others from the _Viking_ came into sight, the Venusian stared at them
with strangely startled eyes. He said nothing more, but his glance
seemed to hold a strange, terrible haunting fear.
At the end of the corridor they stepped into a small golden car. A door
closed behind them. The floor shot rapidly upward. A few seconds later
the door of the lift-car swung open again and they stepped out into a
round chamber near the top of the great tower.
"Enter to His Highness Rupin-Sang, Lord of Savissa and the Mountain
Lands, ruler of field and forest and castle, hereditary Warden of the
Great Sea!" the Venusian courtier said sonorously.
The room was circular, with glassless windows set in the walls every few
feet. A warm breeze blew in to stir the tiny metal discs that hung
around near the tops of the walls in a sort of frieze, setting them
swinging till they clashed together with a continuous jingling. A small
fountain murmured in the center of the room. A peculiarly shaped
telescope stood by one wall, and there were other scientific instruments
of a type unfamiliar to the Earth-men.
* * * * *
In a big carved chair in the center sat a very old man, a rolled
parchment lying across his knees. What remained of his hair and beard
were pure white. His face was lined and sunken. He half raised his arm
in a ceremonial gesture of welcome, but then a sudden expression of
alarm came over his face. He pointed with one shaking hand.
"_Aie_--woe to the City of Larr! The hour of the fulfilment of the
prophecy is at hand! Woe to Larr, with its walls and towers!"
Closana hurried to her father's side. A moment later the old man had
regained his calm. He greeted them with formalized speech of welcome
full of old phrases, then added:
"Forgive my agitation when you first entered, _hiziren_, but it brought
to mind the doom-filled phrases of what we of Savissa call the Prophecy
of Jeddah-Khana."
"What is that?"
"It is a very old prophecy, carved in an ancient runic script on the
stone walls of one of the vaults under this tower. Tradition says it was
put there by the Old Ones who built this city, and of whose science we
are the unworthy heirs." Rupin-Sang bowed and touched his forehead as he
mentioned the Old Ones. "The Prophecy states that the day will come when
a red-skinned man and a dark-haired woman and a ruddy, bearded giant
will come together to the city from afar, and that within a month
thereafter the Golden City of Larr will crumble and return to the dust."
"But surely you don't take such old legends seriously!" Gerry said. The
old man smiled.
"My head tells me not to, but superstition is strong in we of Savissa.
However--I can take comfort from the fact that the old legend also
prophecies a re-birth for Savissa after the great catastrophe. But
enough of this talk of portents and legends! I give you welcome to
Savissa, and to the city of Larr. Also, I thank you for rescuing my
youngest daughter from the Scaly Raiders. Whence come ye?"
Gerry sketched in hasty phrases the outline of present conditions on
Earth and Mars, and told of their trip through space to Venus in the
_Viking_. Rupin-Sang nodded without showing any particular surprise.
"And so that's the story," Gerry concluded. "We're curious about some of
your conditions here. The women warriors, for instance...."
"It was not always so in the land of Savissa," Rupin-Sang said with a
faint smile. "In the days of the Old Ones there was a natural balance of
the sexes. But, as the slow centuries passed, the birth rate gradually
changed. Now one child in five thousand born in Savissa is a male. The
few men we do have are needed for certain administrative and scientific
work, particularly the supervision of the alta-radium mines in the
mountains from which we get the raw material for the alta-ray tubes that
are our greatest protection against invasion."
"I saw the tubes on the walls," Gerry said, "but why is it that your
mobile forces are armed only with primitive weapons like bows and
arrows?"
"Because we cannot possibly mine and produce enough of the alta-radium
to do more than supply the defences of the city and of the barrier
forts. The possession of the secret of that ray has kept our borders
free from the Scaly Ones except for isolated raids like the one you
encountered today, but we cannot arm our troops with the ray."
"And the gas-guns of the Scaly Ones?"
"They are a good weapon--but we have not the materials to manufacture
them on this side of the border."
"Sounds like what we used to call a 'balance of power' in the days when
Earth was torn by wars," Gerry said with a smile. "But tell me one thing
more. I notice that in this land you speak an archaic form of Martian."
"The Tempora-scope can tell you the story better than my words."
Rupin-Sang nodded to his attendant, and a cloth cover was removed from a
broad metal disc that was attached to some kind of a machine. He touched
a control lever, and the mechanism began to hum. Blinds were dropped
down over the windows, so that the room was filled with a murky
twilight. The humming sound grew steadily louder. Now the metal disc
glowed with a brilliant light. Momentarily its polished surface clouded
over, as though obscured by a thin fog, and then the mists drifted
aside.
* * * * *
Before them they saw the Universe as it was in the youth of the world,
when roaring volcanoes were still active on the Moon and the rings of
Saturn were just drifting out from the girth of that spinning sphere. It
was as though they were looking out through a circular window somewhere
in the sky. The machine gave a perfect illusion of reality, not merely
tri-dimensional but touching all the senses as well. They could hear the
roar of new-made satellites spinning off into the void, and the rush of
burning gases. They could smell the scent of molten rock.
Then time passed! The planets began to cool. The mud-flats steamed under
a cloudy sun, the mountains shouldered their way upward through the
tilted and riven fields. On the edges of inland seas, the hot shallows
were filled with slimy things that crawled with their bellies dragging.
They could hear the ripple of the waters, and the rustle of warm winds
blowing through the flowerless and fern-like forests. Gerry could smell
the rank odors of the steaming and primitive jungles. There was a
pungent taste on his lips. Once he stretched his hand out toward a
trilobite that seemed to be crawling up to his feet--and he felt the
coarse surface of the shell before he pulled his hand back again.
The picture changed once more, centering on a ruddy planet that swept
toward them while Portok exclaimed at the sight of Mars in the ancient
days before the planets were built. Men and women walked its smooth
fields, among the flaming scarlet flowers. Music and laughter and the
voices of women drifted on the scented winds. But Mars was changing. It
was drying up. Life could no longer be the same. Some of the people were
beginning to draft the plans for the great canals that were to conserve
the planet's failing supply of water, but others took to space-ships and
sailed off into the void.
Then, for the first time, they saw the planet Venus as the Martian
space-ships dropped down through the veiling clouds. They saw those
first pioneers of space land on Venus, and subjugate the natives, and
build mighty cities in the plains. But something happened to the
birth-rate, and most of the science of the Old Ones was lost when a
series of great quakes swept the planet. The holdings of the descendants
of those interplanetary travelers of long ago dwindled to only the city
of Larr and the land of Savissa itself.
The humming of the Tempora-scope died away. The big metal disc again
became blank. The machine had ceased to function, and the illusion of
the reality of the past was gone. They were simply in a shaded tower
room with a tired old man who sat on a carved throne.
"And that is the tale of the rise and decline of our people, _hiziren_,"
he said sadly. "Now the sands of our nation run low. I am half inclined
to believe that the old prophecy will come true, and that this is the
twilight of Savissa and its people. But--enough of that. Raise the
blinds again, Rotosa, so that we may have light while we can. And I ask
you visitors from afar to dine with me tonight before you go back to
your space-ship."
* * * * *
The banquet table was set on the ground floor of the Arrow-Tower, in a
room where an open colonnade looked out on a walled garden behind the
palace of the rulers of Savissa. A carved wooden table was set with
golden plates. Faint music came from some hidden source. In the garden
outside, night birds sang softly and there was a constant sound of
running water from many fountains.
In addition to Rupin-Sang, there were three of his male attendants and
about twenty women. On this ceremonial occasion they supplemented their
usual scanty garb with long and graceful robes that gleamed like silk.
Thin veils were attached to jeweled circlets. Catching a glimpse of the
sullen discontent on Olga Stark's face, Gerry suddenly realized that the
Earth woman was jealous of her own appearance.
"Probably hating my guts right now for making her wear her uniform!" he
thought. "Women are queer!"
To Gerry Norton, that meal was a peaceful interlude between the
monotonous strain of the long interplanetary voyage and the uncertainty
of what lay ahead. Though some of the native dishes tasted strange to
his Earthly palate, the food was generally good. Fragrant, heady wines
from the hill country bordering Savissa were served in colored glass
goblets. A sound of distant singing drifted across the garden.
Gerry was wondering what disaster had overtaken the first expedition
that had set out to reach this planet, the space-ship _Stardust_ that
had left Earth over two years ago under command of Major Walter
Lansing. Perhaps it had landed in some less friendly part of the planet
and been overwhelmed by the natives before it could get away again.
Perhaps it had met some swift disaster in outer space and was now
spinning endlessly in the void--a lifeless and man-made planetoid. In
any case, he would make a thorough search for some trace of the
_Stardust_ before he started back to Earth again.
* * * * *
When the meal was over and they all arose from the table, Gerry noticed
that Angus and Olga Stark walked out into the garden together. It struck
him as an odd combination, for Olga was the one person on board with
whom the genial Scot was not friendly. Then he forgot about it.
A few minutes later Closana took Gerry's arm and led him out into the
garden. Colored lanterns hung here and there along the paths, but most
of the light came from globes of glowing metal that were concealed near
the tops of the trees. The effect was much like Earthly moonlight,
except that the moon was golden instead of silver. Angus and Olga should
have been a few yards ahead of them, but both had disappeared. Gerry
wondered about it--and then a dim figure rose up in the shadows
immediately before him. A cloud of choking gas, hurled squarely in his
face from some sort of flask, filled his lungs with the pain of many
fiery needles.
Gerry crumpled soundlessly to the ground. He could see and hear what
went on, but otherwise he was paralyzed and incapable of sound or
movement. For a moment he thought that Closana was behind some form of
treachery. Then dark figures swarmed around him, lifting him from the
ground, and he saw the dim light gleaming on gray scales. The Scaly Ones
had penetrated to the innermost sanctuary of the City of Larr!
Gerry's head fell back as they lifted him, and he could see that Closana
was equally helpless in the grip of more of the raiders. A section of
grass and bushes was swung back on a hidden trap door, revealing a
flight of moss-covered stone steps leading downward. The two prisoners
were carried down, and the door dropped hollowly into place above them.
* * * * *
They were in a narrow and very ancient stone passage. Moss and lichens
covered the walls, moisture dripped from the ceiling. On the floor in
the midst of another group of the Scaly Ones lay Angus McTavish,
evidently also a victim of the paralyzing gas. Olga Stark stood nearby,
her long dark hair loose about her shoulders and an expression of savage
triumph in her eyes.
"Tie them securely!" she snapped to the officer in command of the Scaly
Men. His long-nosed, brutish face creased in a grim smile.
"It shall be done, Mistress!"
Closana was stripped to her loin-cloth. A cloth gag was twisted into her
mouth, her arms were tied behind her back. Gerry and Angus were treated
in the same way. Control of his muscles was returning swiftly to Gerry
Norton now, as the effects of the gas wore off, but he was already
secured and helpless.
Grim rage filled Gerry then, but even greater than that emotion was his
utter amazement. The thing was completely beyond his understanding. This
was no routine raid of the Scaly Ones against the people of Larr, but a
definite attempt to capture _him_! Strangest of all was the part played
by Olga Stark, who acted as though she was in command of the Scaly Men.
It just wasn't possible--but it was happening.
The three prisoners were pulled to their feet. Guards gripped their
elbows. At the first bend in the passage a small waterfall came down
from above and formed a gurgling stream that ran in a deep gutter at one
side. The air was hot, and moist, and heavy with the scent of running
water and fungus growths. Other jets of water came down from above to
add to the trickle of water until, as the passage widened, a gurgling
torrent ran along beside them. Suddenly Gerry realized where they were.
This was the sewerage system that carried away the waste of the city's
many flowing fountains!
At last they came to the main drain, a vaulted stone passage where a
twenty-foot stream of black water flowed along beside the narrow
foot-path. Tied up there, looking like a sea-monster in the dim light of
the lanterns carried by the Scaly Men, was a metal boat that had only a
narrow deck and a round dome above the water. A crude submarine!
The three prisoners were forced aboard. Their gags were removed, now
that silence no longer mattered, but their arms remained bound and they
were chained by the necks to a steel bar as they sat in a row at one
side of the narrow hull. The raiders cast off, came aboard, and closed
the dome behind them. Motors hummed softly, and then the submarine moved
sluggishly down the stream.
At the moment the three of them were alone. They could see the scaly
skins of some of their captors busied at various tasks in adjoining
compartments, but there was no one within hearing. After twisting
futilely at his bonds for a moment, Gerry leaned back against the steel
bulkhead behind him and looked over at Angus.
"Well--here we are!" he said.
"Aye--so it seems!" The Scot's broad face was grim. "I should have known
that black-haired witch had some deviltry in mind when she asked me to
walk in the garden with her!"
"But where does she fit into the picture? How does she get her control
over these scaly devils?"
"How do I know?" snorted McTavish angrily. "Ask me some more riddles!
What's more to the point is where they're taking us in this queer
craft."
"I can guess that," Closana said quietly. The girl was very pale, but
she smiled faintly as she met Gerry's eyes. "This drain empties into the
Giri river, and a few miles farther along that river forms the boundary
between Savissa and the lands of the Scaly Ones. We have never known
they could travel beneath the water this way."
"What will happen after they get us there?"
"Torture and death. Once any of our people are taken across into the
land of Giri-Vaaka, they never return alive."
"Nice little trip we're taking, Gerry lad!" McTavish growled. "Too bad
you didn't bring your cinema camera along!"
* * * * *
The submarine moved sluggishly ahead, silent except for the hum of its
motors. As Gerry looked around he could see that it was a crudely
constructed and makeshift craft. Even so, it was more than he would have
expected from men of the apparent mentality of the Scaly Ones.
"This is a funny sort of submarine!" he said to Angus. The big engineer,
who had twisted around to peer at the bulkhead directly behind them,
growled deep in his throat.
"It's funnier than ye think, lad! Look at this!" McTavish nodded toward
one of the sheets of thin steel from which the bulkhead had been built.
On the edge there were stamped a few words. The letters were small, and
in the dim light Gerry had to narrow his eyes for a moment before he
could read them.
U. S. Gov't Steel Works
Atlanta, Ga.
"How in Heaven's name did they get that...?" Gerry's voice trailed off
without finishing the sentence. McTavish shrugged.
"Ye don't need more than one guess. The _Stardust_ must have been
wrecked somewhere near here, and these devils took some of her parts to
build this outlandish craft."
At last, long hours later, the submarine came to a stop. As his captors
led him up on deck, Gerry saw that the ungainly craft had grounded in
the shallows on the shore of a broad river. It was just daylight. A pale
yellow light filtered down through the canopy of clouds, and a flight of
marsh-fowl was winging by just overhead.
"Where are we?" asked Gerry.
"This is the Giri River," Closana said. "Savissa lies on the far shore.
This is the land of the Scaly Ones."
Some of the reptile men hauled the submarine into a cove and began to
cover it over with piles of reeds. Some twenty others formed up in a
column with the three prisoners in the center. Then the officer in
command barked an order and they all moved out along a dirt road that
led away from the river. Olga Stark was walking beside the first rank of
scaly warriors. She had not looked at the prisoners at all.
They tramped steadily onward through the dust in silence except for the
dull slap of the webbed feet of the reptile men and the jingle of their
equipment. After a while the officer in command came back to look at the
prisoners. He was a grizzled veteran with shaggy ridges above his eyes
and the long-healed scars of half a dozen old wounds on his scaly body.
McTavish glared at him for a moment.
"Take a good look, sonny boy!" the big Scot growled. "What's your
name--if you have one?"
"I should tear out your tongue for speaking in that tone to an officer
of Giri-Vaaka," the officer said. His voice had the high pitched and
metallic quality typical of his race, and he bared his pointed teeth in
a not unfriendly grin, "but the torturers of the Lord Lansa will take
care of you soon enough. I am Toll, commander of a _strikka_ in the
border guards."
"Where are you taking us?"
Toll grinned wickedly.
"To the palace of Lansa, overlord of all Venus."
* * * * *
Gerry noticed that this countryside of Giri-Vaaka was very different
from the pleasant and cultivated fields of Savissa over which he had
passed the day before. The roads were dirt and half over-grown. Not much
of the country was under cultivation. Strange purple bushes with thorns
a foot long covered much of the land, crowding close on the patches of
forest where ten-foot ferns towered high overhead. Sometimes they came
upon a grazing herd of the yard-long giant ants, who would go galloping
away with their antennae waving in the air and their hard-shelled
leg-joints clicking loudly.
Depression hung on Gerry Norton's chest like a physical weight. It was
not alone the fact that every stride carried them deeper into a grim and
hostile land--prisoners whose doom was probably already sealed--that set
him biting his lower lip till he tasted the salt blood on his tongue.
Nor even the fact that Closana shared the same fate because she happened
to have been with him at the time of the raid. It was also the utter
strangeness of everything. Yesterday, in Savissa, the people and the
mode of life had been nearly enough to normal so that he was not deeply
conscious of the strange vegetation and the other things in which Venus
differed from Earth and Mars.
Now everything seemed different, and alien. The lowering yellow skies of
Venus were ominous. The hot winds brought strange smells and seemed to
carry a hint of doom. The one thought that gave him any real hope was
the fact that Portok the Martian had not been captured with the rest of
them. He must have missed them soon after the abduction. There might be
a chance that he and Steve Brent would bring the _Viking_ to look for
them.
* * * * *
They had begun to pass occasional small farms. These were scanty fields
carved out of the creeping masses of purple thorns, usually with a
roughly thatched hut in the center. On one such occasion the farmer and
his family stood apathetically at the roadside to watch the patrol of
Reptile Men go by.
"But they're not scaly!" Gerry exclaimed. Closana shook her head.
"No. They are of the Green Men of Giri. Once they held this land while
the Scaly Ones dwelt in the marshes of Vaaka farther west, but the Scaly
Ones have now been masters of this place for many generations."
The Green Men, Gerry noticed, looked like ordinary Earthlings except for
a slight greenish cast to their skin. Probably, like the Golden Amazons,
they were also descended from the Old Ones who had come from Mars so
long ago. The ragged and mud-stained farmer gave Toll a perfunctory
salute, and then leaned on his hoe to watch the column pass by.
The warriors of Toll swaggered along the road with the insolent
assurance of men who know themselves masters of all around them. The
farmer's green face was carefully expressionless, but there was a gleam
in his eyes that spoke of no great liking for his scaly masters. When
his glance lingered on Gerry's for an instant, the Earth-man read a
definite sympathy in it.
They camped that night in a clearing beside a small stream. One of the
guards shot a giant ant with his gas-gun, then cracked open the horny
shell with his sword. They cut long strips of the meat and roasted it
over a fire. Though the taste was peculiar the stuff was edible, and
the three prisoners managed to swallow it.
"The condemned man ate a hearty meal!" Angus McTavish said with grim
humor, wiping his fingers on the coarse yellow grass beside him.
Olga had gone on with a faster-moving detachment, and only a dozen Scaly
Ones remained with Toll to guard the three prisoners. Gerry and Closana
sat side by side before the fire, their bare shoulders touching. The
ruddy and flickering glow of the firelight touched Angus' giant frame a
little farther around the circle, and then the scaly skins and long
snouts of the reptile men watching them. Gerry clasped his arms around
his knees.
"Y'know Angus, at the moment we're living as our ancestors must have
lived long generations ago. No ray-tubes or dura-steel armor. No
portable electro-phones. Not even a low-speed rocket car to carry us
along. It must have been this way back in the days when they built that
little old building that's now used for a museum in New York. The Empire
State Building."
"You've got your dates mixed, laddie," McTavish yawned. "The Empire
State was built in the twentieth century, and even the people of those
queer old days were more advanced than most of what we've seen of life
on this planet of Venus."
"I don't suppose those Ancients knew what they were missing."
"Maybe they were better off! At least they only got into trouble on
their own Earth instead of wandering off to other planets like a pack of
fools as we have!"
Toll and two of his men came toward them, carrying the ropes with which
they had earlier been bound.
"Sorry, but I must tie you up for the night," he said. For an instant
Gerry thought of making a break. If he could get away he might find some
way of rescuing the others. Then he decided against it. One of the
reptile men would be almost sure to bring him down with a gas-gun before
he got out of the circle of firelight, in spite of the greater strength
of his Earthly muscles. So he shrugged, and allowed the guards to tie
him up again. For quite a while he lay awake, hoping to hear the hum of
the _Viking's_ motors, but at last he fell asleep.
* * * * *