So this was the last Lord of the Caverns. Garin leaned closer to study
the dead face but Urg seemed to have lost his patience. He hurried his
charge on to a panel door.
"This is the southern portal of the Caverns," he explained. "Trust to
the Ana to guide you and beware of the boiling mud. Should the morgels
scent you, kill quickly, they are the servants of the Black Ones. May
fortune favor you, outlander."
The door was open and Garin looked out upon Tav. The soft blue light was
as strong as it had been when he had first seen it. With the Ana perched
on his shoulder, the green rod and the bag of food in his hands, he
stepped out onto the moss sod.
Urg raised his hand in salute and the door clicked into place. Garin
stood alone, pledged to bring the Daughter out of the Caves of Darkness.
There is no night or day in Tav since the blue light is steady. But the
Folk divide their time by artificial means. However Garin, being newly
come from the rays of healing, felt no fatigue. As he hesitated, the Ana
chattered and pointed confidently ahead.
Before them was a dense wood of fern trees. It was quiet in the forest
as Garin made his way into its gloom and for the first time he noted a
peculiarity of Tav. There were no birds.
The portion of the woodland they had to traverse was but a spur of the
forest to the west. After an hour of travel they came out upon the bank
of a sluggish river. The turbid waters of the stream were a dull saffron
color. This, thought Garin, must be the River of Gold, the boundary of
the lands of the Black Ones.
He rounded a bend to come upon a bridge, so old that time itself had
worn its stone angles into curves. The bridge gave on a wide plain
where tall grass grew sere and yellow. To the left was a hissing and
bubbling, and a huge wave of boiling mud arose in the air. Garin choked
in a wind, thick with chemicals, which blew from it. He smelled and
tasted the sulphur-tainted air all across the plain.
And he was glad enough to plunge into a small fern grove which
half-concealed a spring. There he bathed his head and arms while the Ana
pulled open Sera's food bag.
Together they ate the cakes of grain and the dried fruit. When they were
done the Ana tugged at Garin's hand and pointed on.
Cautiously Garin wormed his way through the thick underbrush until, at
last, he looked out into a clearing and at its edge the entrance of the
Black Ones' Caves. Two tall pillars, carved into the likeness of foul
monsters, guarded a rough-edged hole. A fine greenish mist whirled and
danced in its mouth.
The flyer studied the entrance. There was no life to be seen. He gripped
the destroying rod and inched forward. Before the green mist he braced
himself and then stepped within.
_CHAPTER SIX_
_Kepta's Second Prisoner_
The green mist enveloped Garin. He drew into his lungs hot moist air
faintly tinged with a scent of sickly sweetness, as from some hidden
corruption. Green motes in the air gave forth little light and seemed to
cling to the intruder.
With the Ana pattering before him, the American started down a steep
ramp, the soft soles of his buskins making no sound. At regular
intervals along the wall, niches held small statues. And about each
perverted figure was a crown of green motes.
The Ana stopped, its large ears outspread as if to catch the faintest
murmur of sound. From somewhere under the earth came the howls of a
maddened dog. The Ana shivered, creeping closer to Garin.
Down led the ramp, growing narrower and steeper. And louder sounded the
insane, coughing howls of the dog. Then the passage was abruptly barred
by a grill of black stone. Garin peered through its bars at a flight of
stairs leading down into a pit. From the pit arose snarling laughter.
Padding back and forth were things which might have been conceived by
demons. They were sleek, rat-like creatures, hairless, and large as
ponies. Red saliva dripped from the corners of their sharp jaws. But in
the eyes, which they raised now and then toward the grill, there was
intelligence. These were the morgels, watchdogs and slaves of the Black
Ones.
From a second pair of stairs directly across the pit arose a moaning
call. A door opened and two men came down the steps. The morgels surged
forward, but fell back when whips were cracked over their heads.
The masters of the morgels were human in appearance. Black loin cloths
were twisted about them and long, wing-shaped cloaks hung from their
shoulders. On their heads, completely masking their hair, were cloth
caps which bore ragged crests not unlike cockscombs. As far as Garin
could see they were unarmed except for their whips.
A second party was coming down the steps. Between two of the Black Ones
struggled a prisoner. He made a desperate and hopeless fight of it, but
they dragged him to the edge of the pit before they halted. The morgels,
intent upon their promised prey, crouched before them.
Five steps above were two figures to whom the guards looked for
instructions. One was a man of their race, of slender, handsome body and
evil, beautiful face. His hand lay possessively upon the arm of his
companion.
It was Thrala who stood beside him, her head proudly erect. The laughter
curves were gone from her lips; there was only sorrow and resignation to
be read there now. But her spirit burned like a white flame in her eyes.
"Look!" her warder ordered. "Does not Kepta keep his promises? Shall we
give Dandtan into the jaws of our slaves, or will you unsay certain
words of yours, Lady Thrala?"
The prisoner answered for her. "Kepta, son of vileness, Thrala is not
for you. Remember, beloved one," he spoke to the Daughter, "the day of
deliverance is at hand--"
Garin felt a sudden emptiness. The prisoner had called Thrala "beloved"
with the ease of one who had the right.
"I await Thrala's answer," Kepta returned evenly. And her answer he got.
"Beast among beasts, you may send Dandtan to his death, you may heap all
manner of insult and evil upon me, but still I say the Daughter is not
for your touch. Rather will I cut the line of life with my own hands,
taking upon me the punishment of the Elder Ones. To Dandtan," she smiled
down upon the prisoner, "I say farewell. We shall meet again beyond the
Curtain of Time." She held out her hands to him.
"Thrala, dear one--!" One of his guards slapped a hand over the
prisoner's mouth putting an end to his words.
But now Thrala was looking beyond him, straight at the grill which
sheltered Garin. Kepta pulled at her arm to gain her attention. "Watch!
Thus do my enemies die. To the pit with him!"
The guards twisted their prisoner around and the morgels crept closer,
their eyes fixed upon that young, writhing body. Garin knew that he must
take a hand in the game. The Ana was tugging him to the right, and there
was an open archway leading to a balcony running around the side of the
pit.
Those below were too entranced by the coming sport to notice the
invader. But Thrala glanced up and Garin thought that she sighted him.
Something in her attitude attracted Kepta, he too looked up. For a
moment he stared in stark amazement, and then he thrust the Daughter
through the door behind him.
"Ho, outlander! Welcome to the Caves. So the Folk have meddled--"
"Greeting, Kepta." Garin hardly knew whence came the words which fell so
easily from his tongue. "I have come as was promised, to remain until
the Black Throne is no more."
"Not even the morgels boast before their prey lies limp in their jaws,"
flashed Kepta. "What manner of beast are you?"
"A clean beast, Kepta, which you are not. Bid your two-legged morgels
loose the youth, lest I grow impatient." The flyer swung the green rod
into view.
Kepta's eyes narrowed but his smile did not fade. "I have heard of old
that the Ancient Ones do not destroy--"
"As an outlander I am not bound by their limits," returned Garin, "as
you will learn if you do not call off your stinking pack."
The master of the Caves laughed. "You are as the Tand, a fool without a
brain. Never shall you see the Caverns again--"
"You shall own me master yet, Kepta."
The Black Chief seemed to consider. Then he waved to his men. "Release
him," he ordered. "Outlander, you are braver than I thought. We might
bargain--"
"Thrala goes forth from the Caves and the black throne is dust, those
are the terms of the Caverns."
"And if we do not accept?"
"Then Thrala goes forth, the throne is dust and Tav shall have a day of
judging such as it has never seen before."
"You challenge me?"
Again words, which seemed to Garin to have their origin elsewhere, came
to him. "As in Yu-Lac, I shall take--"
Before Kepta could reply there was trouble in the pit. Dandtan, freed by
his guards, was crossing the floor in running leaps. Garin threw himself
belly down on the balcony and dropped the jeweled strap of his belt over
the lip.
A moment later it snapped taut and he stiffened to an upward pull.
Already Dandtan's heels were above the snapping jaws of a morgel. The
flyer caught the youth around the shoulders and heaved. They rolled
together against the wall.
"They are gone! All of them!" Dandtan cried, as he regained his feet. He
was right; the morgels howled below, but Kepta and his men had vanished.
"Thrala!" Garin exclaimed.
Dandtan nodded. "They have taken her back to the cells. They believe her
safe there."
"Then they think wrong." Garin stooped to pick up the green rod. His
companion laughed.
"We'd best start before they get prepared for us."