eternity of loneliness that confronted him, and he found that through
the despair of utter hopelessness his own unconquerable spirit could
still discern hope, for no matter what his plans they all looked forward
to a day of freedom and he realized that nothing short of death ever
could rob him of this solace, and so his plan finally developed.
He must in some way keep his mind from dwelling constantly upon the
present. He must erase from it all consideration of the darkness, the
silence and the solitude that surrounded him. And he must keep fit,
mentally and physically, for the moment of release or escape. And so he
planned to walk and to exercise his arms and the other muscles of his
body systematically to the end that he might keep in good condition and
at the same time induce sufficient fatigue to enable him to sleep as
much as possible, and when he rested preparatory to sleep he
concentrated his mind entirely upon pleasant memories. And when he put
the plan into practice he found that it was all that he had hoped that
it would be. He exercised until he was thoroughly fatigued and then he
lay down to pleasant day dreams until sleep claimed him. Being
accustomed from childhood to sleeping upon hard ground, the stone
flagging gave him no particular discomfort and he was asleep in the
midst of pleasant memories of happy hours with Stellara.
But his awakening! As consciousness slowly returned it was accompanied
by a sense of horror, the cause of which gradually filtered to his
awakening sensibilities. A cold, slimy body was crawling across his
chest. Instinctively his hand seized it to thrust it away and his
fingers closed upon a scaly thing that wriggled and writhed and
struggled.
Tanar leaped to his feet, cold sweat bursting from every pore. He could
feel the hairs upon his head rising in horror. He stepped back and his
foot touched another of those horrid things. He slipped and fell, and,
falling, his body encountered others—cold, clammy, wriggling. Scrambling
to his feet he retreated to the opposite end of his dungeon, but
everywhere the floor was covered with writhing, scaly bodies. And now
the silence became a pandemonium of seething sounds, a black caldron of
venomous hisses.
Long bodies curled themselves about his legs and writhed and wriggled
upward toward his face. No sooner did he tear one from him and hurl it
aside than another took its place.
This was no dream as he had at first hoped, but stark, horrible reality.
These hideous serpents that filled his cell were but a part of his
torture, but they would defeat their purpose. They would drive him mad.
Already he felt his mind tottering and then into it crept the cunning
scheme of a madman. With their own weapons he would defeat their ends.
He would rob them quickly of the power to torture him further, and he
burst into a shrill, mirthless laugh as he tore a snake from around his
body and held it before him.
The reptile writhed and struggled and very slowly Tanar of Pellucidar
worked his hand upward to its throat. It was not a large snake for
Pellucidar, measuring perhaps five feet in length with a body about six
inches in diameter.
Grasping the reptile about a foot below its head with one hand, Tanar
slapped it repeatedly in the face with the other and then held it close
to his breast. Laughing and screaming, he struck and struck again, and
at last the snake struck back, burying its fangs deep in the flesh of
the Sarian.
With a cry of triumph Tanar hurled the thing from him, and then slowly
sank to the floor upon the writhing, wriggling forms that carpeted it.
“With your own weapons I have robbed you of your revenge,” he shrieked,
and then he lapsed into unconsciousness.
Who may say how long he lay thus in the darkness and silence of that
buried dungeon in a timeless world. But at length he stirred; slowly his
eyes opened and as consciousness returned he felt about him. The stone
flagging was bare. He sat up. He was not dead and to his surprise he
discovered that he had suffered neither pain nor swelling from the
strike of the serpent.
He arose and moved cautiously about the dungeon. The snakes were gone.
Sleep had restored his mental equilibrium, but he shuddered as he
realized how close he had been to madness, and he smiled somewhat
shamefacedly, as he reflected upon the futility of his needless terror.
For the first time in his life Tanar of Pellucidar had understood the
meaning of the word fear.
As he paced slowly around his dungeon one foot came in contact with
something lying on the floor in a corner—something which had not been
there before the snakes came. He stooped and felt cautiously with his
hand and found an iron bowl fitted with a heavy cover. He lifted the
cover. Here was food and without questioning what it was or whence it
came, he ate.
XVI
THE DARKNESS BEYOND
The deadly monotony of his incarceration dragged on. He exercised; he
ate; he slept. He never knew how the food was brought to his cell, nor
when, and after a while he ceased to care.
The snakes came usually while he slept, but since that first experience
they no longer filled him with horror. And after a dozen repetitions of
their visit they not only ceased to annoy him, but he came to look
forward to their coming as a break in the deadly monotony of his
solitude. He found that by stroking them and talking to them in low
tones he could quiet their restless writhing. And after repeated
recurrences of their visits he was confident that one of them had become
almost a pet.
Of course in the darkness he could not differentiate one snake from
another, but always he was awakened by the nose of one pounding gently
upon his chest, and when he took it in his hands and stroked it, it made
no effort to escape; not ever again did one of them strike him with its
fangs after that first orgy of madness, during which he had thought and
hoped that the reptiles were venomous.
It took him a long time to find the opening through which the reptiles
found ingress to his cell, but at length, after diligent search, he
discovered an aperture about eight inches in diameter, some three feet
above the floor. Its sides were worn smooth by the countless passings of
scaly bodies. He inserted his hand in the opening and feeling around
discovered that the wall at this point was about a foot in thickness,
and when he inserted his arm to the shoulder he could feel nothing in
any direction beyond the wall. Perhaps there was another chamber
there—another cell like his—or possibly the aperture opened into a deep
pit that was filled with snakes. He thought of many explanations and the
more he thought the more anxious he became to solve the riddle of the
mysterious space beyond his cell. Thus did his mind occupy itself with
trivial things, and the loneliness and the darkness and the silence
exaggerated the importance of the matter beyond all reason until it
became an obsession with him. During all his waking hours he thought
about that hole in the wall and what lay beyond in the Stygian darkness
which his eyes could not penetrate. He questioned the snake that rapped
upon his chest, but it did not answer him and then he went to the hole
in the wall and asked the hole. And he was on the point of becoming
angry when it did not reply when his mind suddenly caught itself, and
with a shudder he turned away, realizing that this way led to madness
and that he must, above all else, remain master of his mind.
But still he did not abandon his speculation; only now he conducted it
with reason and sanity, and at last he hit upon a shrewd plan.
When next his food was brought and he had devoured it he took the iron
cover from the iron pot, which had contained it, and hurled it to the
stone flagging of his cell, where it broke into several pieces. One of
these was long and slender and had a sharp point, which was what he had
hoped he would find in the débris of the broken cover. This piece he
kept; the others he put back into the pot and then he went to the
aperture in the wall and commenced to scratch, slowly, slowly, slowly at
the hard mortar in which the stones around the hole were set.
He ate and slept many times before his labor was rewarded by the
loosening of a single stone next to the hole. And again he ate and slept
many times before a second stone was removed.
How long he worked at this he did not know, but the time passed more
quickly now and his mind was so engrossed with his labors that he was
almost happy.
During this time he did not neglect his exercising, but he slept less
often. When the snakes came he had to stop his work, for they were
continually passing in and out through the hole.
He wished that he knew how the food was brought to his cell, that he
might know if there was danger that those who brought it could hear him
scraping at the mortar in the wall, but as he never heard the food
brought he hoped that those who brought it could not hear him and he was
quite sure that they could not see him.
And so he worked on unceasingly until at last he had scratched away an
opening large enough to admit his body, and then for a long time he sat
before it, waiting, seeking to assure himself that he was master of his
mind, for in this eternal night of solitude that had been his existence
for how long he could not even guess, he realized that this adventure
which he was facing had assumed such momentous proportions that once
more he felt himself upon the brink of madness. And now he wanted to
make sure that no matter what lay beyond that aperture he could meet it
with calm nerves and a serene and sane, mind, for he could not help but
realize that keen disappointment might be lying in wait for him, since
during all the long periods of his scratching and scraping since he had
discovered the hole through which the snakes came into his cell he had
realized that a hope of escape was the foundation of the desire that
prompted him to prosecute the work. And though he expected to be
disappointed he knew how cruel would be the blow when it fell.
With a touch that was almost a caress he let his fingers run slowly over
the rough edges of the enlarged aperture. He inserted his head and
shoulders into it and reached far out upon the other side, groping with
a hand that found nothing, searching with eyes that saw nothing, and
then he drew himself back into his dungeon and walked to its far end and
sat down upon the floor and leaned back against the wall and
waited—waited because he did not dare to pass that aperture to face some
new discouragement.
It took him a long time to master himself, and then he waited again. But
this time, after reasoned consideration of the matter that filled his
mind.
He would wait until they brought his food and had taken away the empty
receptacle—that he might be given a longer interval before possible
discovery of his absence, in the event he did not return to his cell.
And though he went often to the corner where the food was ordinarily
deposited, it seemed an eternity before he found it there. And after he
had eaten it, another eternity before the receptacle was taken away; but
at last it was removed. And once again he crossed his cell and stood
before the opening that led he knew not where.
This time he did not hesitate. He was master of his mind and nerves.
One after the other he put his feet through the aperture until he sat
with his legs both upon the far side of the wall. Then, turning on his
stomach, he started to lower himself, because he did not know where the
floor might be, but he found it immediately, on the same level as his
own. And an instant later he stood erect and if not free, at least no
longer a prisoner within his own cell.
Cautiously he groped about him in the darkness, feeling his way a few
inches at a time. This cell, he discovered, was much narrower than his
own, but it was very long. By extending his hands in both directions he
could touch both walls, and thus he advanced, placing a foot cautiously
to feel each step before he took it.
He had brought with him from his cell the iron sliver that he had broken
from the cover of the pot and with which he had scratched himself thus
far toward freedom. And the possession of this bit of iron imparted to
him a certain sense of security, since it meant that he was not entirely
unarmed.
Presently, as he advanced, he became convinced that he was in a long
corridor. One foot came in contact with a rough substance directly in
the center of the tunnel. He took his hands from the walls and groped in
front of him.
It was a rough-coated cylinder about eight inches in diameter that rose
directly upward from the center of the tunnel, and his fingers quickly
told him that it was the trunk of a tree with the bark still on, though
worn off in patches.
Passing this column, which he guessed to be a support for a weak section
of the roof of the tunnel, he continued on, but he had taken but a
couple of steps when he came to a blank wall—the tunnel had come to an
abrupt end.
Tanar’s heart sank within him. His hopes had been rising with each
forward step and now they were suddenly dashed to despair. Again and
again his fingers ran over the cold wall that had halted his advance
toward hoped for freedom, but there was no sign of break or crevice, and
slowly he turned back toward his cell, passing the wooden column and
retracing his steps in utter dejection. But as he moved sadly along he
mustered all his spiritual forces, determined not to let his expected
disappointment crush him. He would go back to his cell, but he would
still continue to use the tunnel. It would be a respite from the
monotony of his own four walls. It would extend the distance that he
might walk and after all he would make it worth the effort that had been
necessary to gain ingress to it.
Back in his own cell again he lay down to sleep, for he had denied
himself sleep a great deal of late that he might prosecute the work upon
which he had been engaged. When he awoke the snakes were with him again
and his friend was tapping gently on his chest, and once again he took
up the dull monotony of his existence, altered only by regular
excursions into his new found domain, the black interior of which he
came to know as well as he did his own cell, so that he walked briskly
from the hole he had made to the wooden column at the far end of the
tunnel, passed around it and walked back again at a brisk gait and with
as much assurance as though he could see plainly, for he had counted the
paces from one end to the other so many times that he knew to an instant
when he had covered the distance from one extremity to the other.
He ate; he slept; he exercised; he played with his slimy, reptilian
companion; and he paced the narrow tunnel of his discovery. And often
when he passed around the wooden column at its far end, he speculated
upon the real purpose of it.
Once he went to sleep in his own cell thinking about it, and when he
awoke to the gentle tapping of the snake’s snout upon his breast he sat
up so suddenly that the reptile fell hissing to the flagging, for clear
and sharp upon the threshold of his awakening mind stood an idea—a
wonderful idea—why had he not thought of it before?
Excitedly he hastened to the opening leading into the tunnel. Snakes
were passing through it, but he fought for precedence with the reptilian
horde and tumbled through head first upon a bed of hissing snakes.
Scrambling to his feet he almost ran the length of the corridor until
his outstretched hands came in contact with the rough bole of the tree.
There he stood quite some time, trembling like a leaf, and then,
encircling the column with his arms and legs, he started to climb slowly
and deliberately aloft. This was the idea that had seized him in its
compelling grip upon his awakening.
Upward through the darkness he went, and pausing now and then to grope
about with his hands, he found that the tree trunk ran up the center of
a narrow, circular shaft.
He climbed slowly upward and at a distance of about thirty feet above
the floor of the tunnel, his head struck stone. Feeling upward with one
hand he discovered that the tree was set in mortar in the ceiling above
him.
This could not be the end! What reason could there be for a tunnel and a
shaft that led nowhere? He groped through the darkness in all directions
with his hand and he was rewarded by finding an opening in the side of
the shaft about six feet below the ceiling. Quitting the bole of the
tree he climbed into the opening in the wall of the shaft, and here he
found himself in another tunnel, lower and narrower than that at the
base of the shaft. It was still dark, so that he was compelled to
advance as slowly and with as great caution as he had upon that occasion
when he first explored his tunnel below.
He advanced but a short distance when the tunnel turned abruptly to the
right, and ahead of him, beyond the turn, he saw a ray of light!
A condemned man snatched from the jaws of death could not have greeted
salvation with more joyousness than Tanar of Pellucidar greeted this
first slender ray of daylight that he had seen for a seeming eternity.
It shone dimly through a tiny crevice, but it was light, the light of
heaven that he had never expected to again behold.
Enraptured, he walked slowly toward it, and as he reached it his hand
came in contact with rough, unpainted boards that blocked his way. It
was through a tiny crack between two of these boards that the light was
filtering.
As dim as the light was it hurt his eyes, so long unaccustomed to light
of any kind. But by turning them away so that the light did not shine
directly into them, he finally became accustomed to it, and when he did
he discovered that as small as the aperture was through which the light
came it let in sufficient to dispel the utter darkness of the interior
of the tunnel and he also discovered that he could discern objects. He
could see the stone walls on either side of the tunnel, and by looking
closely he could see the boards that formed the obstacle that barred his
further progress. And as he examined them he discovered that at one side
there was something that resembled a latch, an invention of which he had
been entirely ignorant before he had come aboard the Korsar ship upon
which he had been made prisoner, for in Sari there are no locks nor
latches.
But he knew the thing for what it was and it told him that the boards
before him formed a door, which opened into light and toward liberty,
but what lay immediately beyond?
He clinched his ear to the door and listened, but he heard no sound.
Then very carefully he examined the latch, experimenting with it until
he discovered how to operate it. Steadying his nerves, he pushed gently
upon the rough planks. As they swung away from him slowly a flood of
light rushed into the first narrow crack, and Tanar covered his eyes
with his hands and turned away, realizing that he must become accustomed
to this light slowly and gradually, or he might be permanently blinded.
With closed eyes he listened at the crack, but could hear nothing. And
then with utmost care he started to accustom his eyes to the light, but
it was long before he could stand the full glare that came through even
this tiny crack.
When he could stand the light without pain he opened the door a little
further and looked out. Just beyond the door lay a fairly large room, in
which wicker hampers, iron and earthen receptacles and bundles sewed up
in hides littered the floor and were piled high against the walls.
Everything seemed covered with dust and cobwebs and there was no sign of
a human being about.
Pushing the door open still further Tanar stepped from the tunnel into
the apartment and looked about him. Everywhere the room was a litter of
bundles and packages with articles of clothing strewn about, together
with various fittings for ships, bales of hide and numerous weapons.
The thick coating of dust upon everything suggested to the Sarian that
the room had not been visited lately.
For a moment he stood with his hand still on the open door and as he
started to step into the room his hand stuck for an instant where he had
grasped the rough boards. Looking at his fingers to ascertain the cause
he discovered that they were covered with sticky pitch. It was his left
hand and when he tried to rub the pitch from it he found that it was
almost impossible to do so.
As he moved around the room examining the contents everything that he
touched with his left hand stuck to it—it was annoying, but unavoidable.
An inspection of the room revealed several windows along one side and a
door at one end.
The door was equipped with a latch similar to that through which he had
just passed and which was made to open from the outside with a key, but
which could be operated by hand from the inside. It was a very crude and
simple affair, and for that Tanar would have been grateful had he known
how intricate locks may be made.
Lifting the catch Tanar pushed the door slightly ajar and before him he
saw a long corridor, lighted by windows upon one side and with doors
opening from it upon the other. As he looked a Korsar came from one of
the doorways and, turning, walked down the corridor away from him and a
moment later a woman emerged from another doorway, and then he saw other
people at the far end of the corridor. Quickly Tanar of Pellucidar
closed and latched the door.
Here was no avenue of escape. Were he back in his dark cell he could not
have been cut off more effectually from the outer world than he was in
this apartment at the far end of a corridor constantly used by Korsars;
for with his smooth face and his naked body, he would be recognized and
seized the instant that he stepped from the room. But Tanar was far from
being overwhelmed by discouragement. Already he had come much further on
the road to escape than he had previously dreamed could be possible and
not only this thought heartened him, but even more the effect of
daylight, which had for so long been denied him. He had felt his spirit
and his courage expand beneath the beneficent influence of the light of
the noonday sun, so that he felt ready for any emergency that might
confront him.
Turning back once more into the room he searched it carefully for some
other avenue of escape. He went to the windows and found that they
overlooked the garden of The Cid, but there were many people there, too,
in that part of the garden close to the palace. The trees cut off his
view of the far end from which he had helped Stellara and Gura to
escape, but he guessed that there were few, if any, people there, though
to reach it would be a difficult procedure from the windows of this
storeroom.
To his left, near the opposite side of the garden, he could see that the
trees grew closely together and extended thus apparently the full length
of the enclosure.
If those trees had been upon this side of the garden he guessed that he
might have found a way to escape; at least as far as the gate in the
garden wall close to the barracks, but they were not and so he must
abandon thought of them.
There seemed, therefore, no other avenue of escape than the corridor
into which he had just looked; nor could he remain indefinitely in this
chamber where there was neither food nor water and with a steadily
increasing danger that his absence from the dungeon would be discovered
when they found that he did not consume the food they brought him.
Seating himself upon a bale of hide Tanar gave himself over to
contemplation of his predicament and as he studied the matter his eyes
fell upon some of the loose clothing strewn about the room. There he saw
the shorts and shirts of Korsar, the gay sashes and head handkerchiefs,
the wide topped boots, and with a half smile upon his lips he gathered
such of them as he required, shook the dust from them and clothed
himself after the manner of a Korsar. He needed no mirror though to know
that his smooth face would betray him.
He selected pistols, a dirk and a cutlass, but he could find neither
powder nor balls for his firearms.
Thus arrayed and armed he surveyed himself as best he might without a
mirror. “If I could keep my back toward all Korsar,” he mused, “I might
escape with ease for I warrant I look as much a Korsar as any of them
from the rear, but unless I can grow bushy whiskers I shall not deceive
anyone.”
As he sat musing thus he became aware suddenly of voices raised in
altercation just outside the door of the storeroom. One was a man’s
voice; the other a woman’s.
“And if you won’t have me,” growled the man, “I’ll take you.”
Tanar could not hear the woman’s reply, though he heard her speak and
knew from her voice that it was a woman.
“What do I care for The Cid?” cried the man. “I am as powerful in Korsar
as he. I could take the throne and be Cid myself, if I chose.”