the trees have ears, and if the Korsars come to your village and
question you tell them that you saw three men and two women traveling
toward the east just beyond the borders of the city of Korsar. Tell them
that they were too far away for you to recognize them, but that they may
have been The Cid’s daughter and her companion with the three men who
abducted them.”
“We will do as you say,” replied the carriers.
“Then be gone,” demanded David, and the eight men hurriedly gathered up
their hampers and disappeared into the forest toward the north.
When the two girls were sufficiently revived and rested to continue the
journey, the party set out again, making their way to the east for a
short distance and then turning north again, for it had been Tanar’s
plan to throw the Korsars off the trail by traveling north, rather than
east or south. Later they would turn to the east, far north of the area
which the Korsars might be expected to comb in search of them, and then
again, after many marches, they would change their direction once more
to the south. It was a circuitous route, but it seemed the safest.
The forest changed to pine and cedar and there were windswept wastes
dotted with gnarled and stunted trees. The air was cooler than they had
ever known it in their native land, and when the wind blew from the
north they shivered around roaring camp fires. The animals they met were
scarcer and bore heavier fur, and, nowhere was there sign of man.
Upon one occasion when they stopped to camp Tartar pointed at the ground
before him. “Look!” he cried to David. “My shadow is no longer beneath
me,” and then, looking up, “the sun is not above us.”
“I have noticed that,” replied David, “and I am trying to understand the
reason for it, and perhaps I shall with the aid of the legends of the
Korsars.”
As they proceeded their shadows grew longer and longer and the light and
heat of the sun diminished until they traveled in a semi-twilight that
was always cold.
Long since they had been forced to fashion warmer garments from the
pelts of the beasts they had killed. Tanar and Ja wanted to turn back
toward the southeast, for their strange homing instinct drew them in
that direction toward their own country, but David asked them to
accompany him yet a little further for his mind had evolved a strange
and wonderful theory and he wished to press on yet a little further to
obtain still stronger proof of its correctness.
When they slept they rested beside roaring fires and once, when they
awoke, they were covered by a light mantle of a cold, white substance
that frightened the Pellucidarians, but that David knew was snow. And
the air was full of whirling particles and the wind bit those portions
of their faces that were exposed, for now they wore fur caps and hoods
and their hands were covered with warm mittens.
“We cannot go much further in this direction,” said Ja, “or we shall all
perish.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said David. “You four turn back to the
southeast and I will go yet a little further to the north and overtake
you when I have satisfied myself that a thing that I believe is true.”
“No,” cried Tanar, “we shall remain together. Where you go we shall go.”
“Yes,” said Ja, “we shall not abandon you.”
“Just a little further north, then,” said David, “and I shall be ready
to turn back with you,” and so they forged ahead over snow covered
ground into the deepening gloom that filled the souls of the
Pellucidarians with terror. But after a while the wind changed and blew
from the south and the snow melted and the air became balmy again, and
still further on the twilight slowly lifted and the light increased,
though the midday sun of Pellucidar was now scarcely visible behind
them.
“I cannot understand it,” said Ja. “Why should it become lighter again,
although the sun is ever further away behind us?”
“I do not know,” said Tanar. “Ask David.”
“I can only guess,” said David, “and my guess seems so preposterous that
I dare not voice it.”
“Look!” cried Stellara, pointing ahead. “It is the sea.”
“Yes,” said Gura, “a gray sea; it does not look like water.”
“And what is that?” cried Tanar. “There is a great fire upon the sea.”
“And the sea does not curve upward in the distance,” cried Stellara.
“Everything is wrong in this country and I am afraid.”
David had stopped in his tracks and was staring at the deep red glow
ahead. The others gathered around him and watched it, too. “What is it?”
demanded Ja.
“As there is a God in heaven it can be but one thing,” replied David;
“and yet I know that it cannot be that thing. The very idea is
ridiculous. It is impossible and outlandish.”
“But what might it be?” demanded Stellara.
“The sun,” replied David.
“But the sun is almost out of sight behind us,” Gura reminded him.
“I do not mean the sun of Pellucidar,” replied David; “but the sun of
the outer world, the world from which I came.”
The others stood in silent awe, watching the edge of a blood red disc
that seemed to be floating upon a gray ocean across whose reddened
surface a brilliant pathway of red and gold led from the shoreline to
the blazing orb, where the sea and sky seemed to meet.
XV
MADNESS
“Now,” said Stellara, “we can go no further;” nor indeed could they for
east and west and north stretched a great, sullen sea and along the
shore-line at their feet great ice cakes rose and fell with sullen roars
and loud reports as the sea ground the churning mass.
For a long time David Innes, Emperor of Pellucidar, stood staring out
across that vast and desolate waste of water. “What lies beyond?” he
murmured to himself, and then, shaking his head, he turned away. “Come,”
he said, “let us strike back for Sari.”
His companions received his words with shouts of joy. Smiles replaced
the half troubled expressions that had marked their drawn faces since
the moment that they had discovered that their beloved noonday sun was
being left behind them.
With light steps, with laughter and joking, they faced the long, arduous
journey that lay ahead of them.
During the second march, after they had turned back from the northern
sea, Gura discovered a strange object to the left of their line of
march.
“It looks as though it might be some queer sort of native hut,” she
said.
“We shall have to investigate it,” said David, and the five made their
way to the side of the strange object.
It was a large, heavy, wicker basket that lay inverted upon the barren
ground. All about it were the rotted remnants of cordage.
At David’s suggestion the men turned the basket over upon its side.
Beneath it they found well preserved remnants of oiled silk and a
network of fine cord.
“What is it?” asked Stellara.
“It is the basket and all that remains of the gas bag of a balloon,”
said David.
“What is a balloon,” asked the girl, “and how did it get here?”
“I can explain what a balloon is,” said David; “but if I were positive
that I was correct in my conjecture as to how it came here, I would hold
the answer to a thousand questions that have puzzled the men of the
outer crust for ages.” For a long time he stood silently contemplating
the weather-worn basket. His mind submerged in thought was oblivious to
all else. “If I only knew,” he mused. “If I only knew, and yet how else
could it have come here? What else could that red disc upon the horizon
of the sea have been other than the midnight sun of the arctic regions.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” demanded Gura.
“The poor devils,” mused David, apparently oblivious of the girl’s
presence. “They made a greater discovery than they could have hoped for
in their wildest dreams. I wonder if they lived to realize it.” Slowly
he removed his fur cap and stood facing the basket with bowed head, and
for some unaccountable reason, which they could not explain, his
companions bared their heads and followed his example. And after they
had resumed their journey it was a long time before David Innes could
shake off the effects of that desolate reminder of one of the world’s
most pathetic tragedies.
So anxious were the members of the party to reach the cheering warmth of
the beloved Pellucidar that they knew, that they pressed on toward the
south with the briefest of rests; nor were they wholly content until
once more their shadows lay directly beneath them.
Sari, lying slightly east of south, their return from the north took
them over a different route from that which they had followed up from
Korsar. Of course the Pellucidarians did not know these points of
compass as north or south, and even David Innes carried them in his mind
more in accordance with the Pellucidarian scheme than that with which he
had been familiar upon the outer crust.
Naturally, with the sun always at zenith and with no stars and no moon
and no planets, the Pellucidarians have been compelled to evolve a
different system of indicating direction than that with which we are
familiar. By instinct they know the direction in which their own country
lies and each Pellucidarian reckons all directions from this base line,
and he indicates other directions in a simple and ingenious manner.
Suppose you were from Sari and were traveling from the ice girt sea
above Korsar to any point upon Pellucidar, you would set and maintain
your course in this manner. Extend the fingers of your right hand and
hold it in a horizontal position, palm down, directly in front of your
body, your little finger pointing in the direction of Sari—a direction
which you know by instinct—and your thumb pointing to the left directly
at right angles to the line in which your little finger is pointing. Now
spread your left hand in the same way and lower it on top of your right
hand, so that the little finger of your left hand exactly covers the
little finger of your right hand.
You will now see the fingers and thumbs of your two hands cover an arc
of one hundred and eighty degrees.
Sari lies southeast of Korsar, while The Land of Awful Shadow lies due
south. Therefore a Sarian pointing in the direction toward The Land of
Awful Shadow would say that he was traveling two left fingers from Sari,
since the middle finger of the left hand would be pointing about due
south toward The Land of Awful Shadow. If he were going in the opposite
direction, or north, he would merely add the word “back,” saying that he
was traveling two left fingers back from Sari, so that by this plan
every point of compass is roughly covered, and with sufficient accuracy
for all the requirements of the primitive Pellucidarians. The fact that
when one is traveling to the right of his established base line and
indicates it by mentioning the fingers of his left hand might, at first,
be deemed confusing, but, of course, having followed this system for
ages, it is perfectly intelligible to the Pellucidarians.
When they reached a point at which the city of Korsar lay three right
fingers back from Sari, they were, in reality, due east of the Korsar
city. They were now in fertile, semi-tropical land teeming with animal
life. The men were armed with pistols as well as spears, bows and arrows
and knives; while Stellara and Gura carried light spears and knives, and
seldom was there a march that did not witness an encounter with one or
more of the savage beasts of the primeval forests, verdure clad hills or
rolling plains across which their journey led them.
They long since had abandoned any apprehension of pursuit or capture by
the Korsars and while they had skirted the distant hinterland claimed by
Korsar and had encountered some of the natives upon one or two
occasions, they had seen no member of the ruling class with the result
that for the first time since they had fallen into the clutches of the
enemy they felt a sense of unquestioned freedom. And though the other
dangers that beset their way might appear appalling to one of the outer
world, they had no such effect upon any one of the five, whose
experiences of life had tended to make them wholly self-reliant, and,
while constantly alert and watchful, unoppressed by the possibility of
future calamity. When danger suddenly confronted them, they were ready
to meet it. After it had passed they did not depress their spirits by
anticipating the next encounter.
Ja and David were anxious to return to their mates, but Tanar and
Stellara were supremely happy because they were together, and Gura was
content merely to be near Tanar. Sometimes she recalled Balal, her
brother, for he had been kind to her, but Scurv and Sloo and Dhung she
tried to forget.
Thus they were proceeding, a happy and contented party, when, with the
suddenness and unexpectedness of lightning out of a clear sky, disaster
overwhelmed them.
They had been passing through a range of low, rocky hills and were
descending a narrow gorge on the Sari side of the range when, turning
the shoulder of a hill, they came face to face with a large party of
Korsars, fully a hundred strong. The leaders saw and recognized them
instantly and a shout of savage triumph that broke from their lips was
taken up by all their fellows.
David, who was in the lead, saw that resistance would be futile and in
the instant his plan was formed. “We must separate,” he said. “Tanar,
you and Stellara go together. Ja, take Gura with you, and I shall go in
a different direction, for we must not all be captured. One, at least,
must escape to return to Sari. If it is not I, then let the one who wins
through take this message to Ghak and Perry. Tell Perry that I am
positive that I have discovered that there is a polar opening in the
outer crust leading into Pellucidar and that if he ever gets in radio
communication with the outer world, he must inform them of this fact.
Tell Ghak to rush his forces by sea on Korsar, as well as by land. And
now, good-bye, and each for himself.”
Turning in their tracks the five fled up the gorge and being far more
active and agile than the Korsars, they outdistanced them, and though
the rattle of musketry followed them and bits of iron and stone fell
about them, or whizzed past them, no one was struck.
Tanar and Stellara found and followed a steep ravine that led upward to
the right, and almost at the same time Ja and Gura diverged to the left
up the course of a dry waterway, while David continued on back up the
main gorge.
Almost at the summit and within the reach of safety, Tanar and Stellara
found their way blocked by a sheer cliff, which, while not more than
fifteen feet in height, was absolutely unscalable; nor could they find
footing upon the steep ravine sides to the right or left, and as they
stood there in this cul-de-sac, their backs to the wall, a party of
twenty or thirty Korsars, toiling laboriously up the ravine, cut off
their retreat; nor was there any place in which they might hide, but
instead were compelled to stand there in full view of the first of the
enemy that came within sight of them, and thus with freedom already
within their grasp they fell again into the hands of the Korsars. And
Tanar had been compelled to surrender without resistance because he did
not dare risk Stellara’s life by drawing the fire of the enemy.
Many of the Korsars were for dispatching Tanar immediately, but the
officer in command forbade them for it was The Cid’s orders that any of
the prisoners that might be recaptured were to be returned alive. “And
furthermore,” he added, “Bulf is particularly anxious to get this Sarian
back alive.”
During the long march back to Korsar, Tanar and Stellara learned that
this was one of several parties that The Cid had dispatched in search of
them with orders never to return until they had rescued his daughter and
captured her abductors. They also had impressed upon them the fact that
the only reason for The Cid’s insistence that the prisoners be returned
alive was because he and Bulf desired to mete out to them a death
commensurate with their crime.
During the long march back to Korsar, Tanar and Stellara were kept apart
as a rule, though on several occasions they were able to exchange a few
words.
“My poor Sarian,” said Stellara upon one of these. “I wish to God that
you had never met me for only sorrow and pain and death can come of it.”
“I do not care,” replied Tanar, “if I die tomorrow, or if they torture
me forever, for no price is too high to pay for the happiness that I
have had with you, Stellara.”
“Ah, but they will torture you—that is what wrings my heart,” cried the
girl. “Take your life yourself, Tanar. Do not let them get you. I know
them and I know their methods and I would rather kill you with my own
hands than see you fall into their clutches. The Cid is a beast, and
Bulf is worse than Bohar the Bloody. I shall never be his mate; of that
you may be sure, and if you die by your own hand I shall follow you
shortly. And if there is a life after this, as the ancestors of the
Korsars taught them, then we shall meet again where all is peace and
beauty and love.”
The Sarian shook his head. “I know what is here in this life,” he said,
“and I do not know what is there in the other. I shall cling to this,
and you must cling to it until some other hand than ours takes it from
us.”
“But they will torture you so horribly,” she moaned.
“No torture can kill the happiness of our love, Stellara,” said the man,
and then guards separated them and they plodded on across the weary,
interminable miles. How different the country looked through eyes of
despair and sorrow from the sunlit paradise that they had seen when they
journeyed through it, hand in hand with freedom and love.
But at last the long, cruel journey was over, a fitting prelude to its
cruel ending, for at the palace gate Stellara and Tanar were separated.
She was escorted to her quarters by female attendants whom she
recognized as being virtually her guards and keepers, while Tanar was
conducted directly into the presence of The Cid.
As he entered the room he saw the glowering face of the Korsar
Chieftain, and standing below the dais, just in front of him, was Bulf,
whom he had seen but once before, but whose face no man could ever
forget. But there was another there whose presence brought a look of
greater horror to Tanar’s face than did the brutal countenances of The
Cid or Bulf, for standing directly before the dais, toward which he was
being led, the Sarian saw David I, Emperor of Pellucidar. Of all the
calamities that could have befallen, this was the worst.
As the Sarian was led to David’s side he tried to speak to him, but was
roughly silenced by the Korsar guards; nor were they ever again to be
allowed to communicate with one another.
The Cid eyed them savagely, as did Bulf. “For you, who betrayed my
confidence and abducted my daughter, there is no punishment that can fit
your crime; there is no death so terrible that its dying will expiate
your sin. It is not within me to conceive of any form of torture the
infliction of which upon you would give me adequate pleasure. I shall
have to look for suggestions outside of my own mind,” and his eyes ran
questioningly among his officers surrounding him.
“Let me have that one,” roared Bulf, pointing at Tanar, “and I can
promise you that you will witness such tortures as the eyes of man never
before beheld; nor the body of man ever before endured.”
“Will it result in death?” asked a tall Korsar with cadaverous face.
“Of course,” said Bulf, “but not too soon.”
“Death is a welcome and longed for deliverance from torture,” continued
the other. “Would you give either one of these the satisfaction and
pleasure of enjoying even death?”
“But what else is there?” demanded The Cid.
“There is a living death that is worse than death,” said the cadaverous
one.
“And if you can name a torture worse than that which I had in mind,”
exclaimed Bulf, “I shall gladly relinquish all my claims upon this
Sarian.”
“Explain,” commanded The Cid.
“It is this,” said the cadaverous one. “These men are accustomed to
sunlight, to freedom, to cleanliness, to fresh air, to companionship.
There are beneath this palace dark, damp dungeons into which no ray of
light ever filters, whose thick walls are impervious to sound. The
denizens of these horrid places, as you know, would have an effect
opposite to that of human companionship and the only danger, the only
weak spot in my plan, lies in the fact that their constant presence
might deprive these criminals of their reason and thus defeat the very
purpose to which I conceive their presence necessary. A lifetime of
hideous loneliness and torture in silence and in darkness! What death,
what torture, what punishment can you mete out to these men that would
compare in hideousness with that which I have suggested?”
After he had ceased speaking the others remained in silent contemplation
of his proposition for some time. It was The Cid who broke the silence.
“Bulf,” he said, “I believe that he is right, for I know that as much as
I love life I would rather die than be left alone in one of the palace
dungeons.”
Bulf nodded his head slowly. “I hate to give up my plan,” he said, “for
I should like to inflict that torture upon this Sarian myself. But,” and
he turned to the cadaverous one, “you are right. You have named a
torture infinitely worse than any that I could conceive.”
“Thus is it ordered,” said The Cid, “to separate palace dungeons for
life.”
In utter silence, unbroken by the Korsar assemblage, Tanar and David
were blindfolded; Tanar felt himself being stripped of all his ornaments
and of what meager raiment it was his custom to wear, with the exception
of his loin cloth. Then he was pushed and dragged roughly along, first
this way and then that. He knew when they were passing through narrow
corridors by the muffled echoes and there was a different reverberation
of the footsteps of his guards as they crossed large apartments. He was
hustled down flights of stone steps and through other corridors and at
last he felt himself lowered into an opening, a guard seizing him under
each arm. The air felt damp and it smelled of mold and must and of
something else that was disgusting, but unrecognizable to his nostrils.
And then they let go of him and he dropped a short distance and landed
upon a stone flagging that felt damp and slippery to his bare feet. He
heard a sound above his head—a grating sound as though a stone slab had
been pushed across a stone floor to close the trap through which he had
been lowered. Then Tanar snatched the bandage from his eyes, but he
might as well have left it there for he found himself surrounded by
utter darkness. He listened intently, but there was no sound, not even
the sounds of the retreating footsteps of his guards—darkness and
silence—they had chosen the most terrible torture that they could
inflict upon a Sarian—silence, darkness and solitude.
For a long time he stood there motionless and then, slowly, he commenced
to grope his way forward. Four steps he took before he touched the wall
and this he followed two steps to the end, and there he turned and took
six steps to cross before he reached the wall on the opposite side, and
thus he made the circuit of his dungeon and found that it was four by
six paces—perhaps not small for a dungeon, but narrower than the grave
for Tanar of Pellucidar.
He tried to think—to think how he could occupy his time until death
released him. Death! Could he not hasten it? But how? Six paces was the
length of his prison cell. Could he not dash at full speed from one end
to the other, crushing his brains out by the impact? And then he
recalled his promise to Stellara, even in the face of her appeal to him
to take his own life—“I shall not die of my own hand.”
Again he made the circuit of his dungeon. He wondered how they would
feed him, for he knew that they would feed him because they wished him
to live as long as possible, as only thus might they encompass his
torture. He thought of the bright sun shining down upon the table-lands
of Sari. He thought of the young men and the maidens there free and
happy. He thought of Stellara, so close, up there above him somewhere,
and yet so infinitely far away. If he were dead, they would be closer.
“Not by my own hand,” he muttered.