An Enemy's Life
It mattered little to Ramey Winters that the smallest of the followers
of Ravana towered a good head and shoulders above himself. Given a
moment's time to prepare for trouble, an opportunity to set himself,
he would have gladly matched his wits and strength against that of his
captors. If brute power alone were to be considered, neither he nor any
Earthman could stand against the giant Videlians. But he had in his
belt a Twentieth Century weapon that was, indeed, as the gangsters of
Ramey's era had termed it, an "equalizer"....
But he did not draw his automatic. The attack was too sudden and too
unexpected ... and by the time he felt hard Videlian hands upon him he
did not need the mutely warning glance of Sheng-ti to remind him that
this was one time the adage about discretion being the better part of
valor well applied.
Meekly he permitted himself to be hauled forward to the quai-side,
where waited one apparently captain of those who were shipping the new
slaves to Lanka. This one scowled as he eyed the new captives.
"Well," he roared in a voice of thunder, "and how did you two get away?"
It was Sheng-ti who answered, smoothly, calmly, ingratiatingly. "We
did not 'get away,' my Lord. We have but just arrived. My friend and
I are voyagers from distant Penang, come to seek employment in the
establishment of the mighty Lord Ravana, whose fame has reached our
ears."
"Employment!" The overseer stared at him blankly for a second. Then
his laughter burst in a great guffaw. "You'll find employment, all
right! Thalakka--chain these fools with the others!"
The one to whom he spoke, himself an officer of rank to judge by his
trappings, said, "Chain them, Seshana?"
"Those were my orders."
"Forgive me, sir, but--do you think that is necessary in this case?
These men are not captive slave, being taken to Lanka against their
will. They came here of their own volition ... freely offered their
services." Then, hastily, as his superior's brow darkened: "I am
returning to the island on the next boat myself, sir. If you wish, I
shall see that they are transported thither and turned over to whomever
judges such cases."
Seshana said mockingly, "I had not dreamed there was such tenderness
within your bosom, Captain Thalakka. Be careful your noble sentiments
do not someday send you to languish in the dungeons with that
chicken-hearted fool, Vibhishana. But--" He shrugged--"I suppose
there's no harm in it. Very well, then. Take them away!"
And he went back to his work with lash and cry as the friendly Videlian
led Ramey and Sheng-ti to a boat just preparing to pull out from the
wharf. A boatswain cried the command, a dozen oars spidered the surface
of the blue water, and the great, awkward transport ferry set forth
across the lake. Thus, free men still, but under sufferance only, Ramey
and his friend embarked for the island fortress of Ravana.
* * * * *
It was on the journey across the lagoon that Ramey realized for the
first time just how great was the problem of defeating the lord Ravana.
His island citadel lay a good four miles from the shore. Four miles
which, in an era that knew no motorboats, no sea-sleds, must
necessarily be laboriously traversed in open skiffs propelled by
man-power. Even had Ravana not the ammunition wherewith to charge the
Bow of Rudra, his archers would find the occupants of invading craft
easy prey. And if he had, by now, charged the Bow--
In any event, invasion seemed a complete impossibility. For even
should a score, a hundred boatloads of fighters gain the shores of
Lanka, the problem still confronted them of gaining entrance to the
fortress itself. And as the boat in which they were passengers drew
nearer, Ramey saw the high, gray walls of the citadel, the buttressed
stanchions lined with watchful warriors, the mighty gates and ramparts,
and he knew that never in this world could the ape-soldiers of Sugriva
successfully storm this salient.
The single hope remained that he and Sheng-ti could somehow get back
the Bow from Ravana. Then battle might not be necessary. Before the
threat of its use, the giant leader would be forced to capitulate.
As Ramey pondered thus, Sheng-ti was skillfully prodding the friendly
Videlian captain for information that might be of some value.
Admiringly he commented on the greatness of the fort toward which they
oared. The Martian was pleased.
"It is the mightiest fortress on this strange planet," he boasted
pridefully. "Oh, not so strong, perhaps as some on our lovely Videlia.
But strong enough to withstand the attack of any enemy _here_.
Moreover--" He leaned forward confidentially--"Our lord Ravana has just
returned from Chitrakuta with a new and mighty weapon which assures our
lasting invulnerability. A magic bow with the power to destroy anything
which offends its archer!"
Ramey struggled to mask the eagerness in his eyes, drew an expression
of incredulity to his lips.
"A _magic_ bow?" he repeated. "How--how know you it is magic? Have you
seen it shoot?"
"No-o-o," answered the garrulous Videlian reluctantly. "Not as yet. Our
Lord has not seen fit to demonstrate its powers yet. There are certain
spells he must cast upon it yet, I understand. But we know its power.
Our spies have long time told us--"
* * * * *
Ramey heaved an inward sigh of relief. Then so far the Martian overlord
had not yet found the time, or the ammunition to feed the Bow's lethal
chamber. But his moment of relief passed as the Videlian continued.
"Not only that, but we have won to our cause even the very gods of this
planet! Know you who returned this morn to Lanka with the lord Ravana?
An Earth goddess!"
"Sheila!" cried Ramey.
But fortunately the Videlian misinterpreted his cry. He smiled
serenely. "Ah, then she is a goddess of your race?"
Ramey said slowly, "She is ... of my race ... yes. And where is this
goddess now?"
Captain Thalakka smiled slyly. "Where else but in the apartment next
to that of Lord Ravana? They say she and our Lord are to be wed. You
hear that, Earthmen? That will convince you that we of Videlia are a
superior race, will it not? When your very gods mate with our people?"
It was well he expected no answer, and well he was not looking at Ramey
as he spoke. For the young airman's eyes were ablaze with anger, his
fists had knotted; he looked very little, at this moment, like the
humble laborer he pretended to be. But the trip was almost finished,
now, and the boat was drawing awkwardly into a slip before the citadel
of Lanka. Wharf, dock and landing-place were aswarm with bustling
figures. Slaves disgorged from their vessels now being driven to their
quarters, oarsmen readying for a return trip to the mainland, warriors
watching the excitement with amused interest ... even courtiers looking
down from an overhanging balcony on the busy scene below. Captain
Thalakka called an order to the boatswain, the craft wheeled slowly,
stirred into its slip.
And as it did so, another boat, sliding from an adjacent dock, swung
with the stream and began to edge lazily toward their own. In an
instant, Ramey saw the danger of collision. He cried, "Look out, there!
Hard a-port--!"
His cry came too late. The second craft nudged into them; not
violently, but with turgid insistence. The oarsmen were caught off
balance; there came the _snap!_ of splintering wood as oars shattered
like matchsticks, a cry of pain as one rower was rammed brutally into
the thwarts. Then another cry ... a shrill scream of terror....
* * * * *
Ramey whirled just in time to see Captain Thalakka, who had risen in
his place, hurtle out of the boat. Asprawl he hit the water, kicking,
flailing frantically.
Ramey's first impulse was to laugh. Captain Thalakka was far from an
imposing figure _now_. Dripping like a rain-drenched rat, he came up
spluttering. And then--
Went down again! With a bubbling cry of fear!
The laughter died on Ramey's lips as, glancing about him swiftly, he
saw that not a companion of Thalakka's had moved a muscle to help their
brother-at-arms! Instead, their faces were as pallid as that of the
struggling man ... and every one of them seemed to shrink from doing
anything to help.
It took but a word from Sheng-ti to clarify the situation. The single
word, "Drowning! He's drowning, Ramey!"
And suddenly Ramey realized that, incredible as it sounded to an
Earthman, this was the absolute truth! Thalakka was a Martian, born of
a race whose planet had long been well-nigh waterless, a race whose
sluggish canals barely supplied sustenance to the few, hardy plants
that sucked their moisture. And the Videlians did not know how to swim!
Even in a situation like this, where an Earth child could have paddled
his way to safety in the twinkling of an eye, Captain Thalakka's life
was in deadly peril!
To think, with Ramey Winters, was to act. It barely mattered that
Thalakka was of another race, aye, even of another world. In a flash,
the young Earthman was on his feet; then, with a splash, he was diving
after the submerged body of the Martian.
His hands, groping for a hold, found Thalakka at the same moment the
Videlian's frantic clutch found him. Desperate arms wrapped around his
neck, engulfing, swaddling him, choking the breath from his lungs.
The Martian's weight was like a leaden anchor, dragging him to the
bottom. But there came to Ramey memory of lifesaving drill learned in a
college. Instinctively his hands did the proper thing.
Right hand _so_--on Thalakka's left elbow. Left hand _thus_, on the
Martian's right wrist. A twist ... a shrug ... and he was behind
the Martian, treading water, holding the other man's right arm in a
straining hammerlock, gulping in great life-giving draughts of air.
* * * * *
After that, his task was simple. With the Martian's face cupped in his
left hand, he kicked out strongly for the boat. Sheng-ti was at the
boat-side to grip his burden, lift him over the thwarts. And seconds
later, rescued and rescuer were being put safely ashore, ears dinning
under the cascading roars of an excited group of on-lookers.
Then it was that Captain Thalakka turned to Winters, held forth his
hand in a gesture that meant one thing on any world.
"I thank you, man of Earth," he said gratefully. "I owe my life to you.
And Thalakka, Captain of the Torthian Guard, will not forget."
"That's all right, chum," grinned Ramey. "A little swim goes good on a
hot day like this. But I'd take a few lessons in the Australian crawl,
if I were you."
He reached up to brush his dripping hair from his forehead. And as
he did so, on his fingers he saw that which brought a sudden spasm
of fear to his heart. For the fingers which had brushed his forehead
were--yellow-brown! The dye! The dye with which he had been painted had
streaked and run!
Even as the knowledge struck him, came corroboration in a cry from the
overhanging balcony above his head. A call in tones that Ramey Winters
recognized all too well, the vibrant, bell-like voice of the Lady
Rakshasi.
"Warriors! Seize that man! Seize him and guard him well! He is a spy
from the camp of our enemy, Sugriva!"