the situation almost overwhelmed him. He looked down at Stellara’s
golden head and shuddered. “You cannot mean,” he said, “that the men of
Amiocap intend to burn this girl alive?”
“Why, yes,” said Letari. “It would do no good to kill her first for then
her spirit could not tell the gods that she was burned and they could
not tell the Korsars.”
“It is hideous,” cried Tanar; “and you, a girl yourself, have you no
sympathy; have you no heart?”
“I am very sorry that they are going to burn you,” said Letari, “but as
for her, she is a Korsar and I feel nothing but hatred and loathing for
her, but you are different. I know that you are not a Korsar and I wish
that I could save you.”
“Will you—would you, if you could?” demanded Tanar.
“Yes, but I cannot.”
The conversation relative to escape had been carried on in low whispers,
so that the guard would not overhear, but evidently it had aroused his
suspicion for now he arose and came to the doorway of the hut. “What are
you talking about?” he demanded. “Why do you stay in here so long,
Letari, talking with these Korsars? I heard what you said and I believe
that you are in love with this man.”
“What if I am?” demanded the girl. “Do not our gods demand that we love?
What else do we live for upon Amiocap but love?”
“The gods do not say that we should love our enemies.”
“They do not say that we should not,” retorted Letari. “If I choose to
love Tanar it is my own affair.”
“Clear out!” snapped the warrior. “There are plenty of men in Lar for
you to love.”
“Ah!” sighed the girl as she passed through the doorway, “but there is
none like Tanar.”
“The hateful little wanton,” cried Stellara after the girl left.
“She does not hesitate to reveal what is in her heart,” said Tanar. “The
girls of Sari are not like that. They would die rather than reveal their
love before the man had declared his. But perhaps she is only a child
and did not realize what she said.”
“A child nothing,” snapped Stellara. “She knew perfectly well what she
was saying and it is quite apparent that you liked it. Very well, when
she comes to save you, go with her.”
“You do not think that I intended to go with her alone even though an
opportunity for escape presented itself through her, do you?” demanded
Tanar.
“She told you that she would not help me to escape,” Stellara reminded
him.
“I know that, but it would be only in the hope of helping you to escape
that I would take advantage of her help.”
“I would rather be burned alive a dozen times than to escape with her
help.”
There was a venom in the girl’s voice that had never been there before
and Tanar looked at her in surprise. “I do not understand you,
Stellara,” he said.
“I do not understand myself,” said the girl, and burying her face in her
hands she burst into tears.
Tanar knelt quickly beside her and put an arm about her. “Don’t,” he
begged, “please don’t.”
She pushed him from her. “Go away,” she cried. “Don’t touch me. I hate
you.”
Tanar was about to speak again when he was interrupted by a great
commotion at the far end of the village. There were shouts and yells
from men, mingled with a thunderous noise that fairly shook the ground,
and then the deep booming of drums.
Instantly the men setting the stakes in the ground, where Tanar and
Stellara were to be burned, stopped their work, seized their weapons and
rushed in the direction from which the noise was coming.
The prisoners saw men, women and children running from their huts and
all directed their steps toward the same point. The guard before their
door leaped to his feet and stood for a moment looking at the running
villagers. Then, without a word or backward glance, he dashed off after
them.
Tanar, realizing that for the moment at least they were unguarded,
stepped from the dark cell out into the open living apartment and looked
in the direction toward which the villagers were running. There he saw
the cause of the disturbance and also an explanation of the purpose for
which the strange hanging barrier had been erected.
Just beyond the barrier loomed two gigantic mammoths—huge tandors,
towering sixteen feet or more in height—their wicked eyes red with hate
and rage; their great tusks gleaming in the sunlight; their long,
powerful trunks seeking to drag down the barrier from the sharpened
stakes of which their flesh recoiled. Facing the mammoths was a shouting
horde of warriors, screaming women and children, and above all rose the
thundering din of the drums.
Each time the tandors sought to force their way through the barrier, or
brush aside its posts, these swung about so that the sharpened stakes
threatened their eyes or pricked the tender flesh of their trunks, while
bravely facing them the shouting warriors hurled their stone-tipped
spears.
But however interesting or inspiring the sight might be, Tanar had no
time to spare to follow the course of this strange encounter. Turning to
Stellara, he seized her hand. “Come,” he cried. “Now is our chance!” And
while the villagers were engrossed with the tandors at the far end of
the village, Tanar and Stellara ran swiftly across the clearing and
entered the lush vegetation of the forest beyond.
There was no trail and it was with difficulty that they forced their way
through the underbrush for a short distance before Tanar finally halted.
“We shall never escape them in this way,” he said. “Our spoor is as
plain as the spoor of a dyryth after a rain.”
“How else then may we escape?” asked Stellara.
Tanar was looking upward into the trees examining them closely. “When I
was a prisoner among the black people with long tails,” he said, “I had
to learn to travel through the trees and this knowledge and the ability
have stood me in good stead many times since and I believe that they may
prove our salvation now.”
“You go then,” said Stellara, “and save yourself, for certainly I cannot
travel through the trees, and there is no reason why we should both be
recaptured when one of us can escape.”
Tanar smiled. “You know that I would not do that,” he said.
“But what else may you do?” demanded Stellara. “They will follow the
trail we are making and recapture us before we are out of hearing of the
village.”
“We shall leave no trail,” said Tanar. “Come,” and leaping lightly to a
lower branch he swung himself into the tree that spread above them.
“Give me your hand,” he said, reaching down to Stellara, and a moment
later he had drawn the girl to his side. Then he stood erect and
steadied the girl while she arose to her feet. Before them a maze of
branches stretched away to be lost in the foliage.
“We shall leave no spoor here,” said Tanar.
“I am afraid,” said Stellara. “Hold me tightly.”
“You will soon become accustomed to it,” said Tanar, “and then you will
not be afraid. At first I was afraid, but later I could swing through
the trees almost as rapidly as the black men themselves.”
“I cannot even take a single step,” said Stellara. “I know that I shall
fall.”
“You do not have to take a step,” said Tanar. “Put your arms around my
neck and hold on tightly,” and then he stooped and lifted her with his
left arm while she clung tightly to him, her soft white arms encircling
his neck.
“How easily you lifted me!” she said; “how strong you are; but no man
living could carry my weight through these trees and not fall.”
Tanar did not reply, but instead he moved off among the branches seeking
sure footing and secure handholds as he went. The girl’s soft body was
pressed close to his and in his nostrils was the delicate sachet that he
had sensed in his first contact with Stellara aboard the Korsar ship and
which now seemed a part of her.
As Tanar swung through the forest, the girl marveled at the strength of
the man. She had always considered him a weakling by comparison with the
beefy Korsars, but now she realized that in those smoothly rolling
muscles was concealed the power of a superman.
She found a fascination in watching him. He moved so easily and he did
not seem to tire. Once she let her lips fall until they touched his
thick, black hair and then, just a little, almost imperceptibly, she
tightened her arms about his neck.
Stellara was very happy and then, of a sudden, she recalled Letari and
she straightened up and relaxed her hold. “The vile wanton,” she said.
“Who?” demanded Tanar. “What are you talking about?”
“That creature, Letari,” said Stellara.
“Why she is not vile,” said Tanar. “I thought she was very nice and she
is certainly beautiful.”
“I believe you are in love with her,” snapped Stellara.
“That would not be difficult,” said Tanar. “She seemed very lovable.”
“Do you love her?” demanded Stellara.
“Why shouldn’t I?” asked Tanar.
“Do you?” insisted the girl.
“Would you care if I did?” asked Tanar, softly.
“Most certainly not,” said Stellara.
“Then why do you ask?”
“I didn’t ask,” said Stellara. “I do not care.”
“Oh,” said Tanar. “I misunderstood,” and he moved on in silence, for the
men of Sari are not talkative, and Stellara did not know what was in his
mind for his face did not reflect the fact that he was laughing
inwardly, and, anyway, Stellara could not see his face.
Tanar moved always in one direction and his homing instinct assured him
that the direction lay toward Sari. As far as the land went he could
move unerringly toward the spot in Pellucidar where he was born. Every
Pellucidarian can do that, but put them on the water, out of sight of
land, and that instinct leaves them and they have no more conception of
direction than would you or I if we were transported suddenly to a land
where there are no points of compass since the sun hangs perpetually at
zenith and there is no moon and no stars. Tanar’s only wish at present
was to put them as far as possible from the village of Lar. He would
travel until they reached the coast for, knowing that Amiocap was an
island, he knew that eventually they must come to the ocean. What they
should do then was rather vague in his mind. He had visions of building
a boat and embarking upon the sea, although he knew perfectly well that
this would be madness on the part of a hill dweller such as he.
Presently he felt hungry and he knew that they must have traveled a
considerable distance.
Sometimes Tanar kept track of distance by computing the number of steps
that he took, for by much practice he had learned to count them almost
mechanically, leaving his mind free for other perceptions and thoughts,
but here among the branches of the trees, where his steps were not of
uniform length, he had thought it not worth the effort to count them and
so he could only tell by the recurrence of hunger that they must have
covered considerable distance since they left the village of Lar.
During their flight through the forest they had seen birds and monkeys
and other animals and, on several occasions, they had paralleled or
crossed game trails, but as the Amiocapians had stripped him of his
weapons he had no means of obtaining meat until he could stop long
enough to fashion a bow and some arrows and a spear.
How he missed his spear! From childhood it had been his constant
companion and for a long time he had felt almost helpless without it. He
had never become entirely accustomed or reconciled to carrying firearms,
feeling in the bottom of his primitive and savage heart that there was
nothing more dependable than a sturdy, stone shod spear.
He had rather liked the bow and arrows that Innes and Perry had taught
him to make and use, as the arrows had seemed like little spears. At
least one could see them, whereas with the strange and noisy weapons,
which belched forth smoke and flame, one could not see the projectile at
all. It was most unnatural and uncanny.
But Tanar’s mind was not occupied with such thoughts at this time. Food
was dominant.
Presently they came to a small, natural clearing beside a crystal brook
and Tanar swung lightly to the ground.
“We shall stop here,” he said, “until I can make weapons and get meat
for us.”
With the feel of the ground beneath her feet again Stellara felt more
independent. “I am not hungry,” she said.
“I am,” said Tanar.
“There are berries and fruits and nuts in plenty,” she insisted. “We
should not wait here to be overtaken by the warriors from Lar.”
“We shall wait here until I have made weapons,” said Tanar, with
finality, “and then I shall not only be in a position to make a kill for
meat, but I shall be able better to defend you against Zural’s
warriors.”
“I wish to go on,” said Stellara. “I do not wish to stay here,” and she
stamped her little foot.
Tanar looked at her in surprise. “What is the matter with you, Stellara?
You were never like this before.”
“I do not know what is the matter with me,” said the girl. “I only know
that I wish I were back in Korsar, in the house of The Cid. There, at
least, I should be among friends. Here I am surrounded only by enemies.”
“Then you would have Bohar the Bloody One as a mate, if he survived the
storm, or if not he another like him,” Tanar reminded her.
“At least he loved me,” said Stellara.
“And you loved him?” asked Tanar.
“Perhaps,” said Stellara.
There was a peculiar look on Tanar’s face as his eyes rested upon the
girl. He did not understand her, but he seemed to be trying to. She was
looking past him, a strange expression upon her face when suddenly she
voiced an exclamation of dismay and pointed past him.
“Look!” she cried. “Oh, God, look!”
V
THE TANDOR HUNTER
So filled with fear was Stellara’s tone that Tanar felt the hair rise
upon his scalp as he wheeled about to face the thing that had so filled
the girl with horror, but even had he had time to conjure in his
imagination a picture worthy of her fright, he could not have imagined a
more fearsome or repulsive thing than that which was advancing upon
them.
In conformation it was primarily human, but there the similarity ended.
It had arms and legs and it walked erect upon two feet; but such feet!
They were huge, flat things with nailless toes—short, stubby toes with
webs between them. Its arms were short and in lieu of fingers its hands
were armed with three heavy claws. It stood somewhere in the
neighborhood of five feet in height and there was not a vestige of hair
upon its entire naked body, the skin of which was of the sickly pallor
of a corpse.
But these attributes lent to it but a fraction of its repulsiveness—it
was its head and face that were appalling. It had no external ears,
there being only two small orifices on either side of its head where
these organs are ordinarily located. Its mouth was large with loose,
flabby lips that were drawn back now into a snarl that exposed two rows
of heavy fangs. Two small openings above the center of the mouth marked
the spot where a nose should have been and, to add further to the
hideousness of its appearance, it was eyeless, unless bulging
protuberances forcing out the skin where the eyes should have been might
be called eyes. Here the skin upon the face moved as though great, round
eyes were rolling beneath. The hideousness of that blank face without
eyelids, lashes or eyebrows shocked even the calm and steady nerves of
Tanar.
The creature carried no weapons, but what need had it for weapons, armed
as it was with those formidable claws and fangs? Beneath its pallid skin
surged great muscles that attested its giant strength and upon its
otherwise blank face the mouth alone was sufficient to suggest its
diabolical ferocity.
“Run, Tanar!” cried Stellara. “Take to the trees! It is one of the
Buried People.” But the thing was too close to him to admit of escape
even if Tanar had been minded to desert Stellara, and so he stood there
quietly awaiting the encounter and then suddenly, as though to add to
the uncanny horror of the situation, the thing spoke. From its flabby,
drooling lips issued sounds—mumbled, ghastly sounds that yet took on the
semblance of speech until it became intelligible in a distorted way to
Tanar and Stellara.
“It is the woman I want,” mumbled the creature. “Give me the woman, and
the man may go.” To Tanar’s shocked sensibilities it was as though a
mutilated corpse had risen from the grave and spoken, and he fell back a
step with a sensation as nearly akin to horror as he had ever
experienced.
“You cannot have the woman,” said Tanar. “Leave us alone, or I will kill
you.”
An uncanny scream that was a mixture of laugh and shriek broke from the
lips of the thing. “Then die!” it cried, as it launched itself upon the
Sarian.
As it closed it struck upward with its heavy claws in an attempt to
disembowel its antagonist, but Tanar eluded its first rush by leaping
lightly to one side and then, turning quickly, he hurled himself upon
the loathsome body and circling its neck with one powerful arm Tanar
turned suddenly and, bending his body forward and downward, hurled the
creature over his head and heavily to the ground.
But instantly it was up again and at him. Screaming with rage and
frothing at the mouth it stuck wildly with its heavy claws, but Tanar
had learned certain things from David Innes that men of the stone age
ordinarily do not know, for David had taught him, as he had taught many
another young Pellucidarian, the art of self-defense, including boxing,
wrestling and jiu-jitsu, and now again they came into good stead as they
had upon other occasions since he had mastered them and once more he
gave thanks for the fortunate circumstance that had brought David Innes
from the outer crust to Pellucidar to direct the destinies of its human
race as first emperor.
Combined with his knowledge, training and agility was Tanar’s great
strength, without which these other accomplishments would have been of
far lesser value, and so as the creature struck, Tanar parried the
blows, fending the wicked talons from his flesh and with a strength that
surprised his antagonist since it was fully as great as his own.
But what was still more surprising to the monster was the frequency with
which Tanar was able to step in and deliver telling blows to the body
and head that, in its awkwardness and lack of skill, it was unable to
properly protect.
To one side, watching the battle for which she was the stake, stood
Stellara. She might have run away and hidden; she might have made good
her escape, but no such thoughts entered her courageous little head. It
would have been as impossible for her to desert her champion in the hour
of his need as it would have been for him to leave her to her fate and
so she stood there, helpless, awaiting the outcome.
To and fro across the clearing the battlers moved, trampling down the
lush vegetation that sometimes grew so thickly as to hamper their
movements, and now it became apparent to both Stellara and Tanar from
the labored breathing of the creature that it was being steadily worn
down and that it lacked the endurance of the Sarian. However, probably
sensing something of this itself, it now redoubled its efforts and the
ferocity of its attack, and, at the same time, Tanar discovered a
vulnerable spot at which to aim his blows.
Striking for the face he had accidentally touched one of the bulging
protuberances that lay beneath the skin where the eyes should have been.
At the impact of the blow, light as it was, the creature screamed and
leaped backward, instinctively raising one of its claws to the injured
organ and thereafter Tanar directed all his efforts toward placing
further and heavier blows upon those two bulging spots.
He struck again and landed cleanly a heavy blow upon one of them. With a
shriek of pain the creature stepped back and clamped both paws to its
hurt.
They were fighting very close to where Stellara stood. The creature’s
back was toward her and she could have reached out and touched him, so
near was he to her. She saw Tanar spring forward to strike again. The
creature dropped back quite abreast of her and then suddenly lowering
its head it gave vent to a horrid shriek and charged the Sarian with all
the hideous ferocity that it could gather.
It seemed as though it had mustered all its remaining vitality and
thrown it into this last, mad charge. Tanar, his mind and muscles
coördinating perfectly, quick to see openings and take advantage of them
and equally quick to realize the advantages of retreat, leaped backward
to avoid the mad charge and the flailing claws, but as he did so one of
his heels struck a low bush and he fell heavily to the ground upon his
back.
For the moment he was helpless and in that brief moment the creature
could be upon him with those horrid fangs and ripping claws.
Tanar knew it. The thing charging him knew it and Stellara, standing so
close to them, knew it, and so quickly did she act that Tanar had
scarcely struck the ground as she launched herself bodily upon the
charging monster from behind.
As a football player hurls himself forward to tackle an opponent so
Stellara hurled herself at the creature. Her arms encircled its knees
and then slipped down, as he kicked and struggled to free himself, until
finally she secured a hold upon one of his skinny ankles just above its
huge foot. There she clung and the creature lunged forward just short of
Tanar, but instantly, with a howl of rage, it turned to rend the girl.
But that brief instant of delay had been sufficient to permit Tanar to
regain his feet and ere ever the talons or fangs could sink into the
soft flesh of Stellara, Tanar was upon the creature’s back. Fingers of
steel encircled its throat and though it struggled and struck out with
its heavy claws it was at last helpless in the clutches of the Sarian.
Slowly, relentlessly, Tanar choked the life from the monster and then,
with an expression of disgust, he cast the corpse aside and stepped
quickly to where Stellara was staggering weakly to her feet.
He put his arm about her and for a moment she buried her face in his
shoulder and sobbed. “Do not be afraid,” he said; “the thing is dead.”
She raised her face toward his. “Let us go away from here,” she said. “I
am afraid. There may be more of the Buried People about. There must be
an entrance to their underworld near here, for they do not wander far
from such openings.”
“Yes,” he said, “until I have weapons I wish to see no more of them.”
“They are horrible creatures,” said Stellara, “and if there had been two
of them we should both have been lost.”
“What are they?” asked Tanar. “You seem to know about them. Where had
you ever seen one before?”
“I have never seen one until just now,” said she, “but my mother told me
about them. They are feared and hated by all Amiocapians. They are
Coripies and they inhabit dark caverns and tunnels beneath the surface
of the ground. That is why we call them the Buried People. They live on
flesh and wandering about the jungle they gather up the remains of our
kills and devour the bodies of wild beasts that have died in the forest,
but being afraid of our spears they do not venture far from the openings
that lead down into their dark world. Occasionally they waylay a lone
hunter and less often they come to one of our villages and seize a woman
or child. No one has ever entered their world and escaped to tell about
it, so that what my mother has told me about them is only what our
people have imagined as to the underworld where the Buried People dwell
for there has never been any Amiocapian warrior brave enough to venture
into the dark recesses of one of their tunnels, or if there has been
such he has not returned to tell of it.”
“And if the kindly Amiocapians had not decided to burn us to death, they
might have given us to the Buried People?” asked Tanar.
“Yes, they would have taken us and bound us to trees close to one of the
entrances to the underworld, but do not blame my mother’s people for
that as they would have been doing only that which they considered right
and proper.”
“Perhaps they are a kindly people,” said Tanar, with a grin, “for it was
certainly far more kindly to accord us death by burning at the stake
than to have left us to the horrid attentions of the Coripies. But come,
we will take to the trees again, for this spot does not look as
beautiful to me now as it did when we first looked upon it.”