distance up the little watercourse and examined carefully some bushes
growing on its banks. They seemed to excite both interest and pleasure.
'I know those plants,' he explained to his companions. 'They will
provide us with a very fair and toothsome supper, and they also tell me
a story. You wished to know where we had drifted to, and I can now tell
you almost exactly.
'This is not the Great Desert--fortunately, we have not travelled far
enough to reach that--but a tract lying upon its borders. We are in a
region situated between the desert and the country of Iraynia, which,'
he added slowly, and with some sadness in his tone, 'is my native land.'
'Oh!' said Alondra; 'so you are a native of Iraynia! I have heard a
good deal about that country, though I have never been there. Was there
not some great fuss or trouble there some years ago, before my
father'----
'Before King Ivanta allowed the tyrant Agrando to annex it, would you
say? Yes, Prince, there was. And thereby hangs a tale. I will not
tell it to you now, however--it will keep for another time; but I may
say that it is a tale of terrible, almost incredible wrong, and
treachery, and wickedness. It is that great wrong which I wished to
induce King Ivanta to inquire into, in order that the memory of a good
man's name may be cleared from dishonour. That man was my father,
Prince; and that was the reward I was hoping to win from King Ivanta.
Now you will understand why I said I could not share my reward, if I
obtained what I hoped for, with any one else!'
There were notes of deep feeling and sadness in the young fellow's voice
as he spoke in low, incisive tones, turning his face away the while as
though afraid he might break down.
There was a pause; then Alondra said gently and sympathetically, 'I am
sorry, indeed, that you have such a heavy trouble to bear. Later on you
shall give me fuller particulars, and I will myself lay them before my
father. He is just and fearless in punishing where wrong has been done,
and if he finds, on investigation, that your story is true, I am certain
he will right you, and the memory of your father, and punish the
wrongdoers.'
'He will have to fight to maintain his own position ere that can come
about, I fear!' rejoined Malto gravely. 'But I thank you, Prince, all
the same, for your sympathy and your promise. Another day I will, as you
say, give you the details--when the time comes. Let me now explain how
we are situated here. We are in a desolate territory known as Kubandia.
It is nothing but a maze of arid rocks and mountains, and wild, gloomy
gorges and valleys, almost waterless, but not so bad, in that respect,
as the Great Desert which lies beyond. For the reasons I have mentioned
the tract has a bad name, and also for another--that there are bands of
reckless outlaws who have made it their fastness. They are, I believe,
for the most part remnants or descendants of men who were originally
honest patriots--men who were driven into exile by Agrando's heavy hand
when he took over the government of the country. Now, I fear, they are,
most of them, no better than brigands and unscrupulous adventurers. It
is said that there are many bands, under different heads, but all
directed by one leader--a clever, daring chief, of whom wild tales are
told. His name is Fumenta; and it is a name held in terror by Agrando's
followers. But for this man's wonderful genius and bravery, it is
believed these brigands would all have been exterminated before this.
He has, somehow, managed to evade capture for many years, and carry on a
guerilla warfare, holding his own in these wild valleys and gorges in
spite of all the forces Agrando has sent against him. Such, at least,
is what we hear. I myself can say nothing as to this part from my own
knowledge, because I have been brought up in Agrando's city and forced
to be one of his servitors.'
'Naturally, however, you cannot help feeling a certain amount of
sympathy for these outlaws, who are your own countrymen, and who have
been driven, as you think, perhaps unjustly, into exile, eh?' queried
Alondra, eying the other keenly.
'It may be so--deep down in my mind,' was the quiet answer. 'Certainly,
however, I have no sympathy with tales of robbery and murder such as are
related of these bands. But, of course, they may not be true, or they
may be very much exaggerated. We only hear one side, that told by
Agrando's people; and from my own experience I can tell you that it is
not safe to believe all they assert.'
'But how do you know where we are, if, as you say, you only know of all
these things by hearsay?' was Alondra's shrewd query.
'Oh, I have been in these parts before as a boy, and I know that those
plants yonder are peculiar to this region. You do not find them
anywhere else.'
'I see. Well, if they are good to eat, let us try them as soon as we
can. For my part, I am hungry enough to devour anything that is fairly
eatable.'
'We must have a fire. It is the root which is good to eat; and it
requires cooking,' Malto returned. 'I have dug these roots up and
cooked them many times when picnicking out here with other youngsters.
If you others will get some wood together, and start a fire, I will soon
have a first-rate supper ready for you.'
The young fellow proved as good as his word, and some half-hour later,
just as darkness fell, they were all sitting round a cheerful fire,
discussing a very agreeable meal off something which had a flavour not
unlike baked potatoes.
'Humph! Not a bad thing to fall back upon in a wilderness like this!'
Jack declared. 'And what are we going to do afterwards? How are we to
get back to our friends?'
'That is not easy to say,' Malto answered soberly. 'We must have passed
right over my country to get here, and that alone means two or three
hundred miles. It is a land which is full of Agrando's followers, and
you may be sure that his airships will, by this time, be cruising about
in search of us.'
'That sounds cheerful! Looks as if we shall have to stay here and do a
bit of outlaw business on our own account!' cried Jack.
Malandris glanced at him with a very grave expression in his eyes.
'Your remark exactly describes the position, young sir, though spoken,
doubtless, half in jest. I am sorry to have to say it, for it is not a
trifling matter. For myself, I accept it as preferable to the fate from
which you all so pluckily aided to rescue me. But it grieves me that I
should live to see the son of the good and wise King Ivanta in the
position of a hunted fugitive!'
Alondra started and flushed up at these plain words. But there was in
the elder man's eyes a look so thoroughly honest and kindly that it was
impossible to take offence.
'Perhaps such an experience will do me no harm,' he answered, after a
minute's thought. 'That is, provided it ends in the right way. It is
better than passing the time in Agrando's palace as his captive. My
father is sure to rescue us in his own good time. He will follow us up
and find us out, wherever we are, and the punishment he will inflict on
his daring enemies will be terrible. Does Agrando hug to himself the
notion that he can pit himself against his overlord?' Alondra continued,
with a proud curl of his lip. 'Why, where is his fleet? What means has
he of resisting my father's power?'
'He has been making secret preparations ever since his return from his
trip to the evening star. I feel sure of that!' Malto declared.
'Why don't you try a wireless message?' Jack asked of Alondra.
The young prince shook his head. 'It is useless. The little instrument
you saw does not carry far enough,' he explained. 'Monck Affelda cannot
hear me unless he is within a hundred miles. But you may be sure of one
thing, the news of all that has happened has before this been flashed
through to my father, and he is already on his way to our assistance in
the _Ivenia_. How can Agrando think he can prevail in the end against
such a monster of the skies as the _Ivenia_?'
As he spoke these words there was a sudden illumination of the spot
where they were sitting round their fire, and the sound of voices was
heard. Lights were flashed upon them from the air above, dazzling their
eyes and rendering it impossible to make out what had happened or who
the speakers were. But the words were unmistakable; some one had called
out in harsh, hoarse tones, 'Surrender! You are my prisoners! If you
make any attempt at resistance you are all dead men!'
*CHAPTER XXX.*
*CAPTURED.*
When the ominous summons to surrender was heard, shouted down from some
invisible person in the air above them, it was Malto who took upon
himself to reply.
His brain had been working quickly. At first he had feared that it was
Agrando's people who had thus found them out, but a moment's reflection
convinced him that such a thing was extremely improbable. If it were
indeed so, then, such was his detestation of his late master, and horror
of again falling into his clutches, that he would rather have died
fighting than yield.
But Agrando's men would have acted first. There would have been no
preliminary summons; they would simply have used their tridents to
render the fugitives powerless at once. The inference was that these
must be some other people who were not armed with tridents. All the
same, resistance was probably useless, as they could not even see their
adversaries, and a fight could only end in one way. So he called out,
'Who are you? And why do you threaten us? We have no quarrel with you,
whoever you are. We are peaceable folk.'
'You will find out who we are in good time,' was the answer, given with
a grim laugh. 'Will you surrender quietly, or shall we'----
The speaker did not finish the sentence, but waited for an answer, as
though he considered it unnecessary to say more.
There were other sounds, however, which had caught Malto's quick
ear--sounds as of a number of men moving about amongst the surrounding
rocks, and from these he drew the inference that the threat that had
been made was not likely to prove an idle one.
'If we yield, what are you going to do with us?' he asked again.
'That is for us to say. We cannot make any bargain with you,' was the
answer given roughly and impatiently.
'Will you guarantee us good treatment? Remember, I have told you we are
peaceable folk. Have you no fear that King Agrando will call you to
account?'
At this there was a harsh laugh.
'We have no fear of Agrando or his ruffians,' the voice declared
jeeringly. 'You will gain nothing by appealing to him here.'
'Then you ought to welcome us as friends instead of treating us as
enemies, for we have no more bitter foe than that same Agrando.'
'Why,' cried another voice, 'the fellow is mocking us! Is he not
himself one of Agrando's myrmidons? He is dressed in the tyrant's
uniform--ay, and so is another I can see beside him!'
'A man may wear another's uniform and yet be no friend of'---- Malto
began, when Malandris interrupted him. It struck him that the second
speaker was not unknown to him.
'I ought to know that voice!' he exclaimed. 'I should recognise it among
a thousand. Surely it is Landris, who was once a friend of mine!'
'It is Malandris,' they heard the second man then say; and there ensued
a colloquy in a low tone between the unseen speakers. Presently the
second man's voice was heard again.
'If you are Malandris, what are you doing here? If you have come out at
the tyrant's bidding to join in hunting us down'----
'We are fugitives, Landris. We have run away from him, as you yourself
did once, and for the same reason--because we could put up with his
treatment no longer. He condemned me to the cage of the krudias--his
great monstrous bats--but by good chance these brave gentlemen, who are
my companions, rescued me, and we all had to flee for our lives in
consequence.'
Again there was a conference in low tones, and what seemed to be an
argument ensued. At last the one called Landris said aloud, 'I tell you
I will have it so! I know this Malandris to be an honest man, and once
he saved my life; and I insist that he and those with him shall go
before the chief and speak for themselves.'
'Oh, very well, if you insist!' the other replied. 'But, recollect, if
there is trouble about it, it is your doing, not mine.'
'You will have to be bound and blindfolded, Malandris--all of you,'
Landris now said. 'I will conduct you to our leader, and you can tell
your story to him. If he believes that you speak the truth he will not
harm you--indeed, he may welcome you if so be that you care to join him
and fight against Agrando, even as he did with me.'
'Lead us to him, friend Landris. That is all I ask,' Malandris said.
A few moments later the fugitives found themselves in the midst of a
crowd of rough-looking men, who climbed down from the adjoining rocks,
bringing with them lanterns and pieces of rope.
They were certainly not by any means of attractive appearance, and their
apparel was of the coarsest. Their hair and beards, too, were unkempt,
and their manners gruff and surly. But they had the appearance of
alert, hardy veterans of the wilds; and in their handling of their
prisoners there was nothing cruel or insulting.
The one named Landris greeted Malandris with quiet friendliness, and his
companion--the one who had called upon them to surrender--also came and
conversed with the prisoners. His name, it appeared, was Duralda. He
was a fine, picturesque figure of a man, with bearded face, shaggy hair,
and dressed in what had probably once been a rich costume, but had
evidently seen its best days. This man examined and questioned each
prisoner in turn, but showed no resentment when, acting upon a hint from
Malandris, they told him civilly that they preferred to tell what they
had to tell to his chief.
Their wings and other belongings were packed up by the band--of whom it
was now seen there were fully a hundred--and in due time the whole party
commenced a march over very difficult, rocky ground.
At the end of some two hours a halt was called. They were then
blindfolded, and the march resumed in slow fashion, each captive being
led by two guards, one on each side.
[Illustration: They were then blindfolded, and the march resumed.]
This time, after ascending some steep, broken ground, they came to
steps, up which their guards assisted them.
At length there was another halt, and a low, tumultuous murmuring sound
told them that they must have arrived in the midst of a considerable
assembly.
Then the bandages were removed from their eyes, and they gazed round
upon a marvellous scene.
*CHAPTER XXXI.*
*AT HOME IN A VOLCANO.*
The prisoners found themselves in the middle of what they took to be a
vast round building, with an immense domed roof, open to the sky in the
centre. As a matter of fact, they afterwards knew it to be the interior
of the crater of an extinct volcano.
Into the open part, one of Mars' two moons was peeping, throwing down a
warm, mellow light, very different from the pale silvery beams of our
own moon.
But this soft radiance was lost in the bright illumination given out by
thousands of lights of some kind which were placed about within the
great dome--some round the rocky walls, others high up in the wide,
lofty roof.
Round the sides, below, were seats, rising tier upon tier, save at one
place, where was a platform or dais, upon which were raised seats with a
canopy over them. Just in front of the highest seat stood a man of
commanding appearance, who gazed at the prisoners with a look of keen,
searching scrutiny. This man, as they afterwards learned, was the chief
of whom Malto had spoken--the one who was known as Fumenta. He was
dressed as plainly as his followers--indeed, more plainly than some of
them; but there was that in his face, in his manner, in his very pose,
which singled him out from all the rest, and proclaimed the fact that he
was their leader.
That he must be old was apparent from the gray beard and the gray hair
which showed beneath his head-covering--a kind of helmet. His face,
too, was seamed and marked, and spoke eloquently of a life of hardship
and adventure. But his tall figure was upright and stalwart, and
exhibited no sign of failing strength; while his dark, piercing eyes
were flashing with a fire almost as of youth.
Duralda and Landris mounted, by means of three or four steps, on to the
platform, and, after a respectful salutation, conferred in a low tone
with their leader. Meantime, those seated around--of whom there must
have been many hundreds--ceased their talk, and gazed in silence at the
prisoners.
Presently, Fumenta turned from his henchmen, and, fixing his eagle
glance upon the captives, began to question them. 'Who are you?' he
asked. 'And what are you doing in these parts?' His voice was
sonorous, and, though stern, not unpleasing. He glanced from one to the
other, as if to mark the effect of his question upon each in turn; but
he evidently addressed himself more particularly to Malandris, who had
been pointed out by Landris.
'We were storm-tossed travellers at the time we were captured, my lord,'
Malandris answered. 'We had lost our way. Apart from that, we were
fugitives fleeing from'----
Fumenta's eyes flashed and his brow grew dark.
'I want a plain answer,' he interrupted warningly. 'You--you two--wear
Agrando's hated livery; you are evidently his servitors--some of his
myrmidons! Woe to you if you have come here to play the part of spy for
him!'
At the mention of the words 'livery' and 'servitors,' Malto had started
and flushed. And now at the word 'spy' he seemed to lose control of
himself. He laid a hand on Malandris, as though asking that the
answering of the questions should be left to him. Then, drawing himself
up, he said haughtily, 'Though we are your prisoners, sir, I fail to see
why we should endure your insults without protest! It is true, alas!
that I have for many years been one of Agrando's servitors--ay, even his
slave, I may almost say. But I am not the first, nor the only one, of
gentle birth, who has been forced by the tyrant to serve him thus. At
last, however, I have escaped, and I only await the opportunity of
picking up some other suit of clothes to throw off for ever what you
aptly call his hated livery. If you are, indeed, as I suspect, the
chief Fumenta of whom I have heard, I have no reason for fear, for I
have been told of him that he is brave and just, an upright, chivalrous
gentleman, though he has been sorely persecuted. I have never heard,
however, that he was given to insulting his prisoners, and taunting them
with having been forced to serve a hateful tyrant.'
Alondra, who had been engaged in 'taking stock,' so to speak, of
everything and every one around, turned and looked at Malto in surprise.
The young man had suddenly come out in a new character. He was looking
his questioner squarely in the face, his eyes flashing back glance for
glance, his whole attitude full of indignant protest. Yet was there in
it nothing of rudeness; on the contrary, even in his defiance, there was
a subtle suggestion of that deference which a young man may always pay
to age without lowering his own dignity.
But what was even more noticeable was the fact that Fumenta himself
appeared to be just as much taken aback as Alondra had been. To the
surprise of every one there--his own people most of all--he showed no
sign of anger, and the look he cast at the speaker, shrewd, searching,
as it was, was free from all trace of irritation. There was a pause,
while he eyed the young man from head to foot. He looked at him as if
trying to read his very soul. Then, for a moment, a quick, eager
expression came into his face; but it faded again instantly, he passed
his hand over his forehead in a strange, dreamy way, and finally shook
his head.
When he spoke again his tone was gentler. 'You are bold, young sir,' he
said. 'Few dare to speak to me as you have done. Yet if you tell the
truth your boldness will be justified, for it shall never be said that
those who have called me a just man spoke falsely. I confess I like
your spirit; you remind me of---- But it's useless now to speak of
that. What is your name?'
'I have been known as Malto. But it is not my true name.'
'How so?'
'Agrando chose, for purposes of his own, that I should be called Malto
while I was yet but a boy; and I had no choice but to submit.'
'Ha! But why, then, after serving him and submitting to him for so many
years, did you suddenly wish to leave him?'
'Because, sir, something accidentally came to my knowledge of which I
had previously been ignorant. It is rather a long story, but I may say
briefly that I wished to make a personal appeal to King Ivanta.
Instead, however, we had to flee for our lives in the midst of the great
storm which has but just passed, and we were carried here by the high
wind.'
'With these companions?' asked Fumenta. For the first time he seemed to
notice the prince's rich dress. Malto's personality had so attracted
his attention that for the time being he had troubled little about the
others. Now he seemed suddenly interested in Alondra. 'And who, young
sir, are you?' he queried.
Alondra drew himself up, and proudly answered, 'My name is Alondra, son
of King Ivanta!'
The words had a marvellous effect; they seemed to electrify the
assembly. Till then every one had been silent, content to await quietly
the result of their chief's questioning, and anxious to hear all that
was said. Now there burst out a great commotion. Every one present
sprang up in amazement. Some simply stood and stared in helpless
astonishment; some leaned forward to gaze upon the youth as though
scarcely able to believe their ears; others, again, turned to their
nearest neighbours, and began talking and gesticulating excitedly.
Exclamations were heard, some of which gave a clue to the cause of this
excitement: 'What a piece of luck for us!' 'What a hostage!' 'Now King
Ivanta must listen to us; we can compel him!'
It was obvious that these outlaws regarded the young prince as a great
prize--one which they meant to turn to account in negotiating with
Ivanta.
As to Fumenta, he, it was easy to perceive, was nearly as much
astonished by the statement as were his followers. He seemed, indeed,
almost too surprised for speech, and for a few minutes exhibited some
signs of incredulity. Then, suddenly making up his mind, he bent his
head courteously, and said, 'It is a pity we did not know this sooner.
Had you told my people at first who you were, Prince, they would have
handled you a little more gently, I expect. They are rough fellows; the
life we lead has made them so.'
'I have not complained,' said Alondra, with one of his good-natured
smiles. 'But certainly I wish now that I had spoken sooner, if it would
have been better for these friends of mine. They are my royal father's
guests, and are supposed to be under his protection. But Agrando has
suddenly revolted. We went there on a peaceful visit, and he made a
treacherous attack upon my whole party, and sought to take us
prisoners.'
Fumenta started, while from the listening throng came loud exclamations.
Every one strained his ears in eager excitement.
'What do you tell me?' exclaimed Fumenta, evidently utterly amazed.
'Agrando in revolt! Tried to seize you and your party! Is that, then,
the reason you are fleeing from him?'
'Truly, we had no other course open to us, as we were situated. I
myself and these companions were cut off from my followers, and we had
to make our escape as and how we could. It was a desperate venture, as
you know, to cast ourselves loose in the air in such a storm. But it was
our only chance. Had we not taken the risk we should have been
Agrando's prisoners. I do not even now know how his traitorous attack
turned out. I don't know whether my followers have got away or have
been captured. But this I do know,' he concluded, looking round
proudly, 'there will be a heavy reckoning for all this. My father King
Ivanta will be already on his way, by this time, to look for us, and to
punish Agrando and his treacherous crew.'
To the astonishment of Alondra and those with him, this speech was
received by the whole assembly with a great burst of cheering. Again
and again, and yet again, did it ring out. And the shouters, after
cheering themselves hoarse, pressed forward and crowded round the
'prisoners,' seeking eagerly to kiss the prince's hand, or, failing
that, to shake hands with one or another of his companions.