KO-TAH IS KILLED
As rapidly as I could I made my way from the palace of Ko-tah, and
upward, terrace by terrace, toward the palace of the Jemadar. I had
never presented myself at Sagroth’s palace since Nah-ee-lah had so
grievously offended me. I did not even know the customary procedure to
follow to gain an audience with the Emperor, but nevertheless I came
boldly to the carven gates and demanded to speak with the officer in
command of the guards. When he came I told him that I desired to speak
either with Sagroth or the Princess Nah-ee-lah at once, upon a matter of
the most urgent importance.
“Wait,” he said, “and I will take your message to the Jemadar.”
He was gone for what seemed to me a very long time, but at last he
returned, saying that Sagroth would see me at once, and I was conducted
through the gates and into the palace toward the small audience chamber
in which Sagroth had once received me so graciously. As I was ushered
into the room I found myself facing both Sagroth and Nah-ee-lah. The
attitude of the Jemadar seemed apparently judicial, but that of the
Princess was openly hostile.
“What are you doing here, traitor?” she demanded, without waiting for
Sagroth to speak, and at the same instant a door upon the opposite side
of the room burst open and three warriors leaped into the apartment with
bared swords. They wore the livery of Ko-tah, and I knew instantly the
purpose for which they had come. Drawing my own sword, I leaped forward.
“I have come to defend the life of the Jemadar and his Princess,” I
cried, as I sprang between them and the advancing three.
“What means this?” demanded Sagroth. “How dare you enter the presence of
your Jemadar with drawn sword?”
“They are the assassins of Ko-tah come to slay you!” I cried. “Defend
yourself, Sagroth of Laythe!” And with that, I tried to engage the three
until help arrived.
I am no novice with the sword. The art of fencing has been one of my
chief diversions since my cadet days in the Air School, and I did not
fear the Laytheans, though I knew that, even were they but mediocre
swordsmen, I could not for long withstand the assaults of three at once.
But upon this point I need not have concerned myself, for no sooner had
I spoken than Sagroth’s sword leaped from its scabbard, and placing
himself at my side, he fought nobly and well in defense of his life and
his honor.
One of our antagonists merely tried to engage me while the other two
assassinated the Jemadar. And so, seeing that he was playing me, and
that I could do with him about as I pleased if I did not push him too
hard, I drove him back a few steps until I was close at the side of one
of those who engaged Sagroth. Then before any could know my intention, I
wheeled and lunged my sword through the heart of one of those who
opposed the father of Nah-ee-lah. So quickly had I disengaged my former
antagonist, so swift my lunge, that I had recovered and was ready to
meet the renewed assaults of the first who had engaged me almost before
he realized what had happened.
It was man against man, now, and the odds were even. I had no
opportunity to watch Sagroth, but from the ring of steel on steel, I
knew that the two were bitterly engaged. My own man kept me well
occupied. He was a magnificent swordsman, but he was only fighting for
his life; I was fighting for more—for my life and for my honor, too,
since after the word “traitor” that Nah-ee-lah had hurled at me, I had
felt that I must redeem myself in her eyes. I did not give any thought
at all to the question as to just why I should care what Nah-ee-lah the
Moon Maid thought of me, but something within me reacted mightily to the
contempt that she had put into that single word.
I could catch an occasional glimpse of her standing there behind the
massive desk at which her father had sat upon the first occasion of my
coming to this chamber. She stood there very tense, her wide eyes fixed
upon me in evident incredulity.
I had almost worn my man down and we were fighting now so that I was
facing Nah-ee-lah, with my back toward the doorway through which the
three assassins had entered. Sagroth must have been more than holding
his own, too, for I could see his opponent slowly falling back before
the older man’s assaults. And then there broke above the clang of steel
a girl’s voice—Nah-ee-lah’s—raised in accents of fear.
“Julian, beware! Behind you! Behind you!”
At the instant of her warning the eyes of my antagonist left mine,
which, for his own good, they never should have done, and passed in a
quick glance over my shoulder at something or someone behind me. His
lack of concentration cost him his life. I saw my opening the instant
that it was made, and with a quick lunge I passed my blade through his
heart. Whipping it out again, I wheeled to face a dozen men springing
into the chamber. They paid no attention to me, but leaped toward
Sagroth, and before I could prevent he went down with half a dozen
blades through his body.
Upon the opposite side of the desk from us was another doorway directly
behind Nah-ee-lah, and in the instant that she saw Sagroth fall, she
called to me in a low voice: “Come, Julian, quick! Or we, too, are
lost.”
Realizing that the Jemadar was dead and that it would be folly to remain
and attempt to fight this whole roomful of warriors, I leaped the desk
and followed Nah-ee-lah through the doorway beyond. There was a cry,
then, from someone within the room, to stop us, but Nah-ee-lah wheeled
and slammed the door in their faces as they rushed forward, fastened it
upon our side and then turned to me.
“Julian,” she said, “how can you ever forgive me? You who have risked
your life for the Jemadar, my father, in spite of the contemptible
treatment that in my ignorance I have accorded you?”
“I could have explained,” I said, “but you would not let me. Appearances
were against me, and so I cannot blame you for thinking as you did.”
“It was wicked of me not to listen to you, Julian, but I thought that
Ko-tah had won you over, as he has won over even some of the staunchest
friends of Sagroth.”
“You might have known, Nah-ee-lah, that, even could I have been disloyal
to your father, I never could have been disloyal to his daughter.”
“I did not know,” she said. “How could I?”
There suddenly came over me a great desire to take her in my arms and
cover those lovely lips with kisses. I could not tell why this
ridiculous obsession had seized upon me, nor why, of a sudden, I became
afraid of little Nah-ee-lah, the Moon Maid. I must have looked very
foolish indeed, standing there looking at her, and suddenly I realized
how fatuous I must appear, and so I shook myself and laughed.
“Come, Nah-ee-lah,” I said, “we must not remain here. Where can I take
you, that you will be safe?”
“Upon the outer terrace there may be some of the loyal guards,” she
replied, “but if Ko-tah has already taken the palace, flight will be
useless.”
“From what I know of the conspiracy, it will be useless,” I replied,
“for the service of Sagroth and his palace is rotten with the spies and
retainers of the Javadar.”
“I feared as much,” she said. “The very men who came to assassinate
Sagroth wore the imperial livery less than an ola since.”
“Are there none, then, loyal to you?” I asked her.
“The Jemadar’s guard is always loyal,” she said, “but they number scarce
a thousand men.”
“How may we summon them?” I asked.
“Let us go to the outer terraces and if there are any of them there we
can congregate the balance, or as many of them as Ko-tah has left
alive.”
“Come, then,” I said, “let us hasten;” and together, hand in hand, we
ran along the corridors of the Jemadar’s palace to the outer terraces of
the highest tier of Laythe. There we found a hundred men, and when we
had told them of what had happened within the palace they drew their
swords and, surrounding Nah-ee-lah, they shouted:
“To the death for Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav of Laythe!”
They wanted to remain there and protect her, but I told them that there
would be nothing gained by that, that sooner or later they would be
overwhelmed by far greater numbers, and the cause of Nah-ee-lah lost.
“Send a dozen men,” I said to their commander, “to rally all of the
loyal guards that remain alive. Tell them to come to the throne room,
ready to lay down their lives for the new Jemadav, and then let the
dozen continue on out into the city, rallying the people to the
protection of Nah-ee-lah. As for us, we will accompany her immediately
to the throne room, and there, place her upon the throne and proclaim
her ruler of Laythe. A hundred men may hold the throne room for a long
time, if we reach it before Ko-tah reaches it with his forces.”
The officer looked at Nah-ee-lah questioningly.
“Your command, Jemadav?” he inquired.
“We will follow the plan of Ju-lan the Javadar,” she replied.
Immediately a dozen warriors were dispatched to rally the Imperial Guard
and arouse the loyal citizens of the city to the protection of their new
Jemadav, while the balance of us conducted Nah-ee-lah by a short course
toward the throne room.
As we entered the great chamber at one end, Ko-tah and a handful of
warriors came in at the other, but we had the advantage, in that we
entered through a doorway directly behind the throne and upon the dais.
“Throw your men upon the main entrance,” I called to the officer of the
guard, “and hold it until reinforcements come;” and then, as the hundred
raced the length of the throne room toward the surprised and enraged
Ko-tah, I led Nah-ee-lah to the central throne and seated her upon it.
Then stepping forward, I raised my hand for silence.
“The Jemadar Sagroth is dead!” I cried. “Behold Nah-ee-lah, the Jemadav
of Laythe!”
“Stop!” cried Ko-tah, “she may share the throne with me, but she may not
possess it alone.”
“Take that traitor!” I called to the loyal guard, and they rushed
forward, evidently glad to do my bidding. But Ko-tah did not wait to be
taken. He was accompanied by only a handful of men, and when he saw that
the guard really intended to seize him and realized that he would be
given short shift at the hands of Nah-ee-lah and myself, he turned and
fled. But I knew he would come back, and come back he did, though not
until after the majority of the Jemadav’s guard had gathered within the
throne room.
He came with a great concourse of warriors, and the fighting was
furious, but he might have brought a million men against our thousand
and not immediately have overcome us, since only a limited number could
fight at one time in the entrance way to the throne room. Already the
corpses lay stacked as high as a man’s head, yet no single member of
Ko-tah’s forces had crossed the threshold.
How long the fight was waged I do not know, but it must have been for a
considerable time, since I know that our men fought in relays and rested
many times, and that food was brought from other parts of the palace to
the doorway behind the throne, and there were times when Ko-tah’s forces
withdrew and rested and recuperated, but always they came back in
greater number, and eventually I realized we must be worn down by the
persistence of their repeated attacks.
And then there arose slowly a deep-toned sound, at first we could not
interpret. It rose and fell in increasing volume, until finally we knew
that it was the sound of human voices, the voices of a great mob—of a
mighty concourse of people and that it was sweeping toward us slowly and
resistlessly.
Closer and closer it approached the palace as it rose, terrace upon
terrace, toward the lofty pinnacle of Laythe. The fighting at the
entrance to the throne room had almost ceased. Both sides were worn down
almost to utter exhaustion, and now we but stood upon our arms upon
either side of the wall of corpses that lay between us, our attention
centered upon the sound of the growling multitude that was sweeping
slowly upward toward us.
“They come,” cried one of Nah-ee-lah’s nobles, “to acclaim the new
Jemadav and to tear the minions of Ko-tah the traitor to pieces!”
He spoke in a loud voice that was easily audible to Ko-tah and his
retainers in the corridor without.
“They come to drag the spawn of Sagroth from the throne!” cried one of
Ko-tah’s followers. And then from the throne came the sweet, clear voice
of Nah-ee-lah:
“Let the people’s will be done,” she said, and thus we stood, awaiting
the verdict of the populace. Nor had we long to wait, for presently we
realized that they had reached the palace terrace and entered the
building itself. We could hear the shouting horde moving through the
corridors and chambers, and finally the muffled bellowing resolved
itself into articulate words:
“Sagroth is no more! Rule, Ko-tah, Jemadar of Laythe!”
I turned in consternation toward Nah-ee-lah. “What does it mean?” I
cried. “Have the people turned against you?”
“Ko-tah’s minions have done their work well during these many kelds,”
said the commander of the Jemadav’s guard, who stood upon the upper
steps of the dais, just below the throne. “They have spread lies and
sedition among the people which not even Sagroth’s just and kindly reign
could overcome.”
“Let the will of the people be done,” repeated Nah-ee-lah.
“It is the will of fools betrayed by a scoundrel,” cried the commander
of the guard. “While there beats a single heart beneath the tunic of a
guardsman of the Jemadav, we shall fight for Nah-ee-lah, Empress of
Laythe.”
Ko-tah’s forces, now augmented by the rabble, were pushing their way
over the corpses and into the throne room, so that we were forced to
join the defenders, that we might hold them off while life remained to
any of us. When the commander of the guard saw me fighting at his side
he asked me to return to Nah-ee-lah.
“We must not leave the Jemadav alone,” he said. “Return and remain at
her side, Ju-lan the Javadar, and when the last of us has fallen, drive
your dagger into her heart.”
I shuddered and turned back toward Nah-ee-lah. The very thought of
plunging my dagger into that tender bosom fairly nauseated me. There
must be some other way, and yet, what other means of escape could there
be for Nah-ee-lah, who preferred death to the dishonor of surrender to
Ko-tah, the murderer of her father? As I reached Nah-ee-lah’s side, and
turned again to face the entrance to the throne room, I saw that the
warriors of Ko-tah were being pushed into the chamber by the mob behind
them and that our defenders were being overwhelmed by the great number
of their antagonists. Ko-tah, with a half-dozen warriors, had been
carried forward, practically without volition, by the press of numbers
in their rear, and even now, with none to intercept him, was running
rapidly up the broad center aisle toward the throne. Some of those in
the entrance way saw him, and as he reached the foot of the steps
leading to the dais, a snarling cry arose:
“Ko-tah the Jemadar!”
With bared sword, the fellow leaped toward me where I stood alone
between Nah-ee-lah and her enemies.
“Surrender, Julian!” she cried. “It is futile to oppose them. You are
not of Laythe. Neither duty nor honor impose upon you the necessity of
offering your life for one of us. Spare him, Ko-tah!” she cried to the
advancing Javadar, “and I will bow to the will of the people and
relinquish the throne to you.”
“Ko-tah the traitor shall never sit upon the throne of Nah-ee-lah!” I
exclaimed, and leaping forward, I engaged the Prince of Laythe.
His warriors were close behind him, and it behooved me to work fast, and
so I fought as I had never guessed that it lay within me to fight, and
at the instant that the rabble broke through the remaining defenders and
poured into the throne room of the Jemadars of Laythe, I slipped my
point into the heart of Ko-tah. With a single piercing shriek, he threw
his hands above his head and toppled backward down the steps to lie dead
at the foot of the throne he had betrayed.
For an instant the silence of death reigned in the great chamber. Friend
and foe stood alike in the momentary paralysis of shocked surprise.
That tense, breathless silence had endured for but a moment, when it was
shattered by a terrific detonation. We felt the palace tremble and rock.
The assembled mob looked wildly about, their eyes filled with fear and
questioning. But before they could voice a question, another thunderous
report burst upon our startled ears, and then from the city below the
palace there arose the shrieks and screams of terrified people. Again
the palace trembled, and a great crack opened in one of the walls of the
throne room. The people saw it, and in an instant their anger against
the dynasty of Sagroth was swallowed in the mortal terror which they
felt for their own safety. With shrieks and screams they turned and
bolted for the doorway. The weaker were knocked down and trampled upon.
They fought with fists and swords and daggers, in their mad efforts to
escape the crumbling building. They tore the clothing from one another,
as each sought to drag back his fellow, that he might gain further in
the race for the outer world.
And as the rabble fought, Nah-ee-lah and I stood before the throne of
Laythe, watching them, while below us the few remaining members of the
Jemadar’s guard stood viewing in silent contempt the terror of the
people.
Explosion after explosion followed one another in rapid succession. The
people had fled. The palace was empty, except for that handful of us
faithful ones who remained within the throne room.
“Let us go,” I said to Nah-ee-lah, “and discover the origin of these
sounds, and the extent of the damage that is being done.”
“Come,” she said, “here is a short corridor to the inner terrace, where
we may look down upon the entire city of Laythe.” And then, turning to
the commander of the guard she said: “Proceed, please, to the palace
gates, and secure them against the return of our enemies, if they have
by this time all fled from the palace grounds.”
The officer bowed, and followed by the few heroic survivors of the
Jemadar’s guard, he left by another corridor for the palace gates, while
I followed Nah-ee-lah up a stairway that led to the roof of the palace.
Coming out upon the upper terrace, we made our way quickly to the edge
overlooking the city and the crater. Below us a shrieking multitude ran
hither and thither from terrace to terrace, while, now here and now
there, terrific explosions occurred that shattered age-old structures
and carried debris high into the air. Many terraces showed great gaps
and tumbled ruins where other explosions had occurred and smoke and
flames were rising from a dozen portions of the city.
But an instant it took me to realize that the explosions were caused by
something that was being dropped into the city from above, and as I
looked up I saw a missile describing an arc above the palace, past which
it hurtled to a terrace far below, and at once I realized that the
missile had originated outside the city. Turning quickly, I ran across
the terrace to the outer side which overlooked the plateau upon which
the city stood. I could not repress an exclamation of astonishment at
the sight that greeted my eyes, for the surface of the plateau was alive
with warriors. Nah-ee-lah had followed me and was standing at my elbow.
“The Kalkars,” she said. “They have come again to reduce Laythe. It has
been long since they attempted it, many generations ago, but what is it,
Julian, that causes the great noise and the destruction and the fires
within Laythe?”
“It is this which fills me with surprise,” I said, “and not the presence
of the Kalkar warriors. Look! Nah-ee-lah,” and I pointed to a knoll
lying at the verge of the plateau, where, unless my eyes deceived me
badly, there was mounted a mortar which was hurling shells into the city
of Laythe. “And there, and there,” I continued, pointing to other
similar engines of destruction mounted at intervals. “The city is
surrounded with them, Nah-ee-lah. Have your people any knowledge of such
engines of warfare or of high explosives?” I demanded.
“Only in our legends are such things mentioned,” she replied. “It has
been ages since the inhabitants of Va-nah lost the art of manufacturing
such things.”
As we stood there talking, one of the Jemadar’s guards emerged from the
palace and approached us.
“Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav,” he cried, “there is one here who craves audience
with you and who says that if you listen to him you may save your city
from destruction.”
“Fetch him,” replied Nah-ee-lah. “We will receive him here.”
We had but a moment to wait when the guardsman returned with one of
Ko-tah’s captains.
“Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav,” he cried, when she had given him permission to
speak, “I come to you with a message from one who is Jemadar of
Jemadars, ruler of all Va-nah. If you would save your city and your
people, listen well.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “You are speaking to your Jemadav, fellow,”
she said. “Be careful, not only of your words, but of your tone.”
“I come but to save you,” replied the man sullenly. “The Kalkars have
discovered a great leader, and they have joined together from many
cities to overthrow Laythe. My master does not wish to destroy this
ancient city, and there is but one simple condition upon which he will
spare it.”
“Name your condition,” said Nah-ee-lah.
“If you will wed him, he will make Laythe the capital of Va-nah, and you
shall rule with him as Jemadav of Jemadavs.”
Nah-ee-lah’s lips curled in scorn. “And who is the presumptuous Kalkar
that dares aspire to the hand of Nah-ee-lah?” she demanded.
“He is no Kalkar, Jemadav,” replied the messenger. “He is one from
another world, who says that he knows you well and that he has loved you
long.”
“His name,” snapped Nah-ee-lah impatiently.
“He is called Or-tis, Jemadar of Jemadars.”
Nah-ee-lah turned toward me with elevated brows and a smile of
comprehension upon her face.
“Or-tis,” she repeated.
“Now, I understand, my Jemadav,” I said, “and I am commencing to have
some slight conception of the time that must have elapsed since I first
landed within Va-nah, for even since our escape from the Va-gas Orthis
has had time to discover the Kalkars and ingratiate himself among them,
to conspire with them for the overthrow of Laythe, and to manufacture
explosives and shells and the guns which are reducing Laythe this
moment. Even had I not heard the name, I might have guessed that it was
Orthis, for it is all so like him—ingrate, traitor, cur.”
“Go back to your master,” she said to the messenger, “and tell him that
Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav of Laythe, would as leave mate with Ga-va-go the
Va-gas as with him, and that Laythe will be happier destroyed and her
people wiped from the face of Va-nah than ruled by such a beast. I have
spoken. Go.”
The fellow turned and left us, being accompanied from Nah-ee-lah’s
presence by the guardsman who had fetched him, and whom Nah-ee-lah
commanded to return as soon as he had conducted the other outside the
palace gates. Then the girl turned to me:
“O, Julian, what shall I do? How may I combat these terrible forces that
you have brought to Va-nah from another world?”
I shook my head. “We, too, could manufacture both guns and ammunition to
combat him, but now we have not the time, since Laythe will be reduced
to a mass of ruins before we could even make a start. There is but one
way, Nah-ee-lah, and that is to send your people—every fighting man
that you can gather, and the women, too, if they can bear arms, out upon
the plateau in an effort to overwhelm the Kalkars and destroy the guns.”
She stood and thought for a long time, and presently the officer of the
guard returned and halted before her, awaiting her commands. Slowly she
raised her head and looked at him.
“Go into the city,” she said, “and gather every Laythean who can carry a
sword, a dagger, or a lance. Tell them to assemble on the inner terraces
below the castle, and that I, Nah-ee-lah their Jemadav, will address
them. The fate of Laythe rests with you. Go.”