"Going back into time," he said cheerfully. The dials were beside him.
"Nearly forty years from where we started already. You'll feel all right
soon."
"I am all right," she persisted. "I mean, George, are we still in the
cavern?"
The question brought an idea to George that made his heart race. They
_were_ still in the cavern, at a time forty years previous. What was the
cavern like then? Suppose its entrance was closed? How could they get
out?
Through the windows nothing could be seen but blackness. George
hesitated.
"Dee, can your thoughts still reach Azeela?"
"Yes," she said. "She was frightened for me. She knows now we are coming
after her. She and Toroh are past one hundred years."
"Still going?"
"Yes."
"Where are they in space?"
"She says in the air, over the Orleen Cavern. She thought it best to
show Toroh how to fly the plane; she was afraid to remain underground."
"So am I," said George. "We'd better get out."
There were headlights on the plane; their glare showed the tunnel.
George started up the Frazia motors, slowly; they rolled forward,
faster as they left the tunnel-mouth and took to the air.
The scene was that familiar grayness, new to Dee. Beneath them lay the
island with the blurred, gray city to one side.
"Over Orleen," George mused. "We must get there quickly. Further back in
time the city will not be there--we might get lost in space."
At an altitude of perhaps a thousand feet they flew swiftly westward.
Orleen was there when they reached its space; the dials were beyond two
hundred years.
"Azeela is here," Dee announced. "She says the city is dwindling."
"What do her dials say? Will Toroh let her look at them?"
"Yes. She is very careful. He suspects nothing. She says the dials are
nearly two hundred and thirty years."
"We're catching up with them," George exclaimed triumphantly. "We've got
the faster plane. Where are they exactly? In space I mean."
A brief pause.
"Azeela says almost directly over the peak near the east edge of the
city--the cavern peak."
There were twin peaks, not over six hundred feet apart. The cavern peak
was the northern one; through the floor window, George could see the
summit of the other, directly beneath his plane.
"How high is Toroh? They're using the 'copters?"
"Yes."
"How high up?"
"She says about five hundred feet."
It was the altitude at which George and Dee were hovering. George gazed
through the side window. The other peak showed plainly. Above it was the
exact space Toroh and Azeela were occupying. Their plane was invisible,
of course--twenty-five years into the past.
"They've passed three hundred years, George," the girl's voice informed
him. "Three hundred years just now."
"Two hundred and ninety," he read from their own dials. "Only ten years
away! We'll overtake them shortly now."
In the stress through which they had passed, and their excitement,
neither of them had considered what they would do when they overtook
Toroh. Indeed, it was Azeela who brought it to their minds with her
anxious questions to Dee.
They stared at each other in dismay.
"How about my thunderbolt glove?" George suggested.
"We can't use it," she reminded him. "If we destroy the other plane,
Azeela would be killed."
It was obvious. They could not attack the other plane under any
circumstances. But Toroh was going to stop for weapons. They would have
to stay near him, both in space and time, and when he stopped, and
perhaps left the plane, they would rush up and rescue Azeela.
It was all either of them could plan.
"Keep as near them as we can," George decided. "That's the idea. And
watch our chance. Tell Azeela to keep you posted on everything."
They slowed their time-flight a trifle; it would have been foolish to
let Toroh see them--merely put him on his guard. At a distance of about
ten years they followed.
At eight hundred years before the time they had left, the city of Orleen
had disappeared. The island looked almost the same; the peaks were still
there. But now among the palms there were only a few rude shacks--the
earliest Bas settlers.
The time-velocity of both planes was steadily increasing. Azeela's
messages told them that the other plane was still hovering motionless.
There was nothing to do. They waited, anxiously at first, and then,
after an interval, fell into earnest conversation.
"Suppose we can't rescue Azeela," George suggested once. "Toroh will use
her as a hostage against your father, won't he? Offer her life, perhaps,
if your father will help him in the war?"
She nodded soberly.
"That's why he abducted her before, Loto said. Did he make the offer
then?"
"No. But he was going to."
"Why didn't you go after her?" he suggested. "Didn't she send back
messages to you, Dee?"
"Yes. But he took her north into the snow. She did not know where she
was. Father sent out an expedition, but they couldn't find her. The
Noths attacked them and they came back. They were going to start out
again when Loto returned her to us."
"Oh," said George. He thought a moment. "I wonder what your father would
have done--what he would do now if Toroh holds Azeela and offers her
life against the war. Would your father let Toroh kill her?"
She hesitated. "I think he would," she said at last. "It would be a
nation against one life. He would sacrifice himself, I know. And I think
he would even sacrifice Azeela."
George met her earnest dark eyes, so sparkling, usually, but now so
sombre.
"Would you, Dee?"
"No," she said impulsively.
"Neither would I," he declared. "I wouldn't let harm come to Azeela for
all the Anglese,--or harm to--to you, either."
She did not answer. Presently he said:
"I was thinking about that Aran Festival, Dee. You know you oughtn't to
go to affairs like that. _Do_ you know it?"
Her gaze met his again, questioningly. "It is part of life," she said.
"My father thinks Azeela and I should know what life is. In your
time-world was it wrong?"