standing in the bow of the first canoe?” Tanar raised one of the heavy
pistols and took aim, but the girl laid a hand upon his arm.
“Wait,” she begged. “They may be friendly. Do not fire unless you must—I
hate killing.”
“I can well believe that you are no Korsar,” he said, lowering the
muzzle of his weapon.
There came a hail from the leading canoe. “We are prepared for you,
Korsars,” shouted the tall warrior standing in the bow. “You are few in
numbers. We are many. Your great canoe is a useless wreck; ours are
manned by twenty warriors each. You are helpless. We are strong. It is
not always thus and this time it is not we who shall be taken prisoners,
but you, if you attempt to land.
“But we are not like you, Korsars. We do not want to kill or capture. Go
away and we shall not harm you.”
“We cannot go away,” replied Tanar. “Our ship is helpless. We are only
two and our food and water are nearly exhausted. Let us land and remain
until we can prepare to return to our own countries.”
The warrior turned and conversed with the others in his canoe. Presently
he faced Tanar again.
“No,” he said; “my people will not permit Korsars to come among us. They
do not trust you. Neither do I. If you do not go away we shall take you
as prisoners and your fate will be in the hands of the Council of the
Chiefs.”
“But we are not Korsars,” explained Tanar.
The warrior laughed. “You speak a lie,” he said. “Do you think that we
do not know the ships of Korsar?”
“This is a Korsar ship,” replied Tanar; “but we are not Korsars. We were
prisoners and when they abandoned their ship in a great storm they left
us aboard.”
Again the Warriors conferred and those in other canoes that had drawn
alongside the first joined in the discussion.
“Who are you then?” demanded the spokesman.
“I am Tanar of Pellucidar. My father is King of Sari.”
“We are all of Pellucidar,” replied the warrior; “but we never heard of
a country called Sari. And the woman—she is your mate?”
“No!” cried Stellara, haughtily. “I am not his mate.”
“Who are you? Are you a Sarian, also?”
“I am no Sarian. My father and mother were of Amiocap.”
Again the warriors talked among themselves, some seeming to favor one
idea, some another.
“Do you know the name of this country?” finally demanded the leading
warrior, addressing Stellara.
“No,” she replied.
“We were about to ask you that very question,” said Tanar.
“And the woman is from Amiocap?” demanded the warrior.
“No other blood flows in my veins,” said Stellara, proudly.
“Then it is strange that you do not recognize your own land and your own
people,” cried the warrior. “This is the island of Amiocap!”
Stellara voiced a low cry of pleased astonishment. “Amiocap!” she
breathed softly, as to herself. The tone was a caress, but the warriors
in the canoes were too far away to hear her. They thought she was silent
and embarrassed because they had discovered her deception.
“Go away!” they cried again.
“You will not send me away from the land of my parents!” cried Stellara,
in astonishment.
“You have lied to us,” replied the tall warrior. “You are not of
Amiocap. You do not know us, nor do we know you.”
“Listen!” cried Tanar. “I was a prisoner aboard this ship and, being no
Korsar, the girl told me her story long before we sighted this land. She
could not have known that we were near your island. I do not know that
she even knew its location, but nevertheless I believe that her story is
true.
“She has never said that she was from Amiocap, but that her parents
were. She has never seen the island before now. Her mother was stolen by
the Korsars before she was born.”
Again the warriors spoke together in low tones for a moment and then,
once more, the spokesman addressed Stellara.
“What was your mother’s name?” he demanded. “Who was your father?”
“My mother was called Allara,” replied the girl. “I never saw my father,
but my mother said that he was a chief and a great tandor hunter, called
Fedol.”
At a word from the tall warrior in the bow of the leading canoe from the
warriors paddled slowly nearer the drifting hulk, and as they approached
the ship’s waist Tanar and Stellara descended to the main deck, which
was now almost awash, so deep the ship rode because of the water in her
hold, and as the canoe drifted alongside, the warriors, with the
exception of a couple, laid down their paddles and stood ready with
their bone-tipped spears.
Now the two upon the ship’s deck and the tall warrior in the canoe stood
almost upon the same level and face to face. The latter was a
smooth-faced man with finely molded features and clear, gray eyes that
bespoke intelligence and courage. He was gazing intently at Stellara, as
though he would search her very soul for proof of the veracity or
falsity of her statements. Presently he spoke.
“You might well be her daughter,” he said; “the resemblance is
apparent.”
“You knew my mother?” exclaimed Stellara.
“I am Vulhan. You have heard her speak of me?”
“My mother’s brother!” exclaimed Stellara, with deep emotion, but there
was no answering emotion in the manner of the Amiocap warrior. “My
father, where is he? Is he alive?”
“That is the question,” said Vulhan, seriously. “Who is your father!
Your mother was stolen by a Korsar. If the Korsar is your father, you
are a Korsar.”
“But he is not my father. Take me to my own father—although he has never
seen me he will know me and I shall know him.”
“It will do no harm,” said a warrior who stood close to Vulhan. “If the
girl is a Korsar we shall know what to do with her.”
“If she is the spawn of the Korsar who stole Allara, Vulhan and Fedol
will know how to treat her,” said Vulhan savagely.
“I am not afraid,” said Stellara.
“And this other,” said Vulhan, nodding toward Tanar. “What of him?”
“He was a prisoner of war that the Korsars were taking back to Korsar.
Let him come with you. His people are not sea people. He could not
survive by the sea alone.”
“You are sure that he is no Korsar?” demanded Vulhan.
“Look at him!” exclaimed the girl. “The men of Amiocap must know the
people of Korsar well by sight. Does this one look like a Korsar?”
Vulhan was forced to admit that he did not. “Very well,” he said, “he
may come with us, but whatever your fate, he must share it.”
“Gladly,” agreed Tanar.
The two quit the deck of the derelict as places were made for them in
the canoe and as the little craft was paddled rapidly toward shore
neither felt any sorrow at parting from the drifting hulk that had been
their home for so long. The last they saw of her, just as they were
entering the cove, from which they had first seen the canoes emerge, she
was drifting slowly with the ocean current parallel with the green shore
of Amiocap.
At the upper end of the cove the canoes were beached and dragged beneath
the concealing foliage of the luxuriant vegetation. Here they were
turned bottom side up and left until occasion should again demand their
use.
The warriors of Amiocap conducted their two prisoners into the jungle
that grew almost to the water’s edge. At first there was no sign of
trail and the leading warriors forced their way through the lush
vegetation, which fortunately was free from thorns and briers, but
presently they came upon a little path which opened into a broad, well
beaten trail along which the party moved in silence.
During the march Tanar had an opportunity to study the men of Amiocap
more closely and he saw that almost without exception they were
symmetrically built, with rounded, flowing muscles that suggested a
combination of agility and strength. Their features were regular, and
there was not among them one who might be termed ugly. On the whole
their expressions were open rather than cunning and kindly rather than
ferocious; yet the scars upon the bodies of many of them and their well
worn and efficient looking, though crude, weapons suggested that they
might be bold hunters and fierce warriors. There was a marked dignity in
their carriage and demeanor which appealed to Tanar as did their
taciturnity, for the Sarians themselves are not given to useless talk.
Stellara, walking at his side, appeared unusually happy and there was an
expression of contentment upon her face that the Sarian had never seen
there before. She had been watching him as well as the Amiocapians, and
now she addressed him in a whisper.
“What do you think of my people?” she asked, proudly. “Are they not
wonderful?”
“They are a fine race,” he replied, “and I hope for your sake that they
will believe that you are one of them.”
“It is all just as I have dreamed it so many times,” said the girl, with
a happy sigh. “I have always known that some day I should come to
Amiocap and that it would be just as my mother told me that it was—the
great trees, the giant ferns, the gorgeous, flowering vines and bushes.
There are fewer savage beasts here than in other parts of Pellucidar and
the people seldom war among themselves, so that for the most part they
live in peace and contentment, broken only by the raids of the Korsars
or an occasional raid upon their fields and villages by the great
tandors. Do you know what tandors are, Tanar? Do you have them in your
country?”
Tanar nodded. “I have heard of them in Amoz,” he said, “though they are
rare in Sari.”
“There are thousands of them upon the island of Amiocap,” said the girl,
“and my people are the greatest tandor hunters in Pellucidar.”
Again they walked on in silence, Tanar wondering what the attitude of
the Amiocapians would be towards them, and if friendly whether they
would be able to assist him in making his way back to the distant
mainland, where Sari lay. To this primitive mountaineer it seemed little
short of hopeless even to dream of returning to his native land, for the
sea appalled him, nor did he have any conception as to how he might set
a course across its savage bosom, or navigate any craft that he might
later find at his disposal; yet so powerful is the homing instinct in
the Pellucidarians that there was no doubt in his mind that so long as
he lived he would always be searching for a way back to Sari.
He was glad that he did not have to worry about Stellara, for if it was
true that she was among her own people she could remain upon Amiocap and
there would rest upon him no sense of responsibility for her return to
Korsar; but if they did not accept her—that was another matter; then
Tanar would have to seek for means of escape from an island peopled by
enemies and he would have to take Stellara with him.
But this train of thought was interrupted by a sudden exclamation from
Stellara. “Look!” she cried. “Here is a village; perhaps it is the very
village of my mother.”
“What did you say?” inquired a warrior, walking near them.
“I said that perhaps this is the village where my mother lived before
she was stolen by the Korsars.”
“And you say that your mother was Allara?” inquired the warrior.
“Yes.”
“This was indeed the village in which Allara lived,” said the warrior;
“but do not hope, girl, that you will be received as one of them, for
unless your father also was of Amiocap, you are not an Amiocapian. It
will be hard to convince any one that you are not the daughter of a
Korsar father, and as such you are a Korsar and no Amiocapian.”
“But how can you know that my father was a Korsar?” demanded Stellara.
“We do not have to know,” replied the warrior; “it is merely a matter of
what we believe, but that is a question that will have to be settled by
Zural, the chief of the village of Lar.”
“Lar,” repeated Stellara. “That is the village of my mother! I have
heard her speak of it many times. This, then, must be Lar.”
“It is,” replied the warrior, “and presently you shall see Zural.”
The village of Lar consisted of perhaps a hundred thatched huts, each of
which was divided into two or more rooms, one of which was invariably an
open sitting room without walls, in the center of which was a stone
fireplace. The other rooms were ordinarily tightly walled and
windowless, affording the necessary darkness for the Amiocapians when
they wished to sleep.
The entire clearing was encircled by the most remarkable fence that
Tanar had ever seen. The posts, instead of being set in the ground, were
suspended from a heavy fiber rope that ran from tree to tree, the lower
ends of the posts hanging at least four feet above the ground. Holes had
been bored through the posts at intervals of twelve or eighteen inches
and into these were inserted hardwood stakes, four or five feet in
length and sharpened at either end. These stakes protruded from the
posts in all directions, parallel with the ground, and the posts were
hung at such a distance from one another that the points of the stakes,
protruding from contiguous posts, left intervals of from two to four
feet between. As a safeguard against an attacking enemy they seemed
futile to Tanar, for in entering the village the party had passed
through the open spaces between the posts without being hindered by the
barrier.
But conjecture as to the purpose of this strange barrier was crowded
from his thoughts by other more interesting occurrences, for no sooner
had they entered the village than they were surrounded by a horde of
men, women and children.
“Who are these?” demanded some.
“They say that they are friends,” replied Vulhan, “but we believe that
they are from Korsar.”
“Korsars!” cried the villagers.
“I am no Korsar,” cried Stellara, angrily. “I am the daughter of Allara,
the sister of Vulhan.”
“Let her tell that to Zural. It is his business to listen, not ours,”
cried one. “Zural will know what to do with Korsars. Did they not steal
his daughter and kill his son?”
“Yes, take them to Zural,” cried another.
“It is to Zural that I am taking them,” replied Vulhan.
The villagers made way for the warriors and their prisoners and as the
latter passed through the aisles thus formed many were the ugly looks
cast upon them and many the expressions of hatred that they overheard,
but no violence was offered them and presently they were conducted to a
large hut near the center of the village.
Like the other dwellings of the village of Lar, the floors of the
chief’s house were raised a foot or eighteen inches above the ground.
The thatched roof of the great, open living room, into which they were
conducted, was supported by enormous ivory tusks of the giant tandors.
The floor, which appeared to be constructed of unglazed tile, was almost
entirely covered by the hides of wild animals. There were a number of
low, wooden stools standing about the room, and one higher one that
might almost have been said to have attained the dignity of a chair.
Upon this larger stool was seated a stern faced man, who scrutinized
them closely and silently as they were halted before him. For several
seconds no one spoke, and then the man upon the chair turned to Vulhan.
“Who are these,” he demanded, “and what do they in the village of Lar?”
“We took them from a Korsar ship that was drifting helplessly with the
ocean current,” said Vulhan, “and we have brought them to Zural, chief
of the village of Lar, that he may hear their story and judge whether
they be the friends they claim to be, or the Korsar enemies that we
believe them to be. This one,” and Vulhan pointed to Stellara, “says
that she is the daughter of Allara.”
“I am the daughter of Allara,” said Stellara.
“And who was your father?” demanded Zural.
“My father’s name is Fedol,” replied Stellara.
“How do you know?” asked Zural.
“My mother told me.”
“Where were you born?” demanded Zural.
“In the Korsar city of Allaban,” replied Stellara.
“Then you are a Korsar,” stated Zural with finality. “And this one, what
has he to say for himself?” asked Zural, indicating Tanar with a nod.
“He claims that he was a prisoner of the Korsars and that he comes from
a distant kingdom called Sari.”
“I have never heard of such a kingdom,” said Zural. “Is there any
warrior here who has ever heard of it?” he demanded. “If there is, let
him in justice to the prisoner, speak.” But the Amiocapians only shook
their heads for there was none who had ever heard of the kingdom of
Sari. “It is quite plain,” continued Zural, “that they are enemies and
that they are seeking by falsehood to gain our confidence. If there is a
drop of Amiocapian blood in one of them, we are sorry for that drop.
Take them away, Vulhan. Keep them under guard until we decide how they
shall be destroyed.”
“My mother told me that the Amiocapians were a just and kindly people,”
said Stellara; “but it is neither just nor kindly to destroy this man
who is not an enemy simply because you have never heard of the country
from which he comes. I tell you that he is no Korsar. I was on one of
the ships of the fleet when the prisoners were brought aboard. I heard
The Cid and Bohar the Bloody when they were questioning this man, and I
know that he is no Korsar and that he comes from a kingdom known as
Sari. They did not doubt his word, so why should you? If you are a just
and kindly people how can you destroy me without giving me an
opportunity to talk with Fedol, my father. He will believe me; he will
know that I am his daughter.”
“The gods frown upon us if we harbor enemies in our village,” replied
Zural. “We should have bad luck, as all Amiocapians know. Wild beasts
would kill our hunters and the tandors would trample our fields and
destroy our villages. But worst of all the Korsars would come and rescue
you from us. As for Fedol, no man knows where he is. He is not of this
village and the people of his own village have slept and eaten many
times since they saw Fedol. They have slept and eaten many times since
Fedol set forth upon his last tandor hunt. Perhaps the tandors have
avenged the killing of many of their fellows, or perhaps Fedol fell into
the clutches of the Buried People. These things we do not know, but we
do know that Fedol went away to hunt tandors and that he never came back
and that we do not know where to find him. Take them away, Vulhan, and
we shall hold a council of the chiefs and then we shall decide what
shall be done with them.”
“You are a cruel and wicked man, Zural,” cried Stellara, “and no better
than the Korsars themselves.”
“It is useless, Stellara,” said Tanar, laying a hand upon the girl’s
arm. “Let us go quietly with Vulhan;” and then in a low whisper, “Do not
anger them, for there is yet hope for us in the council of the chiefs if
we do not antagonize them.” And so without further word Stellara and
Tanar were led from the house of Zural the chief surrounded by a dozen
stalwart warriors.
IV
LETARI
Stellara and Tanar were conducted to a small hut in the outskirts of the
village. The building consisted of but two rooms; the open living room
with the fireplace and a small dark, sleeping apartment. Into the latter
the prisoners were thrust and a single warrior was left on guard in the
living room to prevent their escape.
In a world where the sun hangs perpetually at zenith there is no
darkness and without darkness there is little opportunity to escape from
the clutches of a watchful enemy. Yet never for a moment was the thought
of escape absent from the mind of Tanar the Sarian. He studied the
sentries and as each one was relieved he tried to enter into
conversation with his successor, but all to no avail—the warriors would
not talk to him. Sometimes the guards dozed, but the village and the
clearing about it were always alive with people so that it appeared
unlikely that any opportunity for escape might present itself.
The sentries were changed, food was brought to the prisoners and when
they felt so inclined they slept. Thus only might they measure the lapse
of time, if such a thing occurred to them, which doubtless it did not.
They talked together and sometimes Stellara sang—sang the songs of
Amiocap that her mother had taught her, and they were happy and
contented, although each knew that the specter of death hovered
constantly above them. Presently he would strike, but in the meantime
they were happy.
“When I was a youth,” said Tanar, “I was taken prisoner by the black
people with tails. They build their villages among the high branches of
lofty trees and, at first they put me in a small hut as dark as this and
much dirtier and I was very miserable and very unhappy for I have always
been free and I love my freedom, but now I am again a prisoner in a dark
hut and in addition I know that I am going to die and I do not want to
die, yet I am not unhappy. Why is it, Stellara, do you know?”
“I have wondered about the same thing myself,” replied the girl. “It
seems to me that I have never been so happy before in my life, but I do
not know the reason.”
They were sitting close together upon a fiber mat that they had placed
near the doorway that they might obtain as much light and air as
possible. Stellara’s soft eyes looked thoughtfully out upon the little
world framed by the doorway of their prison cell. One hand rested
listlessly on the mat between them. Tanar’s eyes rested upon her
profile, and slowly his hand went out and covered hers.
“Perhaps,” he said, “I should not be happy if you were not here.”
The girl turned half frightened eyes upon him and withdrew her hand.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“I do not know, only that it makes me afraid.”
The man was about to speak again when a figure darkened the opening in
the doorway. A girl had come bringing food. Heretofore it had been a
man—a taciturn man who had replied to none of Tanar’s questions. But
there was no suggestion of taciturnity upon the beautiful, smiling
countenance of the girl.
“Here is food,” she said. “Are you hungry?”
“Where there is nothing else to do but eat I am always hungry,” said
Tanar. “But where is the man who brought our food before?”
“That was my father,” replied the girl. “He has gone to hunt and I have
brought the food in his stead.”
“I hope that he never returns from the hunt,” said Tanar.
“Why?” demanded the girl. “He is a good father. Why do you wish him
harm?”
“I wish him no harm,” replied Tanar, laughing. “I only wish that his
daughter would continue to bring our food. She is far more agreeable and
much better looking.”
The girl flushed, but it was evident that she was pleased.
“I wanted to come before,” she said, “but my father would not let me. I
saw you when they brought you into the village and I have wanted to see
you again. I never before saw a man who looked like you. You are
different from the Amiocapians. Are all the men of Sari as good looking
as you?”
Tanar laughed. “I am afraid I have never given much thought to that
subject,” he replied. “In Sari we judge our men by what they do and not
by what they look like.”
“But you must be a great hunter,” said the girl. “You look like a great
hunter.”
“How do great hunters look?” demanded Stellara with some asperity.
“They look like this man,” replied the girl. “Do you know,” she
continued, “I have dreamed about you many times.”
“What is your name?” asked Tanar.
“Letari,” replied the girl.
“Letari,” repeated Tanar. “That is a pretty name. I hope, Letari, that
you will bring our food to us often.”
“I shall never bring it again,” she said, sadly.
“And why?” demanded Tanar.
“Because no one will bring it again,” she said.
“And why is that? Are they going to starve us to death?”
“No, the council of the chiefs has decided that you are both Korsars and
that you must be destroyed.”
“And when will that be?” asked Stellara.
“As soon as the hunters return with food. We are going to have a great
feast and dance, but I shall not enjoy it. I shall be very unhappy for I
do not wish to see Tanar die.”
“How are they going to destroy us?” asked the man.
“Look,” said the girl, pointing through the open doorway. There, in the
distance, the two prisoners saw men setting two stakes into the ground.
“There were many who wanted to give you to the Buried People,” said
Letari, “but Zural said that it has been so long since we have had a
feast and a dance that he thought that we should celebrate the killing
of two Korsars rather than let the Buried People have all the pleasure,
and so they are going to tie you to those two stakes and pile dry wood
and brush around you and burn you to death.”
Stellara shuddered. “And my mother taught me that you were a kindly
people,” she said.
“Oh we do not mean to be unkind,” said Letari, “but the Korsars have
been very cruel to us and Zural believes that the gods will take word to
the Korsars that you were burned to death and that perhaps it will
frighten them and keep them away from Amiocap.”