A MONSTER IN ARMOR.
Grandon protested that the jagged wound in his forehead was a mere
scratch, but Vernia insisted on binding it for him, and did so with
adroitness.
When she had finished, he rose dizzily and opened the door of the cab,
whereupon a pungent odor assailed their nostrils, an odor similar to
that produced by pouring sulphuric acid on copper.
He switched on the forward searchlight, which revealed the shattered
front of their craft jammed against an enormous tree-trunk. The keel
rested in a forked branch, which kept them from falling. A thin column
of vapor curled upward from the shattered hull, emitting the stifling
odor that had greeted them when he opened the door.
"I guess we are done with flying," said Grandon, eying the wreck
askance. "At least, we will fly no more with this airship."
"Is it so badly broken?"
"The power mechanism is destroyed. An Olban once told me that a phial
of acid was placed within each mechanism in such fashion that it
would instantly destroy it if tampered with. Evidently the shock of
our encounter with the tree-trunk broke the phial, for the fumes are
unmistakably those of acid on metal. We are fortunate in the fact that
our velocity was retarded by the smaller limbs of this tree before we
struck the trunk, as we were traveling at a tremendous speed, and would
have been crushed to pulp but for the timely interposition of those
branches."
Grandon flashed the searchlight about them in an effort to ascertain
where they were, but above, below and around them on every side
they could see only branches and leaves. And such leaves! They were
spatulate in shape, and a dark glossy green in color, varying between
fifteen and twenty feet in length, while the stems were from eight to
twelve inches thick. Each twig would have made a good sized fern tree,
while the trunk against which their craft had jammed was a full fifty
feet in thickness, even at the great height they knew themselves to be
from the ground.
"Not much use to do any exploring before morning, I guess," said
Grandon. "This is a giant of a tree. In what part of Reabon do these
trees grow, and what do you call them?"
"There are no trees like this in Reabon," replied Vernia, "nor was I
aware that there were such trees anywhere on Zarovia. Are you positive
that we have been traveling due north?"
Grandon glanced at the compass. He noted with surprise that it pointed
to his right.
"Strange," he said. "Just a moment before we struck, the needle pointed
in the direction in which we were traveling. Now it points at right
angles to the keel. There must be something wrong with it. I'm afraid
we'll have to wait until the sun rises to get our bearings."
"We can at least be positive of two things. That we are not in Reabon,
and that we are in some unexplored part of Zarovia."
At dawn, Grandon made his way down the tree trunk, clinging to the
rough, curling bark with fingers and toes. It was a long, perilous
descent, a matter of at least a thousand feet, and he guessed half an
hour must have elapsed before he stood on the ground.
* * * * *
The forest giant under which he stood was more than a hundred feet in
diameter at the base. All about him, as far as he could see, were many
more like it. He noticed that all of the trees were connected by broad
surface roots, and this fact, together with the total absence of spores
or seeds, apprised him of the reason why these trees were, in all
probability, confined to a single locality.
They must have begun and evolved on this part of the planet without
developing other means of propagation than that of sending out surface
roots to form new plants at some distance from the parent trees.
Consequently their spread would be regulated, not only by the number
of new trees they could produce in this manner, but by the character
of the surrounding country as well, for any barrier such as a body of
water or a stretch of barren, rocky land would effectually check their
progress in any given direction.
Marking his trail by slashing trees or surface roots with his knife as
he passed along, Grandon started his journey of exploration. He felt
insignificant, a veritable pygmy, as he walked beneath those mighty
spires of wood, treading matted, molding leaves that were nearly as
long as the airship, and climbing over surface roots so thick that
often he could not see over them. After he had traveled thus for more
than half an hour he saw a number of tall, conical mounds ahead of him,
and judged, from the regularity of their construction, that they housed
human beings. As he approached more closely he observed that they were
all dotted here and there with round holes about four feet in diameter.
He arrived within fifty feet of the nearest mound without noting any
signs of animate life, and, concluding that it must be deserted,
stepped boldly forward.
Then, without the slightest hint of warning, one of the inhabitants
appeared. Evidently the thing had been watching Grandon from the
inside, for it darted out suddenly and ran toward him on its six horny
legs with incredible swiftness.
The creature was about the size of a small Shetland pony, with eyes
as big as dinner plates set in a head more than two feet across and
surmounted by two long, jointed antennæ, with jaws not only armed
with sharp, cutting mandibles, but with a huge pair of forceps large
enough to encircle two men. Its entire body was covered with glistening
ivory-white armor. It came at him with its antennæ laid back and
forceps outspread.
Instinctively, his hand sought his tork. He pressed the button again
and again, but the bullets seemed to have no effect whatever, so he
drew his sword and awaited the onslaught.
For all the effect his blade had on that glistening white armor he
might as well have used a willow wand. The forceps encircled him,
crushing the breath from his body, and he was dragged, kicking and
struggling, into the dark hole.
* * * * *
Back in Reabon's capital, Prince Destho, cousin of Vernia and heir to
the throne of Reabon, paced restlessly back and forth on the roof of
the imperial palace. His sensuous mouth twitched, and he nervously
twirled his thin mustache, as he gazed far out over the housetops
toward the point where the north road met the horizon.
"Blood of my ancestors!" he muttered. "Will that sneaking hahoe of a
Zueppa never send me word? Six days since they set out, and no message."
He paused suddenly, and strained his eyes toward a thin streak of dust
which appeared far down the road.
"The car of the princess!" he gasped. "He has failed and divulged the
plot." His face went suddenly pale at the thought. "But, no. It flies
not the standard of Vernia. He has succeeded."
Destho hurried jubilantly down the stairway.
In the great courtyard, Zueppa stepped from the car and dramatically
announced the news that was to shock an entire world. Vernia had
disappeared, together with her four guards. It was thought they had
been killed by wild beasts, or captured and carried off by the Traveks.
Instantly the courtyard was in an uproar. People poured out from
the palace and crowded through the gates to learn the cause of the
disturbance. Loud lamentations were heard as the news passed from mouth
to mouth, for Vernia was popular with her subjects.
The disappearance of the Torrogina automatically placed the regency
in the hands of Destho. He was not especially well liked, and saw an
opportunity to raise himself in the popular esteem. Mounting to the
topmost palace step and clapping his hands for silence, he announced
that he would immediately raise an army of a hundred thousand men and
personally conduct the search for their beautiful young ruler. This
statement was greeted with shouts of approval, and, for the first time
in his life, the degenerate prince was cheered by the populace.
With a knowing leer at Zueppa, the new ruler of Reabon turned and
entered the palace.