the jungle
folk that could match his speed.
Onward he went, racing along swaying limbs, leaping outward across space
to hurtle into the embrace of another tree at the dizzy height of the
forest top, his free hand finding, unerringly, some waving bough at the
very instant those sure feet came to rest on some strong branch. Now he
threaded his way above the hard-packed earth with all the grace and
agility of a tight-rope walker, prevented from falling only by an
uncanny sense of balance. If handicapped by his burden, none might have
guessed it; certainly he could not have moved with greater speed and
surety had he been unencumbered.
Alurna lay quiescent within his grasp, looking up at the immobile face
so near her own. It was restful to lie against the broad chest, her
cheek pillowed on a firm shoulder, and be lulled to drowsiness by the
rhythmic sway of this tireless body. A feeling of complete peace
gradually suffused her entire being, her eyelids grew languorously
heavy, closed of their own volition.... Alurna fell fast asleep.
* * * * *
How long she slept Alurna never knew, but her eyes opened as she felt
the arms about her relax their grip and lower her to her feet. There
was something almost of roughness in the action, and she looked up at
Tharn quickly. To her surprise he was standing with head thrown back,
nostrils twitching as he sniffed the wind from the north. His face
seemed tense, strangely drawn.
She put a hand on his arm, her white fingers gleaming in sharp contrast
to the tanned forearm.
"What has happened, Tharn?" She glanced uneasily about at the
surrounding foliage. "Are we nearly to Sephar?"
Tharn was not listening. To his sensitive nostrils the wind was bringing
the scent of a lion--and of a girl. The odors were commingled and of
equal strength, sufficient evidence to Tharn that the girl might be in
danger.
But the scents alone had not brought the tenseness to his face. There
was a haunting familiarity to one of them--that of the girl.
And then he was galvanized into action. Whirling, he scooped up the girl
and placed her on a thick branch, close to the bole.
"Remain here until I return," he commanded. "I will come back for you."
"But why--" began the princess, then realized she was addressing thin
air. Tharn had gone, speeding through the trees into the north.
His mate was in danger! The thought echoed and re-echoed in his mind,
even as logic told him it was next to impossible for Dylara to be
elsewhere than in Urim's palace. Yet he would stake the evidence of his
senses against reason itself--as, indeed, he was doing now.
If his passage through the trees with Alurna had been rapid, he was
literally flying now--hurling himself from one branch to another with
reckless fury--taking chances he ordinarily would never have considered.
While ever stronger to his nostrils came the scent of Sadu--and of
Dylara.
At last he caught sight of her, seated on a fallen log at the edge of a
trail, carefully massaging an ankle.
And at the same instant, from his elevated position, he caught sight of
Sadu a few paces behind the unheeding daughter of Majok. The beast was
lying belly-flat behind a curtain of vines; and even as Tharn discovered
him the cat was preparing to spring.
The man of the caves never hesitated. Like a falling stone he plummeted
earthward, dropping in front of Sadu as the beast rose in its spring.
* * * * *
Dylara, aroused by crashing foliage, leaped to her feet and whirled
about. She cried out awe-struck wonder as she saw the young man who had
died beneath a Sepharian club standing between her and an on-rushing
lion.
Powerless to move, she watched the Cro-Magnard crouch to meet certain
death. In the single instant that elapsed before Sadu reached him, she
saw Tharn's hands were empty.
And then her jaw dropped and her eyes flew wide with amazement. Tharn
had leaped forward and sent his shoulder crashing into the side of the
soaring brute. Sadu, caught off balance, spun sideways and fell heavily.
He was up instantly, growling horribly, and in mad frenzy turned upon
Tharn.
What Dylara witnessed then was something that was to go down in the folk
lore of future generations of the Cro-Magnard people. She saw the
clenched fingers of the man swing forward with every ounce of power in
that mighty arm, backed by the insane fury of utter desperation.
The iron fist struck Sadu full between the eyes, crushing the skull like
a hollow melon and driving splinters of bone into that savage brain.
Dylara, weak with relief, felt her knees buckle as the lion sank
lifeless to the ground. Tharn, his knuckles throbbing with pain, jumped
forward and caught her about the waist. She turned her face to him,
then, and he saw that her eyes were wet with tears.
Her warm red lips, slightly parted, were very near his own. Drawn by an
irresistible impulse, Tharn bent his head to meet them. The girl saw the
clean, firm mouth come close, yet she did not shrink away. Something was
stirring deep within her--something that had never known life before
this moment--something she had no time to analyze.
Suddenly she wanted more than anything else to feel that mouth pressed
against her own. She lifted her face for Tharn's kiss....
"Dylara!" said a quiet voice.
* * * * *
The man and the girl sprang apart. Facing them, now, was a group of
eight Sepharian warriors, a tall, broad-shouldered young man at their
head.
Dylara knew the leader at once. It was Jotan. She saw that his
expression was very stern, and she knew instinctively that he was
thinking of her in Tharn's embrace.
Jotan ignored the cave-man. "We have been searching for you, Dylara," he
said quietly. "Come, we shall return to Sephar at once."
Before she could frame a reply, Tharn had stepped in front of her. There
followed a tense, electric moment of silence as the two men eyed each
other.
"She is mine," Tharn said, without heat. "She goes with me."
Jotan gestured with one hand. In response, seven spears were leveled at
the cave-man's naked chest.
"You are wrong, my friend," said the leader. "I am taking her with me. I
have nothing against you; you may have your freedom if you go at once.
Otherwise, you go back to Sephar as a prisoner. Resist, and my men will
kill you."
Tharn was thinking rapidly. To attack eight armed men would be a fool's
act. Alurna was waiting for him back there in the jungle. And in Alurna
he had that which would put to naught those seven spears.
Let this man take Dylara back to Sephar. Tharn had only to return with
the princess Alurna and claim his reward from Urim. That reward
was--Dylara! He knew Urim would keep his word, no matter what objections
were offered by this man.
"Well?" The word was clipped, cold, impatient.
Without a word Tharn turned and leaped into the branches overhead. He
had not dared to offer Dylara an encouraging sign, fearing to arouse the
Sepharian's suspicions.
The cave-girl watched him go, disbelief uppermost in her mind. It was
not like Tharn to give up so easily. But did she want him not to give
up? She had thrilled to his strength, his agility and fearlessness
during the encounter with Sadu. No other man could have thus faced the
jungle king with empty hands--and lived.
But were such qualities enough? She stole a glance at the handsome young
Sepharian. In him was more than mere physical appeal. This man gave an
impression of consideration and thoughtfulness. He would never take a
girl against her will as Tharn had done. He was of a race that had
risen above cave life. His people had learned life could mean more than
the hunt--more than sleeping and eating and talking. Would not living be
richer, more full, with this man than it could possibly be with Tharn?
* * * * *
Meanwhile, Tharn was speeding back through the trees to join Alurna. Led
by his unerring sense of direction he soon entered the tree where he had
left her.
She looked up with a relieved smile as he came into view. "I was
beginning to think you had forgotten me," she said warmly. "Whatever
possessed you to run away like that?"
Tharn had never liked giving long explanations. "It was nothing," he
said lightly. "Let us go on."
They descended and walked slowly, side by side, along the trail. Alurna
wondered why the cave-man no longer raced ahead as he had done before.
But Tharn's purpose was clear in his mind: it would be best, he decided,
to let Dylara and the Sepharians enter the city ahead of him.
Nearly two hours later they rounded a bend of the trail and came to a
halt. Alurna gave a little cry of happiness. Directly ahead, beyond a
brief expanse of open ground stood Sephar's walls. Turning to the silent
figure at her side, she caught his arm and, like an eager child, sought
to hurry him on.
Nor did Tharn need persuasion. He had stopped only because his
ever-present sense of caution bade him go slowly. But the impelling hand
at his arm removed the last lingering trace of reluctance.
They were half-way across the clearing before one of several warriors
about a gateway spied them and raised a shout that brought a dozen
guards from inside the walls. At sight of the cave-man and his companion
the entire group came running toward them.
Once more Tharn stopped, hand dropping to the knife at his belt. But the
impatient voice of the princess beat down his suspicion.
"No, Tharn, no! Those are my father's men. They come to welcome us."
His fingers relaxed their hold on the knife, but his hand remained close
to its hilt. And then they were surrounded by the men of Sephar.
This detail was in charge of Lodorth, a tall, rather fleshy warrior of
middle-age, very straight of back and given to the blunt speech of a
soldier. Alurna remembered him as once having been stationed at the
palace.
"Ah, princess," Lodorth said soberly. "We believed you to be dead or
hopelessly lost. I am glad to be first in welcoming you."
Alurna was all smiles. "My father is worried, I know. I must go to him
at once, Lodorth."
An expression which the girl could not define passed across the
officer's face but he made no reply. Instead he turned to his men.
"Disarm this man and bind his hands!" he ordered, jerking a thumb toward
Tharn.
Upon hearing this, the cave-man reached quickly for his knife, but froze
as he felt several cold flint spearheads against the skin of his back.
"Disarm him!" barked the leader curtly.
One of the men stepped forward, and with a wary eye cocked toward the
motionless figure, plucked the stone blade from Tharn's loin-cloth.
Then Alurna found her tongue.
"You are a fool, Lodorth!" she cried, turning on the captain. "This man
saved my life. Give him his knife and show him your respect, or you
shall answer to Urim--and to me!"
Lodorth eyed her stolidly. "Pryak is king, now," he said, his face an
impassive mask. "Urim is dead!"