Author: Kirk Straughen
Synopsis: Blake Langdon is mysteriously catapulted into another world of weird multifarious dangers. Plunged into a series of wild adventures he must battle terrible monsters and strange foes possessed of weird powers. Will he survive his tumultuous ordeals or fall prey to the horrid threats that lurk at every turn? Read the story to find the answer if you dare.
Edit History: Minor changes were made to this story on 8 June 2021.
Blake Langdon looked down upon the rolling dew kissed vineyards of the Hunter Valley region. It was dawn, and the light of the rising sun infused the drifting clouds with hues of gold and red and orange in a glorious palette of vibrant colours whose beauty was not lost to the wondering aeronaut.
The morning air was cool and fresh, the breeze gentile – ideal flying conditions for the hot air balloon he piloted. The young man’s hand rested on the burner controls, and every now and then he sent a jet of roaring fire into the balloon’s envelope to keep his craft on as level a flight as possible.
Balloon flights were a feature of region – a noted destination for tourists who came to enjoy the wineries and their scenic environs which could be best appreciated from the air. Today, however, Langdon carried no passengers, for this was a test flight of the new balloon his employer, Dawnflight Tours, had but recently purchased.
The flight was progressing well. The burner was working as it should and the envelope appeared free of leaks. The suspension cables took the weight of the basket and its sandbags, which represented a full load of passengers, with no signs of failing. Langdon turned and looked at the ground crew that had assisted in the launching of the balloon, observing his progress through binoculars. They were now ant-like figures far below him and he wondered if he’d see the strange sight Jamison, a member of the group had claimed to have observed the previous morning.
Langdon turned and scanned the heavens, recalling how Jamison had described it as a “swirling hole in the sky.” Was it some strange atmospheric phenomenon – something like a mirage? The young man was inclined to believe this was the most likely explanation. But there was a nagging doubt in his mind. Jamison had been quite shaken by his sighing of the anomaly. His wild cry had caused his companions to rush to his side. He stood there trembling, pointing to the west, but there was nothing to be seen. Whatever it was it had disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as it had come.
Jamison was a sober and reliable man, not one to be shaken by something as mundane as a trick of the light. Langdon knew him well and doubted he was the type to engage in flights of fancy or experience hallucinations. When he’d calmed sufficiently to speak coherently he’d been ribbed by the other members of the ground crew as to what he’d claimed to have seen, and had quickly clamped up, injured by their teasing even though it was good natured. Nothing more could be gotten out of him concerning the incident, and it was clear he regretted mentioning it.
The breeze was carrying the balloon in a westerly direction, and Langdon gave his full attention to that portion of the sky. The sun had risen higher. Visibility good and that quadrant of the azure heavens free of cloud. If anything was out there he was confident he’d see it.
Time passed and nothing untoward presented itself to his intent gaze. Langdon, somewhat disappointed, shifted his attention to the ground. The test flight was nearly over and he’d best focus on finding a landing spot near a road so those of the ground crew who had been following him in the truck would have an easier task of retrieving the balloon.
A sudden and unexpected change in the direction of his flight made him turn. Langdon gasped at what he saw. His nape hairs rose and chill fear came upon him at the sight. A swirling distortion, like a whirling heat haze, lay directly in his path. It was a spinning vortex, at least a hundred yards in diameter, whose outer edges sparked with crackling streamers of emerald fire.
For a moment Langdon stood in frozen thrall at the astounding sight. But then awareness of the danger spurred him to swift action – his balloon was being drawn inexorably to the centre of the weird phenomenon. Undoubtedly, this is what Jamison had glimpsed, now manifest at a greater distance from the launching sight of the previous morning.
Quickly, Langdon grasped the parachute valve control rope that would open a self sealing flap at the crown of the envelope. He tugged the cord; the valve opened releasing hot air. The balloon began to descend, but to his alarm not fast enough. He was right on top of the unnerving manifestation. He’d never sink beneath it.
Langdon’s knuckles whitened on the rim of the wicker basket. The breeze increased to a wind, then a gale. Air was being sucked into the whirling disc of distorted space and his balloon swept along with it. The streamers of emerald flame about the phenomenon’s circumference blazed higher. The vortex spun faster; shimmered. From it a keening wine rose in pitch and pierced his entire body with red hot needles of sound.
He fell to his knees, hands clapped over his ears. Langdon screamed in wild fear and agony. The balloon struck the disc. Reality, as we understand the term, vanished. An extra-dimensional void opened before him – swirling luminous clouds of purple shot through with emerald flame. The sight ate at his sanity. His mind threatened to crumble under the onslaught of weird sensations beyond human experience and description.
Langdon gibbered like a madman, and perhaps he did go mad for a moment as his mind threatened to crumble under the strain of the unbelievably alien. Overwhelmed senses retreated into merciful unconsciousness. The man collapsed. The purple clouds whirled. Emerald flames danced. The balloon and its insensate pilot vanished into otherness.
**********
Gradually, consciousness returned. Langdon opened his eyes. The comforting familiarity of the balloon’s envelope swayed above him, and what he could see of the sky was the sane azure colour of normality. Whatever had happened to him (and he hadn’t a clue as to what that was) had passed. The danger was over and he gave thanks to providence that he had come through the wild experience with his mind and body intact.
For some time he lay recovering until at last it dawned upon him action was required. Slowly, he rose, for he was still weak from the dreadful experience. Gripping the rim of the basket he looked down, concerned that he might be dangerously close to the ground, for the hot air that kept him aloft would have cooled and he had no way of telling how long he’d been unconscious for his watch had mysteriously stopped.
Langdon’s jaw dropped at the sight beneath him. The landscape of the Hunter Valley had vanished utterly. He now drifted over a shallow sea from which strange trees grew in scattered groves. The growths were enormous – towering four hundred feet at the very least and spreading to two thousand yards in extent. Their vast limbs, like the lintels of a gigantic temple, were supported by huge prop roots that resembled the colossal columns of a cathedral whose architect was God himself.
The leaves were fluted rods of a crimson hue; the warty bark black and glossy as if it had been lacquered. Vast flowers were present in profusion – cup shaped and vivid yellow, as well as a cornucopia of gigantic fruits – spiky orange spheres ten feet in diameter. Huge flying things flittered among the mighty branches, their wings iridescent as opals, their melodious cries like the tinkling of crystal bells.
Langdon closed his eyes and stood very still as again his sanity threatened to abandon him. He took several deep breaths and looked again. The alien scene remained, undeniably and frighteningly real. It became obvious to him that there was a connection between his encounter with the strange phenomenon and his current situation. He had been sucked through the emerald vortex and had entered another world.
How this had been accomplished was beyond his capacity to understand. Indeed, it was probably beyond the capacity of Earth’s greatest scientists to understand. Langdon put the thought aside as practical considerations of survival came to the fore. The thought that he might never get home was too awful to contemplate, so he pushed it from his mind and focused on taking stock of his immediate situation. He had aboard a first aid kit and the Leatherman multi-tool he always carried with him. There was no food as he’d planned to breakfast after the test flight. Checking the burner’s propane tanks he estimated he’d have about an hour’s flying time if he was judicious with the fuel.
Langdon’s immediate concern was the lack of a suitable landing place, for as he turned in a circle he saw nothing but a tree dotted seascape that stretched in all directions to the far horizon. Again, he took a deep breath to calm his rattled nerves. He was at the mercy of the wind and whatever strange fate had cast him into this world. The only thing he could do was be alert and do his best to survive.
Time passed. His fuel grew less and less. The burner spluttered, died as he cast the ballast of sandbags over the side. There was still no sign of land. Langdon steeled himself for the worst as he turned in circle, his spirits sinking lower with every lost foot of altitude. Then he saw it – something in the distance. He strained his eyes. It was a long shape, dark and rising above the tree dotted sea – land!
Fortune smiled upon him. The breeze was carrying him in the direction of what must be a small island. He was still quite high and he judged that, if the wind held, he could make landfall without crashing into the sea. The landmass grew gradually nearer as the balloon sank lower and lower. The island resolved itself with closing distance, but with coming clarity Langdon’s initial joy turned to disbelief then horror.
The island was no island at all. The object was an animal whose vastness beggared belief. The thing, whose size was so colossal it numbed the mind, made an elephant look like a mouse by comparison. Its tremendous ovoid body, which must have been at least four hundred yards in length and two hundred across at its widest point, rose from the sea on ropy arms like the limbs of the mythical kraken to a height of perhaps two hundred feet. The four enormous tentacles, unlike that of a cephalopod, were covered in bronze hued scales as large as dinner plates and ended in huge organic hydrofoils that glided just beneath the waves.
The titan’s back was a hard carapace, and the thickness of the creature’s body was surprisingly marginal when compared to its tremendous length. The underbelly, ivory in colour, consisted of grape like clusters of hydrogen filled bladders that kept the thing aloft. The huge body acted like a sail and the hydrofoils a keel enabling the creature to fly head to wind.
There was no sign of eyes or mouth, no sign of sense organs of any kind. But that it was aware of its environment the amazed man could not doubt, for it steered itself to a coppice of gargantuan aquatic trees that were in its path, using its hydrofoils and the immense gas filled mobile sail-like crests that rose fore and aft . Anchoring organs were let down from the prodigious hydrogen filled belly of the beast and caught the sea bottom, bringing it to a stop.
A monstrous tentacle slowly emerged from beneath the creature’s carapace. It rose serpent-like, buoyed up by inflating blister-like bladders along its length, stretching upward and upward to the high branches of the nearest titan tree. The mouth at the end gaped enormously as it quested clumsily among the vastness of the canopy until it found one of the giant fruits. The thing began to feed with geological slowness.
The immense size, the sheer outlandishness of the monster was compounded by the weird and luxuriant vegetation that grew on its vast back. The strange growths reared from a soil of humus accumulated over numerous centuries. The vegetation was much smaller than the marine growths, being only forty feet in height on average and of a wholly different appearance. The trunks resembled warty bamboo, the boles being about a foot in diameter and slate gray in colour. The crown was a thick mass of fan-shaped fronds, mottled in scarlet and canary yellow, which spiralled down the trunk to about mid point on the tree. Silvery tubular flowers, their petals feathery in appearance, sprouted from the midrib of the fronds, completing the strangeness of the flora.
Langdon was now above the colossal creature. Trepidation was fully upon him – its weirdness and the sheer mind shattering vastness of its size was utterly intimidating. But the balloon was sinking lower. He had limited choices – either land on the monster or crash into the sea. Neither option was particularly appealing, but time was running out. The Earthman came to a decision. He opened the parachute valve. The balloon’s envelope vented hot air and the craft began its descent to the immense creature’s forested carapace.
Langdon prayed that he’d made the right decision as the balloon dropped towards the trees. Crouching in the basket he braced himself for the coming impact. There wasn’t time to find a clear space in which to land. The gondola struck. The basket tilted with alarming violence. The Earthman lost his hold, was flung from the gondola. He plunged in a wild fall, crashed against fronds, fell and hit others. The forest floor rushed up. He struck. Aerial creatures fled in alarm, their bell-like cries ringing through the forest. Then, with their passing, stillness and deathly silence descended upon the scene.
Langdon slowly recovered from his terrifying fall. Carefully, he moved his limbs and head, and to his vast relief found nothing broken or dislocated. He was lying on a strange plant whose springy nature had absorbed much of the impact. The squat growth, lavender in colour with golden striations, consisted of spongy cylinders, each about three feet in length and two inches in diameter, which sprouted like the arms of a candelabrum from a central stem to form a disc shaped crown upon which he had fallen.
Liquid from the crushed growth had splattered him and now some oozed into his mouth. It was sweet with a nutty flavour. Langdon spat it out in a panic when he suddenly realised what it was, fearful it might be poisonous. He struggled from the sticky embrace of the plant and collapsed on the ground. The sweetness of the fluid made him realize his hunger and thirst, and he wondered if anything on this strange world would be edible to a human being.
Sitting with his back against the trunk of a nearby tree Langdon waited, tense with worry. But after ten minutes with no signs of any ill effects from the liquid he’d accidently swallowed he calmed, became hopeful and eyed the crushed plant with thoughtfulness. Poisons, he reasoned would be bitter, or biting like acid. The Earthman decided to take a risk. He was a castaway in otherness. He’d either die now, or later from thirst and starvation.
Langdon approached the plant, broke off one of its cylindrical protuberances and, after a final moment’s hesitation bit into it. The texture was akin to that of a grape, the taste sweet and nutty as before, but more intense. The meal was filling and the rich juice quenched his thirst, but even so some innate sense made him feel it wouldn’t supply all his nutritional needs.
Having satisfied some of the necessities of life, Langdon set out to look for the balloon and its first aid kit, for when he’d tumbled from the basket the lightened craft had risen and been carried away by the prevailing wind. He hoped it hadn’t been blown into the sea.
Now that he was in the miniature jungle that grew on the titanic monster, much of his initial trepidation of it had vanished. Having calmed, Langdon doubted the creature would be any more aware of him than an elephant would be aware of a harmless insect crawling on its back. Slowly, he pushed through the dense undergrowth, which consisted mostly of the plant that had broken his fall.
He started as a large creature suddenly whizzed past him in a blur of humming wings. It moved too rapidly for him to clearly see, but the general impression was of something like a giant coppery dragonfly. The encounter gave him pause for thought about dangerous jungle wildlife. Searching around he soon found a fallen frond whose midrib, stiff and hard, was approximately six feet in length and an inch in diameter.
Langdon used the blade of his Leatherman multi-tool to trim away the withered leaves and sharpen the midrib to a point. The crude spear wasn’t much of a weapon, but its weight in his hands was comforting and he pressed on with renewed confidence, climbing towards the monster’s arching back where he hoped the high point would give him a better view that would aid in locating the balloon.
The trek was a steep struggle through the extremely dense undergrowth, and he had to stop and rest several times, but at last he gained the highest point on the behemoth’s jungle clad back. Here, the vegetation was thinner, forming a glade which permitted a largely unobstructed view in most directions. His disappointment grew as he looked about. The monster’s back sloped away like a hilly island. All about him was the ocean and its towering sea-trees. There was no sign of the balloon and he was forced to conclude it had been swept into the brine.
Turning about a final time, and wondering what his next course of action should be, Langdon’s intense gaze spotted something in the distance. The object was flying towards him with two other shapes following behind. As it drew near the creature, for that is what he assumed it was, seemed to falter in its flight as if from exhaustion, for it slowed and sank lower towards him, obviously intent on settling in the glade.
Uncertain as to its exact nature he prudently retreated into the denser growth at the margin of the glade and awaited developments. Peering through a narrow gap in the vegetation Langdon muttered an oath in amazement as the mysterious flyer slowed and hovered above the clearing.
The thing was a dirigible. Its reddish envelope was a tapered cigar-shape seventeen feet in diameter and eighty in length, which was strangely organic in appearance, being ribbed and veined in the manner of a leaf. The closer Langdon looked the more startled he became. The envelope was indeed alive – a strange form of aerial plant, for he now saw the branching, flower bearing spikes that sprouted horizontally from its rigid woody keel, which had a curtain of root-like growths hanging along its length. The fabricated components of the airship were the web of ropes encasing the living envelope, and its suspension cables that supported a light, open canoe-like gondola measuring twenty feet from bow to stern.
Long horizontal poles projected thwart-wise fore and aft, and upon these rods, at either end, was the strange craft’s motive power – not engines as one might think, but weird creatures the amazed Earthman could only stare at in utter astonishment. The bodies of the four animals were similar to that of a bat, but with fur barred in the fashion of a zebra. The membranous wings of the creatures, whose span measured twenty feet, were black edged and segmented in a pattern of orange and yellow, and the scarlet crested head and beak was more like that of a cockatoo than anything else the astonished man could think of.
The creatures were clearly exhausted from an arduous flight, and as Langdon gazed in growing concern for the suffering animals he saw the craft’s pursuers – vessels of a similar design – rapidly close the distance. Suddenly, from the foremost airship sprung a streaking crossbow bolt that struck the rearmost starboard creature between its beating wings while another quarrel from the other craft pierced the dirigible’s living gasbag.
Crying shrilly, the stricken animal toppled from the pole, its wings thrashing spasmodically for a moment, and then hung dead in the chains about its legs. The dirigible, its gasbag rapidly deflating from another volley of bolts, tilted. Its stern, dragged down by the dead animal, crashed to the ground despite the furious efforts of the remaining creatures to keep it aloft.
The pilot tumbled from the gondola, its bow pointing steeply skyward. Langdon gasped. A woman hung precariously, one foot tangled in a cable. Desperately she fought to free herself as her pursuers circled, firing more deadly bolts that narrowly missed her struggling form.
Langdon cast aside his spear, dashed to the woman’s aid. A crossbow bolt hissed by his head. He ignored it, raced forward with furious speed, his multi-tool ready in his hand. He reached her side as more shafts thudded into the earth at his feet. Two deft slashes with the Leatherman’s blade and the panting woman tumbled into his arms.
Then he was off, racing madly for the jungle, using the bulk of the airship as a shield for his escape as it sank further to the ground, its living engines having collapsed in exhaustion. The clinging woman said something to Langdon in an incomprehensible language. He ignored her, plunged into the undergrowth, spurred by a whistling bolt that grazed his arm. Panting hard the worried Earthman stumbled to a halt, slipped behind the boles of several crowding trees and lowered the woman to the loamy soil.
“We should be fairly safe here,” he gasped out between heaving breaths, as he peered through the trunks, not expecting the woman to understand him, but hoping she’d be able to guess the meaning of his words.
No sign of their enemies could be seen through the dense vegetation, and Langdon wondered if they’d land and continue their pursuit on foot. He turned to the woman, hoping he might get some indication from her as to who they were, why she was being pursued and what would happen next.
They stared at each other for a moment – human and alien, each confounded by the other’s strange appearance. But for her colouration and some minor anatomical differences, the woman could have almost passed for a maiden of Earth. Her skin was blue-grey in colour and her curly hair, which flowed to her slim waist, was as black and glossy as obsidian, and constrained at the nape by a hinged ring of amber crystal. Her hazel eyes, set in a heart-shaped face, were slightly larger than a human’s and had cat-like pupils; her small ears were more elongated in form.
The woman’s lips were fuller than the average European’s and as dark as her glossy hair. Her nose though was aquiline. An embroidered satiny loincloth, her only apparel apart from sturdy sandals, fell to her knees. Her bare breasts were pear-shaped, firmer and more robust than a human woman’s due to differences in their tissue structure. Her nipples were very prominent and the same dark colour as her lips.
She eyed him warily, one hand on the hilt of a long dagger hanging from its belt of amber crystal discs. Before he could speak further the woman’s mobile ears suddenly twitched. She turned her head slightly, and her cat-like pupils dilated as she stared into the undergrowth, her hand stealthily drawing the blade from its sheath which, like her belt, was of the same steely amber crystal.
The woman crouched, motioning Langdon to do likewise. The Earthman complied. Her hearing must be more sensitive than his, he realised. Something was coming. He joined her, nervously and tensely peering through the brush, regretting that he’d been unable to retrieve his makeshift spear.
Within moments he saw movement in the undergrowth. The head and shoulders of a male being came into view, closely followed by another of his kind. They were both of the same species as the woman and, like her, armed with blades of amber crystal and similarly dressed. The only difference he could discern was the burgundy colour of their hair and the emerald hue of their skin.
Closer they came; nearer still, confident that their prey’s unique abilities had been depleted in her battle with others of their kind. It was obvious that within moments both would pass right by the couple’s hiding place. The woman touched Langdon, pointed at the rearmost warrior, then touched her breast and pointed at the foremost. It was clear she meant to ambush her pursuers.
Langdon wasn’t eager, but he realised he had no choice – it was either kill or be killed. The woman tensed like a cat about to spring. Her pursuers drew parallel. She hurled herself at the foe, a wild scream bursting from her lips as the Earthman leapt frenetically at the other.
The fellow spun, blade swinging. Langdon managed to grab his wrist, stabbed with the blade of his multi-tool. But his foe was swift and strong. He, too, snared the Earthman’s limb. Both of them wrestled madly, grunting, heaving as they stumbled round in a crazed waltz. From behind Langdon came the sounds of a fierce struggle as the woman battled her opponent, but his own foe required his full attention and he couldn’t aid her.
Langdon’s adversary drove his knee at the Earthman’s groin. The Earthman managed to block the stroke, albeit barely, by jerking up his own knee and jamming it into his opponent’s thigh. The alien grunted, lost his balance. He dragged Langdon down as he tumbled to the ground. The brawlers rolled, each trying to head-butt each other. They collided with the other fighters. The woman and her adversary fell, crashed down heavily on Langdon and his opponent.
Someone’s elbow struck Langdon in the kidney. Pain lanced him. He cried out, dropped his blade as bodies thrashed madly on top of him. The frenzied warrior broke the debilitated Earthman’s hold upon his wrist. At such close quarters it was impossible for the alien to bring his sword into play, so he clamped both hands about Langdon’s throat in a brutal stranglehold and began to viciously choke the feebly struggling Earthman.
Langdon managed to rally his strength, his wits. He slammed his palms against his foe’s ears. The alien screamed as his eardrums burst. The Earthman sucked air into his starving lungs as the fellow’s hands fell away. With a mighty effort he thrust off those on top of him, rolled gasping to his feet. The woman was still furiously battling her enemy. She, too, had lost her blade in the wild fray and was madly wrestling with her opponent.
The fellow was getting the better of her, mercilessly using his brute strength to subdue her. He grinned evilly, savouring the thought of what victory would bring – rape in revenge for the slaying of many of his fellow warriors in the attack upon her mother ship. Langdon dashed forward, flung an arm about the warrior’s neck in a vicious headlock and hauled him off the writhing, panting woman.
But fight remained in the Earthman’s powerful antagonist. Swiftly, the alien swung his elbow in a vicious strike and slammed it into Langdon’s shin. The Earthman gasped in agony. He stumbled back as his wily foe broke the hold.
The Earthman tripped upon a root, tumbled to the ground. With a cry of dark triumph the warrior snatched up his sword, lunged. Langdon fought through the pain, rolled for the other fallen blade he’d glimpsed from the edge of vision. His foe’s sword plunged into soil – a narrow miss – as the Earthman’s hand closed on the second weapon. Langdon slashed wildly, desperately. Razor sharp and steely crystal slammed into his opponent’s ribs, slicing through flesh and bone as if it were paper.
The man screamed horribly, collapsed in a welter of gore and guts. Langdon scrambled away, appalled at the sickening sight. He struggled unsteadily to his feet, breathing in ragged gasps and saw the woman mercilessly slit the throat of the remaining warrior he’d incapacitated.
Langdon turned away and leaned heavily on a tree, sickened by what he’d seen and done. But he’d barely rested when a cry from the woman alerted him to yet another danger. He swiftly turned, expecting more warriors he’d have to battle, but the thing that had trotted from the undergrowth, attracted by the scent of blood, was not at all humanoid. It was instead the giant omnivorous larva of a flying invertebrate.
The monster’s ebon body was lizard-like in form, but tailless and covered in stubby quills. Its head was not at all reptilian, but resembled that of a stag beetle with its huge and vicious mandibles. The brutish beast stood five feet at the shoulder, supported by six ostrich-like legs. Its bulging compound eyes, dark as coal, locked upon the Earthman. A hiss, like that of escaping steam, erupted from the thing and then it charged at him, iron hard mouthparts scything ferociously.
One look at the monster and the woman bolted. She yelled something at Langdon as he hurled his sword at the charging creature, only to see it bounce harmlessly off the armoured head. The Earthman didn’t need to know the language to understand the gist. All his aches and pains were blotted out by sheer terror. He was right behind her sprinting for his life. To the rear he heard the thing crashing through the undergrowth in furious pursuit. The alarming noise was a stabbing spur to his wild pace.
He plunged through the grasping undergrowth. Cylindrical leaves slapped him, roots tried to trip him. It seemed the entire jungle was conspiring to bring him crashing to the ground. The woman was ahead of him, her lithe form slipping through the brush with envious ease. Langdon pushed himself to the utmost, caught up with her.
They burst into the glade. The woman dashed for a dirigible of their slain foes, tore the hoods off the foremost flying creatures, yelled at Langdon and pointed to the aft beasts. The Earthman got the message, dashed past her and unhooded the remaining animals as their monstrous pursuer erupted from the jungle. Free of the hindering growth it now bore down upon them like a thundering express train, hissing furiously as it clashed its shearing mandibles.
Langdon and the woman leapt into the airship. She slashed the forward anchor rope with her sword, dashed aft, cut the other and shouted a command. The flying beasts beat their mighty wings in response to her shrill cry. The charging monster thundered at them. Langdon watched the rushing horror in tingling fear for it was almost upon them in a ramming plunge that would shatter their flimsy gondola to matchwood. The ship lifted, the charging creature dashed beneath the gondola, flung up its head. Snapping mandibles crashed against the keel, jarring its frightened occupants. Just in time they gained the safety of the air.
The Earthman’s heart was still thudding furiously as he looked down. Below, the enraged beast stamped its clawed feet in frustration as it gazed up at its fleeing prey, vented a final glowering hiss, then turned and stomped sullenly back into the undergrowth, disappearing from sight.
Langdon took a deep calming breath. The rapid succession of tumultuous events had shaken him badly, and he knew he must get a grip on himself if he was to survive. He was young, very fit, and confidant of meeting the physical hazards of this primitive world. But he knew that if his mind cracked he’d be finished.
He felt the eyes of the woman on him. Looking up he saw her approach. The flying creatures apparently needed no guidance at the moment. She sat on a thwart facing Langdon and stared at him with deep puzzlement, wondering at his blond hair and fair complexion and his strange but not unpleasing features.
“Tanu unaze?” she queried in wonder.
Langdon shook his head. “Sorry,” he replied. “I don’t understand.”
The woman thought for a moment as if debating with herself. Then she seemed to make up her mind and moved next to him on the thwart he occupied.
“Pra tuse,” she ordered as she cupped the Earthman’s face and turned his countenance towards her.
Langdon didn’t resist. Her strangeness was a little unsettling, but she seemed friendly enough. Maybe she wanted a better look at him. No doubt he was as exotic to her as she was to him.
Then, to his surprise, she closed her eyes. A movement on her forehead drew his gaze. In the centre of her brow was a vulviform swelling which previously he’d assumed to be a mole-like disfigurement. But now, as it opened like an eye turned vertical, he realised with alarm he’d been terribly mistaken. A sapphire sphere pulsed sinisterly beneath the organ’s parted lips, staring at him like the eye of a blind man. Shivering horror descended upon the Earthman. But before he could jerk away a bolt of crackling silver force leapt from the beating globe and struck him on the brow.
An overwhelming storm of words and ideas exploded in Langdon’s brain. The world spun, his senses reeled in wild confusion. He would have fallen but for the woman’s firm hold on him. Utter terror came upon the Earthman in a savage rush. He screamed like a frightened child, passed out.
With a look of sympathy, the woman gently lowered his unconscious form to the bottom of the airship’s gondola. Tiredly, she massaged her aching head, for she had used the dregs of her unique powers upon him, and it would be some time before she regained all of her abilities.
**********
Langdon regained consciousness, his mind was lethargic, his thoughts confused. Slowly, order emerged from the chaos and he remembered. He sat bolt upright in a panic. The woman was before him, regarding him with quiet concern. The vulviform organ on her forehead was closed, but even so he scrambled away from her in a moment of unreasoning panic, his back thudding hard against the edge of the thwart.
“I mean you no harm,” gently said the woman. “My name is Ulwara, I am a priestess of Ziumu, and I thank you for coming to my aid. I’m sorry my mind-eye frightened you,” she continued, touching the organ on her brow. “It was the only way I could swiftly teach you my language. The usual means of instruction would simply take too long, and we don’t have time for that.”
“I ... I see,” stammered Langdon, still in a state of shock, his astonishment added to by the fact that not only had he understood Ulwara perfectly, but had replied in the woman’s own language as effortlessly as if it was his native tongue.
“Please relax. You no doubt have many questions, for clearly you are a stranger to this world” continued Ulwara. “I will confine myself to what I think is essential information at the moment. When I’m finished you may ask me what you will.”
The priestess commenced her discourse, the essence of which was this: Umharu, as this world was called, was mostly water, with about a thousand islands scattered widely across its globe. At one time, in an age so remote that it was the stuff of legends, there was far more land than now, or so the myths stated. Whether these lands sank beneath the sea through geological subsidence, or whether the sea rose to cover the land, was uncertain. But whatever the cause the ancient culture had been swept away. People, plants and animals slowly changed to adapt to the altered environment and thus a new world was born.
Now, there were perhaps a dozen island nations widely scattered across this area of the planet, most of which were rivals of each other. All had air fleets of dirigibles which were used to harvest the fruit of the ishihala trees – the huge growths that rose from the sea. Most conflicts between nations were over this resource, essential to the spiritual beliefs of the people. It wasn’t that there was any shortage of the fruit – there was more than enough for all including the indvoz – the titan beasts like the one they had landed on. Rather, it was a question of prestige as to which nation had the most trees under its control.
Each Ziumuan airship carried an idol created by a god-maker, and consecrated to the vessel. A priestess was part of the crew, her duties being to perform the rites that would bring good luck and avert misfortune. Ulwara admitted ruefully that despite her best efforts her vessel, the Isikebru, had been destroyed in an attack by an airship from Imbazga, a rival island nation.
Although a priestess she had fought as savagely as any warrior, using the power of her mind-eye to slay many foes. But when it was obvious all was lost – when their craft’s gasbag had been punctured by the ram of their opponent - captain Ebbu had ordered her escape. And so she had fled in a dirigible like the one they now rode, which was used to get in close to the ishihala trees to harvest the fruit, the mother ship being far too large and clumsy to manoeuvre among the branches of the titan growths.
Ulwara wound up her explanations: “The Imbazgans sent warriors in pursuit of me, deducing that my powers would be depleted to the point where I was helplessness. No men are born with a mind-eye and few women,” she said, again touching the organ on her brow. “Only a woman so born can become a priestess. We are very rare, and therefore valuable. That is why they were so intent on capturing me alive or, failing that, to kill me so my people would be denied the intercession to our gods I provide.”
Langdon sat quietly for a time digesting this information. He felt more in control of his emotions. The woman’s voice, almost hypnotic in its quality, had had a calming effect upon him. Ulwara hadn’t asked him about the details of his origins, and he sensed she would let him inform her in his own way and time. For the moment the Earthman had confined himself to telling her his name, for he felt it was he who was in greater need of information.
“What now?” he asked. “I suppose you wish to return to Ziumu. That’s fine by me as I have nowhere else to go.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “But not directly. The distance is great, and this craft too small to make the journey. Another airship of my people, the Quanawa was in the general area of the Isikebru. We must locate the vessel, and inform its captain of what has happened. I have information that is of vital importance to my nation.”
The decision made, Ulwara moved to the controls of the strange craft and began to guide the kainta – the superbly trained flying creatures that propelled their dirigible – in a westerly course by rotating the perches they clung to in that direction, and after several hours Langdon, who by now had told the woman of his origin, spotted something in the far distance.
“Over there,” he said, pointing to the northwest. “Could that be the Quanawa?”
“Possibly,” replied Ulwara as she changed course to intercept the object. “But we must approach with caution for it could also be the enemy.”
It was a tense moment as they drew near the object, which had resolved itself into the form of a huge airship. The gigantic envelope was at least eight hundred feet long and two hundred in diameter. Beneath the tapering cylinder of the living gasbag, hanging by a network of suspension cables, was the narrow oval gondola – four hundred feet in length and three decks deep.
Forty long poles stabilised with guy-wires attached to the web of netting about the envelope, projected out from the pale blue gondola, and served as supports for the smaller rotatable perches of the eighty kainta that propelled the giant vessel.
That it was an airship was beyond conjecture, but the question remained as to which nation it belonged. Ulwara worriedly scanned the craft as they closed the distance, her eyes fixed on a large symbol emblazoned upon its lengthy gondola.
Ulwara smiled, relaxed a little. “Look,” she said, pointing at the vessel’s bow where the airship’s long lance-like ram projected.
Langdon saw a yellow disc with black squiggly lines running diagonally through it, and beneath that an alien script whose cursive form reminded him of Pitman’s shorthand.
“The symbol on the bow is Ziumu’s emblem – the insignia of my nation and the name beneath it is the Quanawa. But even so we must be careful. I’m piloting an enemy dirigible. We will be challenged, and I must take care to ensure our approach does not provoke attack.”
Langdon spotted furious activity on the gondola as they slowly drew near. Two dirigibles similar to the one they rode took off from the broad weather deck of the vessel – the uppermost deck exposed to the elements - which was the Ziumuan equivalent of an aircraft carrier’s runway.
Ulwara and the Earthman tensely watched the approaching airships which had been sent to intercept them. Swiftly, they came within hailing distance. But before she could cry an identifying greeting the warriors in both dirigibles, which flew closely side by side, released a flight of bolts without the slightest warning.
Langdon grabbed the woman, pulled her to the deck. The hissing missiles flashed over them. Some struck the gondola, others punctured the envelope. Gas hissed out and Langdon experienced that sickening feeling of utter fear as their craft began to drop in terrifying descent.
As their craft dropped Ulwara acted swiftly. She grabbed the controls, spurred their kainta into rapid flight. The beasts beat their wings in whirling fury. They strained to the utmost as she sent her airship climbing, hurtling directly at the attacking dirigibles - a desperate, almost suicidal gambit.
Langdon’s knuckles whitened on the thwart. Ulwara was going to ram their assailants. Whose nerve would be the first to break – hers, or that of their opponents? Onboard the other vessels he saw the wide eyed warriors furiously cranking their crossbows to release another volley.
The weapons, although more accurate than a bow, were slow to load. The pilots lost their nerve as the dirigible came at them in a frightening rush. They jerked the controls of their kainta. The creatures screeched; the attacking craft veered off. Ulwara’s ship hurtled past, narrowly missing the starboard vessel. Several quarrels were fired at them, but fortunately went wide.
Langdon saw their kainta were nearly spent. Ulwara was steering their dirigible towards the landing deck of the giant airship, but buoyant gas was rapidly gushing from the punctured envelope, and now the flying beasts were straining under the increasing burden of their craft.
They drew near the landing deck. A flurry of martial activity was in evidence as the warriors prepared to repel them. Behind, the two airships closed the distance in rapid pursuit. The panting kainta began to falter. Their craft dropped. Grim faced, Ulwara spurred the flagging beasts. They painfully gained height, drew nearer, closer – twenty feet, ten. A bolt hissed up, slammed into the breast of a kainta. The beast dropped. The dirigible sank. Crossbow bolts from the pursuing ships hissed passed in a narrow miss
“Jump,” cried Ulwara.
Man and woman hurled themselves from the bow of the gondola as their vessel fell from under them and spun giddily to the ocean. It was a moment of knifing fear as they leapt the void. Beneath them was an immensity of empty air – a terrifying drop to the glittering ocean far below.
Langdon’s feet struck the deck. He stumbled. A scream made him turn. His heart seemed to miss a beat. Ulwara hung from the edge, her fingers slipping. He grabbed her, hauled the breathless woman to safety. The warriors rushed up, swords menacing, ready to slay. The two airships hovered, preparing to add their firepower to the fray.
“Stop,” cried Langdon. “This woman is Ulwara, priestess from the Isikebru.”
An officer recognised the woman, called off his warriors and approached. His eyes widened when they fell upon the Earthman and, in the face of the unknown, he raised his sword defensively as did many of the other warriors who, like their superior, eyed Langdon with wary suspicion.
Ulwara quickly spoke, forestalling any conflict: “The Imbazgans destroyed my ship. This man saved my life. Where I go he goes. Now, take us to the captain so I can inform him of events.”
The officer bowed, dismissed his warriors and then led the couple towards a starboard hatchway near the bow of the gondola. They descended via a ramp, traversed a gangway and soon came to the flight deck of the mother ship, where men stood before banks of levers that controlled the vessel’s motion.
Here, they were introduced to captain Bekuma – a hawk-faced man whom Langdon estimated to be about fifty by Earth standards. The captain was clearly shocked by the Earthman’s appearance, but when Ulwara vouched for him Bekuma accepted his presence without further comment, although it was clear he would have liked to ask numerous questions.
At Bekuma’s suggestion they retired to his cabin, which was located behind the bridge as were the rooms of the ship’s officers. They seated themselves on mats before a low table covered with charts and navigational instruments of alien design. An orderly brought refreshments – water and cubes of ishihala fruit which tasted like roast pumpkin to the Earthman, this being eaten to the accompaniment of a strange ritual of chanted prayers and anointing of the body with the juice of the viands, all of which Langdon found exceedingly strange. When the ceremony was over Ulwara began her account.
“The loss of the Isikebru is bad enough,” said Ulwara as she wound up her tale of the disaster “but the Imbazgans shouted gleefully at us as they attacked, boasting that another of their ships had raided Ziumu and carried off our gods. It may have merely been a ploy to demoralise us. However, I don’t think we can afford to assume that it was. We must return home at once.”
Captain Bekuma looked pale and grim as he spoke. “We, too, did battle with an Imbazgan airship, possibly the same one that assailed you, but managed to drive them off though at the cost of heavy casualties. I apologise for the attack upon you, but when I saw your vessel was that of the enemy I assumed the worst. It seems our foes have grown dangerously bold under Vezayu, the young and recently crowned uyazi, or priestess-queen as we would call her.”
“Then you’ll return at once?” asked Ulwara.
“We are low on supplies,” explained Bekuma, frustration and worry evident in his voice. “Unfortunately, there will be a delay as we gather ishihala fruit. We simply don’t have enough to feed the kainta on the long voyage home. The battle with the Imbazgans interfered with our harvesting operations.”
Ulwara stifled an oath. “I’ll defer to you in this matter, captain. But please hurry.”
Bekuma nodded and then turned to the Earthman. “We’re short on warriors. Can you use a crossbow with proficiency?”
Langdon, who had been raised on a farm, had been taught to shoot pests such as feral rabbits from an early age, and was considered a fair marksman by his peers.
“I’ve handled similar weapons,” he said. “I’m eager to help in any way I can.”
Bekuma gave him a doubtful look. “Well, I suppose we need all the assistance we can get,” he admitted after a moment. “Just make sure you hit what you’re aiming for and nothing else.”
The captain rose, signalling the meeting was over. The others got to their feet. Bekuma requested Ulwara meet with Quoumi, his ship’s priestess. With both praying it might double their luck, or so the captain hoped. Langdon was turned over to an officer with orders that the stranger be assigned to a harvesting crew, operations to recommence forthwith. Within about ten minutes the Earthman was aboard a small dirigible along with four other Ziumans heading towards one of the giant ishihala trees that was about a quarter mile from the mother-ship.
Langdon looked curiously about. Behind him in a line were three other airships, and beyond, in the far distance, was a weird igumo plant – the growths that were used as living gasbags for the dirigibles. This one, large but not yet fully grown, was still tethered to the ocean floor by the ropy stalk attached to its woody keel. From what Ulwara had told him he now knew that when mature the plant, which came in various sizes, would break free and take to the air.
Nutrients were obtained through the curtain of modified roots depending from the keel, which absorbed water and mineral bearing dust from the air. Photosynthesis occurred on the plant’s gasbag, or bladder, while the hydrogen that kept it aloft was manufactured from water by internal organs. The igumo produced hard-shelled pods that sank like stones when cast, the nuts germinating on the bottom of the shallow sea, whose average depth was about two hundred feet.
A hand on his shoulder made him turn around. It was Ukaw, the other crossbowman. “Be alert for wuwukari,” he warned. “We draw near the ishihala tree.
Langdon nodded and gave his full attention to the vast growth that loomed hugely before him. Harvesting the fruit was made hazardous by the menace of the wuwukari. One could never be sure if a tree was occupied by a colony of the vicious creatures, which would attack anything that came within a hundred foot radius of their pendulous teardrop shaped nests, which were woven from epiphytic vines.
The Earthman wished they had more bowmen aboard, but the size of the fruit meant there were severe weight restrictions, and so the harvesting dirigibles had to operate with minimal crew. The risks were great, but because of superstition these people felt they had to be taken. Although each island nation practised agriculture, a universal belief among the people of Umhara, based upon an ancient and elaborate mythology, was that the yearly consumption of ishihala fruit was necessary to sustain the soul rather than the body, and to go without the annual ritual meal was to imperil the immortality of the spirit.
Now above the ishihala, they were indeed about to risk their lives for the sake of superstition. Langdon anxiously gazed down at the vast warty branches, black and glossy, clad in their fluted crimson rod-like leaves, branches that radiated from the four hundred foot tall central trunk in the manner of a wagon wheel’s spokes.
The titanic limbs, which ramified considerably, were supported by curtains of prop-roots as thick as sequoias. Vast flowers bloomed in profusion. Numerous species of epiphytic growths clad the gigantic limbs in a profusion of pastel shades, and from the titan branches hung the huge fruits they sought – spiky orange spheres ten feet in diameter. Large flying things flittered among the mighty branches, their wings iridescent as opals, their melodious cries like the ringing of crystal bells. Langdon ignored the umuti; for he had been informed they were harmless creatures that would flee before their presence.
Their pilot brought the dirigible lower and the umuti fled away in a raucous, swirling cloud, their bell-like cries strident with alarm. One of the crew opened a hatch in the bottom of the gondola. The second man donned a harness connected by a rope to a winch, and his companion began to lower him towards one of the huge fruit bearing limbs of the monster tree that their vessel now hovered over.
Langdon watched him descend until he was beside one of the fruit. A second rope was lowered and tied about the stem. The slack was taken up and the harvester began to saw through the stalk. The stem parted and their craft sank dangerously under the weight of the ponderous fruit for a moment until the pilot quickly released water ballast.
A flash of motion, rising from beneath the massed branches drew Langdon’s gaze. He gasped in shock. A description of the wuwukari had been given to him, but to see a swarm of the hideous creatures in the flesh was another thing entirely, and for a moment he sat transfixed by the horror of what he gazed upon. The monsters scaly bodies broadly were similar to a greyhound, six feet in length and iridescent green, as were the membranous wings, their structure somewhat like a pterodactyl’s. The things narrow skulls and jaws were crocodilian in appearance. Their four legs were hawk-like and similarly taloned.
Langdon shook off his horror. “Wuwukari,” he cried in dire warning.
The creatures soared, screeching wild, challenging cries that rent the air like a volley of rifle shots. They circled about the vessel. The sky was filled with the sound of monstrous beating wings. The watching men were as tense as the crossbows they hurriedly spanned. The horrors whirled, black eyes glittering with malevolence as they spiralled inwards, nearer, closer. Suddenly, one of the monsters uttered a piercing cry, broke formation and darted for the dirigible. Langdon flung the crossbow to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.
The bolt leapt forth, pierced the creature’s side. It screamed a brassy death-cry as it fell, struck a minor branch, tumbled off and plunged to the ocean. Then the rest swept towards them screeching like horrors from Hell’s blackest pit. Ukaw, the other crossbowman, fired. A second monster fell, screaming shrilly as Langdon spanned his weapon frantically.
But there were too many and they were moving too swiftly – the colony was unusually large. The pilot turned their vessel. They fled away. A terrified cry drew the Earthman’s attention. A wuwukari was darting for the harvester being frantically hauled up to the airship. The man was wildly slashing at the looming monster with his crescent saw in a desperate bid to keep the horrid thing at bay.
Langdon reigned in his bolting fear. He shoved his crossbow through the hatch, took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. His quarrel struck a wing. The monster yowled, flapped away erratically. The Earthman heard the thrum of Ukaw’s weapon and another wuwukari tumbled from the sky.
The remaining monsters closed with the airship, swift as arrows and as deadly. They struck the dirigible’s envelope in massed fury. Their claws rent, their terrible jaws ripped in a flurry of wild destruction. The gasbag was torn asunder and with the sudden loss of buoyancy the craft plummeted like a stone, dragged down by the dangling fruit’s massive weight in a death-fall to the ocean far below.
As they tumbled the winch operator paused his reeling of the terrified harvester to wildly slash the rope from which the massive fruit dangled. Lightened, the remaining hydrogen in the partially inflated envelope slowed the airship’s fall as did the furiously beating wings of their frantic kainta, but even so they struck a branch with terrific force.
Langdon was thrown to the floor. The kaintas screamed shrilly. The dirigible slid sideways, pitched under the flapping of the panicking creatures which threatened to hurl them to their deaths. Quickly, the pilot jerked a lever and the chains that held the frightened beasts fell away. They fled. The gondola caught on a lateral branch and held precariously as the deflating gasbag settled next to it. But the danger was far from over. The remaining wuwukari still menacingly circled the stricken airship. They dived – four pursued the fleeing kaintas that sped away like rockets, others rushed the stricken vessel in a fury.
The Earthman glimpsed them hurtling at the helpless craft. Frantically, he shoved off the man who’d tumbled on him. Desperately, he wildly swung his sword in a whirl. The monsters veered away. The gondola slid alarmingly for a moment.
Langdon swore. One more sudden movement and the wreck would lose its shaky hold completely. Again, the three remaining monsters dived. Ukaw, who’d managed to retain his crossbow, fired. A wuwukari tumbled from the sky, but the others still came at them in a ferocious rush. There wasn’t time for a second shot, and the sweating Earthman knew when the creatures hit the poorly balanced gondola the force of impact would hurl them from the branch.
The men aboard bravely braced themselves for the horrid end as the monsters came at them like plunging dive-bombers. The things loomed. They cut the air like a living missiles, grotesque, horrid creatures of destruction. Langdon stared in frightened thrall. Thoughts tumbled through his mind – his childhood, friends; old lovers.
Then, when the creatures was almost upon them they screeched, wavered in their dive and plunged passed in a lifeless tumble, a spray of blood trailing from the quarrels in their sides. Langdon looked about in vast relief. He saw the other airships had arrived. One was descending towards the wreck, rescue lines dangling from its sides, and as he waited the weak kneed Earthman thanked the Fates that he was still alive.
**********
Ten days had passed since the attack of the wuwukari. The rest of the harvest had proceeded without further incident, the only brief pause in the operation being for the sea-burial of the man who’d been dangling from the rope beneath the gondola. Unfortunately, he’d struck a branch and had died a day later from head injuries.
Langdon now looked down from the Quanawa’s weather deck upon the crescent-shaped island of Ziumu. The heavily forested landmass was about four thousand square miles in extent and rose towards its northern end where Chanan, the capitol city and its surrounding terraced farmland and villages were situated. The Earthman could see that the metropolis had been built with defence in mind. It was strategically sited on high ground and reached by steep stone stairways and surrounded by massive stone walls.
The city, square in plan and covering about two thousand five hundred acres, was laid out in a grid pattern of cobbled streets and bisected by a broad avenue at whose eastern end was the council house and at the west the temple complex. The government of Ziumu was more of a democracy than a monarchy. A council of twelve ruled the island nation. Membership of the council, with the exception of criminals and others deemed to be of unsuitable temperament by common agreement was open to any adult, with new members of the assembly being chosen by lot rather than vote every three years. In addition there was a public forum held four times a year where citizens could express their grievances and put forth proposals to the government.
About the circumference of the city and within it was its air defence, which consisted of the equivalent of barrage balloons – smaller versions of the igumo affixed to cables which were raised or lowered by winch. These obstacles, which provided a hazard to attackers, forced enemy airships to higher altitudes and limited their movement, thereby decreasing the success of an assault.
The expansive airship landing field was located adjacent to the sea port below the metropolis. The six towers where the craft were docked thrust skyward like pointing fingers, and at their base were huge aviaries where each ship’s kainta roosted. Most city-states had no more than six of the huge cumbersome vessels, which were difficult to manufacture and maintain, and Ziumu was no exception to the rule. By contrast the nation’s maritime fleet, which consisted of sailing vessels reminiscent of Chinese junks, numbered in the hundreds.
As the Quanawa drew nearer the landing field Langdon, who leaned on the weather deck’s safety rail, could discern further details of the city’s architecture, which consisted primarily of terrace houses. These abodes were two stories in height. They were raised up on massive fifteen foot stone pillars resting on large granite platforms. The thatch-like roofs were towering and steeply pitched, reaching heights of fifty feet or more. Elaborately carved gables projected dramatically at both the front and rear, providing shade and shelter from heavy rains, and giving the buildings a hooded, towering appearance.
Underneath the large overhanging eaves were bowed balconies, which resembled a galleon’s stern. These balconies provided a defensive vantage point, and beneath them was a public colonnade linking each house, thereby allowing pedestrians to walk the full length of the terrace without setting foot on the street below. Built defensively, the colonnade was resistant to attack, being accessed by a small trap door above a narrow staircase that rose from the platform on which the terrace was built.
Langdon looked grim as he surveyed the scene. There was evidence of fighting in and around the temple complex. The primary temple, built on a massive stepped platform of granite, had been a square tower of nine tiers and multiple eaves that rose to a height of two hundred and fifty feet. But its gilded stonework was now blackened by fire, and part of the upper structure had collapsed under the bite of ravenous flames. The minor shrines surrounding the temple also showed evidence of damage by fire, some having been completely reduced to smouldering piles of ash and broken masonry.
The Earthman turned at Ulwara’s approach. Quoumi, the other priestess walked beside her. Both women were clearly disturbed by the sight of the ruined temple complex.
“So, it is true,” said Ulwara, her voice quivering as she gazed upon the damage with wide, horrified eyes.
“Our gods,” gasped Quoumi, who staggered and would have fallen had not Langdon swiftly steadied the younger woman.
“The damage is largely limited to the temple area,” observed Langdon in an attempt to console both priestesses. “I admit it is bad, but the rest of the city is mostly unscathed. You can always rebuild, and you still have the idols in your airships.”
“You don’t understand,” replied Ulwara angrily. “The idols we have aboard are simply conduits for the powers of the major gods. The minor idols can be hewn from common wood, but the temple idols must be carved from the rare and sacred timber of the lothal, and no other trees have been discovered in many generations. If the Imbazaga have stolen our temple idols then we are doomed. To whom shall we perform our rituals? Who shall aid us in times of trouble; ensure the success of the harvest and victory in war?”
Quoumi wailed. She pushed Langdon away and sank to the deck, overcome by grief. Ulwara joined her. Both began to brutally twist their nipples in an act of ritual self-harm that was expressive of an outpouring of violent emotion. They howled like demented banshees under the twin lashes of grief and self-inflicted pain.
The Earthman was shocked and revolted by the spectacle and sensing the women were inconsolable, turned away and gazed on the city with growing unease. If Ulwara’s and Quoumi’s reaction was typical of the rest of the population then the situation he was heading into would indeed be chaotic and disturbing.
**********
Langdon, worry gnawing him, swiftly made his way through the temple gardens towards the priestesses’ living quarters. A day had passed since his arrival on the island, and he now had a better understanding of the disaster that had befallen Ziumu.
Ulwara’s worst fears had proven true - the Imbazgans had indeed captured the city’s gods in a daring attack. A single freighter airship had come in broad daylight under the false insignia of Mokar, another city-state with whom Ziumu traded, and as the craft had passed over the temple complex on its way to the landing field, numerous warriors had dropped from the dirigible via parachute – an invention heretofore unknown in Ziumu, and one which circumvented the metropolis’s defences.
The two patrolling Ziumuan airships escorting the disguised invader had been completely taken by surprise. As the warriors dropped from concealed hatches on the underside of the gondola another secret weapon of the enemy, one currently possessed only by the raider, was revealed in all its swift and terrifying destructiveness. Concealed ballista ports sprang open. Powerful arbalests fired clay spheres at the Ziumuan dirigibles.
A dozen globes struck, shattered, splattering the defenders with a sticky viscous liquid that burst instantly into roaring flames upon contact with the air. In less than thirty seconds both Ziumuan airships were falling from the sky, their crumpling gasbags burning furiously, men tumbling from the tilted deck, screaming and clawing in mad futility at the air.
Below, alarm horns sounded stridently throughout the metropolis. Guardsmen pointed in fear and consternation as the burning airships struck terrace houses. Thatch-like roofs caught alight. Screaming citizens ran from the burning buildings in wild panic, only to be trapped and burnt alive beneath the flaming wreckage as it collapsed upon them.
City guards rushed madly from the walls towards the temple complex. Spheres from the attacking airship were hurled mercilessly upon them. The napalm-like chemical exploded in roaring fire. Men screamed in unbearable agony as they staggered about wreathed in biting flames, falling in charred and lifeless heaps. Other warriors burst through and engaged the invaders in fierce combat. Swords clashed. Men screamed, fell, blood gushing from cloven skulls and severed limbs.
As the melee raged two Ziumuan airships swiftly rose from the seaside landing field and engaged the attacking craft in fierce combat. In but moments a mighty battle madly swirled in the air and on the ground. The Ziumans fought valiantly. A broadside of hissing quarrels struck the enemy like a hailstorm. Men fell; kainta screeched and tumbled to hang limply from their chains while frantic aeronauts climbed aloft to seal punctures in the gasbag.
The defenders cheered. The tide of battle seemed to turn. Alas, such hope was quickly dashed – the Imbazgans hurled their frightful spheres before the closing Ziuman ships could employ their piercing rams, and in but moments the defending craft were flame wreathed wrecks tumbling from the sky.
On the ground more Ziuman reinforcements madly rushed to aid their hard pressed comrades at the temple complex. Deadly globes of liquid fire rained upon them. The spheres exploded to form a wall of leaping fire. Heat and smoke and raging flames drove the few survivors back in utter rout.
Barrage balloons exploded as they were struck by the deadly spheres. The way cleared, the mighty Imbazgan airship descended as the last Ziuman warrior at the temple fell. Ropes were dropped from the raider’s sides, and the enemy swarmed swiftly up the lines as the looted gods were hauled aloft in a net. Then the attackers departed leaving behind a city in wild tumult, the populace too busy battling the raging fires to think about giving chase to the enemy.
The Earthman brought his mind to the present as he swiftly mounted the stairs that led to the priestess’s hall of residence. Normally, no man would have been allowed anywhere near the long colonnaded building. That he had gotten this far unchallenged was evidence of the dysfunctional state of the city. When the theft of their gods had become widely known the devastating knowledge had utterly demoralised the population.
Langdon had just come from the council building and it was clear to him that Ziumu’s government had ceased to function. The people, both officials and commoners, wandered about in a state of shock, and the shaken Earthman had seen several leap from the city wall to their death. If something wasn’t done soon he feared he’d witness many more suicides, Ulwara included.
Clearly depressed, she’d slipped away from him earlier in the day and he’d been frantically searching for her ever since, his worry growing by the hour. Fortunately, he’d managed to get some sense out of an official at the council building, who had given him directions to the priestess’s abode.
Quickly, the Earthman crossed the threshold of the building only to stop in horror. The body of a priestess lay before him. Trembling, he turned the corpse over, fearing the worst. The woman, not Ulwara, had stabbed herself through the heart. Langdon wasn’t relieved. Ever since they’d landed he’d been worried about Ulwara’s state of mind, and now he was absolutely frantic.
Fear spurred him. He raced through the building in a frenzied search, sped by an arch and skidded to a halt as he glimpsed the scene in the courtyard beyond. Through the opening he saw the gathered priestesses. Each held a silver goblet from whose rim spilled a greenish vapour. Langdon saw Ulwara among the group, saw her raise the chalice to her lips as did the others in preparation to drink what could only be a deadly poison.
With a cry of wild terror he dashed forward in a desperate bid to stop Ulwara, but the distance was too great and he knew to his horror he’d never reach her side in time.
As Langdon raced towards Ulwara he drew his dagger, cast it with all his might and desperation. The flying blade struck the goblet with a strident clang and dashed it from her hand. The priestess gasped in shock, cried again as the sprinting Earthman crashed against the woman and swept her off her feet in a strong and pinning hold.
“Stop,” he shouted wildly to the rest as he stumbled to a halt. “This is not the answer to your dire situation.”
The other priestesses, six in all, stood transfixed in astonishment, the deadly goblets half raised to their lips. Langdon’s mind raced like a grand prix Ferrari. He realised in a flash that he couldn’t dissuade the women from self-destruction using reason. Rather, he must speak the language of religion that they understood.
“Suicide is not the answer,” he again repeated. “Your gods are testing you,” he swiftly improvised. “Destroy yourselves and you will prove unworthy worshippers.”
The priestesses looked at Langdon. Ulwara stopped her struggles. Hope rose in the desperate Earthman. Despair had driven them to kill themselves. If he offered them succour, if he was convincing, then he could save them from self harm. What he was about to say was an utter lie, but he felt desperate circumstances justified deception.
“Ulwara,” he said, speaking to the woman. “I’ve told you of my origins. Do you think my arrival on your world was mere accident? No, the gods arranged that I should come. They foresaw their theft, and brought me here so that I with your help can rescue them. Have faith in your deities and they will not abandon you.”
The woman settled further as she thought about his words. Despair and religious dependency had driven her to extremities out of which suicide seemed the only way. But even so Ulwara was young, vibrant. She grasped the chance at hope, at life.
“What would you have us do?” she asked with expectant eagerness.
“You and your priestesses must spread my words throughout the city,” he replied. “Then we must convene a forum and carefully plan the rescue of your gods.”
**********
The sun had settled into the bed of night. The fishing boat, her camouflaged hull and sails as black as pitch, carefully made its way towards a small inlet on the Imbazgan coast, now delineated in the greenish light of Ku, Umhara’s solitary satellite. Langdon stood in the bow, gazing intently at the looming shore, the night-dark jungle emerald tinged by the weird moonlight.
From the shore the land rose steeply to a central peak on whose precipitous slope the city of the enemy clung – a huddle of towers and spires, pewter hued stone that thrust into the night sky, its ancient domes gleaming softly in the pale radiance of heaven.
Langdon turned to the sailor beside him, his green skin marking him as a native of Imbazga. “Irumi,” he said quietly. “Can you be sure this is the place?”
The old man nodded. “Though I fled Imbazga many years ago my memory and eyesight remain undimmed by age. We enter this cove, and in the cliffs nearby is the secret entrance to the city through which I escaped the brutality of slavery in my youth. The tunnels are thick with dust, truly ancient. I doubt whether any living Imbazgan knows of their existence. It was by sheer chance that I discovered them.”
Langdon fervently hoped that this remained so. The desperate adventure he’d set them on – into the lion’s den, virtually - was the best scheme he’d been able to devise. It had been a stroke of good fortune that Irumi, now a loyal citizen of Ziumu, had come forward at the forum, and the worried Earthman prayed their luck would hold. The plan, based heavily upon Irumi’s knowledge, was simple – they’d come in under the enemy’s radar (metaphorically speaking) by surface vessel carrying a small raiding party that would penetrate the Imbazgan’s stronghold and rescue the stolen gods.
The Earthman was relying to a large degree on the element of surprise as a full scale assault was out of the question considering the losses inflicted upon the Ziumuan air-fleet – the only practicable means of attacking the eyrie-like city. It was a high risk venture that could easily end in disaster, and this knowledge weighed heavily upon Langdon. He’d never wanted the weighty responsibility of leadership, but the situation had forced it upon him. The Ziumuans now saw him as the champion of their gods, and for their sake he hoped he’d be able to live up to their expectations. Putting aside his doubts he spoke to Ulwara who stood on his other side.
“Do you perceive any danger?” he asked.
The priestess closed her eyes. The vulviform structure in the centre of her brow opened, and the sapphire sphere pulsed sinisterly beneath the organ’s parted lips. Slowly, she turned her head from side to side, scanning with her mind-eye the dark shore they were rapidly approaching under the impetus of the strong night wind.
After about a minute and much to Langdon’s relief the organ closed, for even now he still found it somewhat unnerving, even though he considered the woman his friend. Ulwara opened her eyes and spoke.
“I sense no danger at the moment, but we are yet some distance from the shore, and my mind-eye has limited range. I shall scan again when we are upon the beach.”
Shortly, the sailing craft glided into the bay. The lateen sails were carefully furled and the anchor silently let down. Then shadowy figures quietly slipped over the side, entered the water. Swiftly following, lowered by a skeleton crew, was a small raft loaded with equipment and weapons. Swimmers grabbed the ropes and towed it to the shore with powerful strokes. Furtively, the six invaders emerged from the rolling surf carrying the raft and crept within the concealing jungle. Here, they paused tensely to don their weapons and equipment while Ulwara scanned the crowding vegetation for signs of danger.
“Nothing,” softly replied the woman to Langdon’s edgy and enquiring gaze.
The Earthman turned to Irumi. “Lead on,” he quietly commanded.
The party groped their way through the stygian jungle, forcing aside its tangled growth. Men suppressed curses as they stumbled on roots, were slapped by leaves and branches. Soon, although it seemed an age of struggle, they were beside the towering vine curtained cliff, and within another minute of intense searching Irumi found the door to the entrance of the tunnels. With a soft mutter of satisfaction, he grinningly parted a dense veil of lianas to disclose the heavy stone slab. Men thrust against the portal, muscles bulging with the strain and the door slowly grated open to reveal a dark and narrow way.
Again Ulwara used her mind-eye to probe the black entrance that gaped before them. Finding no hidden threats the party entered. In the utter darkness of the concealed way Langdon fumbled at his belt and unsheathed the light-rod, confident that its radiance would not be seen through the stone slab that had closed behind them. The phosphorescent glow of the luminous wood pushed back the darkness and disclosed the rough hewn walls of the rocky tunnel. In silence they moved down its grimy length, their quiet tread stirring the dust of millennia.
After about two hundred feet the tunnel slanted steeply upwards and the party commenced an arduous ascent that lasted the best part of an hour. Gaining its height they paused to rest at its terminus where the way levelled off. Langdon, breathing heavily from the long climb and stale air raised his light-rod, and by its mellow illumination saw the corridor stretching out before him with several side branches leading off here and there.
“Which way?” asked Langdon of Irumi.
The old sailor leaned heavily against Ulwara, panting like a spent hound, his age and the exertions of the climb weighing heavily upon him.
“We keep to the main way for about four hundred paces ... and then take a right hand tunnel... This leads to the temple which I discovered by accident ... as I searched this maze of passageways for an exit.” He grinned with wry humour as he paused again to catch his breath. “I nearly died in here... It seems the gods would have me repeat the experience.”
One of the three warriors who crowded behind him laughed softly. After a moment they moved on and shortly came upon the branching way. Passing down its length the party climbed a flight of stairs and halted before the seemingly blank wall at its landing. Irumi stepped forward and peered through a spy-hole, then invited Langdon to look into the tiny aperture.
The Earthman gazed within the chamber beyond. The square room was the inner sanctum of the temple. By the light of globular oil lamps hanging from wall brackets Langdon discerned a large circular alcove, which was divided by a grid of stonework, and in each granite recess thus formed was the foot high image of an outlandish god.
Langdon looked on amazed. On Earth gods mimic the human form, which is to be expected as they are the creations of mortal minds. But on this world of Umhara things were radically different. None of the images he gazed at were remotely anthropomorphic. One deity in particular caught his eye as representative of the rest in terms of its surreal quality.
The idol, whose sacred lothal wood glowed in the brassy lamplight with a mother-of-pearl sheen, had a cubical base irregularly studded with smaller cubes. From this base rose tightly wound convex whorls that formed a high conical spiral with sharp vertical ribs, and from the apex of the cone, which swelled to form a lobed sphere, projected four spiralling horn-like structures, one from each bulging quadrant of the globe, their swirls tighter at the base and straightening out towards the tips that terminated in concentric discs.
Ulwara’s voice jarred Langdon from his mesmerised stare.
“Is the temple’s inner sanctum unoccupied? My mind-eye cannot penetrate the stone. If the way is clear then let us enter, for I am eager to reclaim our stolen gods,” she ended with ardent enthusiasm.
The door swung open under the thrust of Langdon’s brawny frame and the raiding party stepped within the sacred chamber. The wavering lamplight made shadows dance in the eerie quiet of the room, and with stealthy steps and wary eyes they approached the alcove with its gleaming and outlandish icons.
“Kuzothu,” breathed Ulwara excitedly as she pointed at a helical idol of swirling rods and spheres that rose up from a crescent bowl supported on a pyramid of rings. Then, turning to a warrior: “Zarna,” she continued eagerly, “into the sack with our chief god, and then the rest. Hurry!”
A violent cry of outrage froze Zarna as he reached for the gleaming image.
Langdon spun round as did the rest, swords rasping free in readiness for combat. A door had opened at the further end of the chamber. On the portal’s threshold stood a glowering emerald hued woman – Vezayu the uyazi, the priestess-queen of Imbazga’s domineering theocracy come to perform an arcane midnight ritual.
“Invaders, desecrators, thieves” Vezayu violently exclaimed. Then, turning to the six warriors that stood behind her - a ceremonial bodyguard who were largely just for show: “Kill them, she cried with wild passion. “Slay them all as punishment for this vile outrage.”
With savage yells of wild eagerness Vezayu’s warriors, keen to prove their worth, madly charged the foe. Like a pack of slavering wolves they fell upon the raiding party in a rush. The clash of swords, the shouts of violent imprecations tore apart the silence as the chamber exploded into a savage melee of unrestrained combat.
Langdon parried a wild thrust. His foe pounced upon him with all the fierceness of a springing lion. They came together in a wild clinch, wrestling madly, too close to employ their deadly blades. The Earthman’s wiry foe hurled him to the floor. The pain of impact made Langdon lose his grip upon the sword. The weapon slid away and the madly grinning warrior plunged his blade at the gasping Earthman’s unprotected breast.
As the sword plunged Langdon pulled his stunned wits together. Desperately, he rolled. The stabbing blade sparked on stone. The Earthman booted his opponent in the shin. The warrior howled, tumbled to the floor. Langdon leapt to his feet, kicked the fellow in the head as he strove to rise.
Another enemy came at the Earthman in a savage rush. He leapt aside and tripped the man with a sweeping foot. The warrior tumbled and in the brief respite Langdon swiftly retrieved his sword. But there was little time for rest - the fellow he’d felled nimbly rolled and was on his feet in an instant, again coming at him with wild violence.
Langdon ducked a decapitating slash, struck out with his blade. The warrior screamed as steel hard crystal sliced through flesh and ribs. The Earthman leapt clear as his foe fell and writhed upon the floor, moaning incoherently.
Briefly, Langdon found himself in the eye of the maelstrom. About him swirled leaping shouting figures that thrust and slashed with murderous abandon. Through the mad chaos of the fighters, who spun around each other like demented dervishes, he glimpsed Ulwara and Vezayu begin their weird and deadly duel.
The body of each woman was cloaked in a defensive aura. Their mind-eyes were open, and from the pulsing organs shot forth jagged silvery bolts that struck each priestess’s shield in a brilliant coruscation of hissing sparks. Both women staggered drunkenly under the fierce blows of the other, and the worried Earthman could see this unnerving combat would be a brutal battle of attrition.
A tremendous bolt infused with all the power of Vezayu struck Ulwara. She groaned, stumbled. Her protective aura faded as she clutched her head and sank upon her knees. Vezayu laughed in dark triumph though her own powers were nearly spent from the frightful discharge. Langdon cursed, dashed to aid his comrade who had slumped upon the floor. A snarling foeman leapt to intercept the charging Earthman. He cut the warrior down with a savage lunge, plunged passed furiously.
Vezayu saw the wild Earthman rushing at her. A bolt of weakened force leapt forth and struck the racing man. Langdon gasped in agony. He stumbled, but the momentum of his maddened charge carried him forward and his brawny frame crashed violently against her. Both fell heavily to the floor. The uyazi gasped in pain. Her protective aura flickered, died as her powers were exhausted. Langdon overcame his agony. He flung an arm about Vezayu’s neck and stilled her wild struggles with a choking stranglehold.
“Enough,” he snarled as he eased the pressure so she could speak, not really wishing to hurt her badly if he could avoid it. “Call off your men and I’ll let you live.”
The uyazi’s full breasts heaved with violent passion. For the moment her mental powers were spent but not so the steely muscles that writhed with astounding strength beneath the Junoesque curves of her voluptuous figure. As Langdon wrestled with Vezayu, his legs scissoring her body, he quickly realised her soft appearance was entirely illusionary, a fact reinforced by the gush of wild imprecations that burst forth from her sultry lips like bullets from a Thompson submachine gun.
“Let me go,” she wildly panted when her insults had run their course. “Let me go or it will be your slut who dies.”
Langdon turned his head and sickening fear came upon him like a pouncing carnivore. The struggle with Vezayu had been brief, but in those short seconds the tide of battle had turned against the Earthman and his allies. Their hacked and lifeless bodies lay strewn across the floor. Only Ulwara remained alive, but for how much longer was the dreadful question - one warrior pinned her helpless to the floor while another pressed a blade against her throat.
“If she is injured in any way you will surely die,” warned Langdon who hid his fear with a facade of bravado. “Let us go unharmed with the gods you stole and I will spare your life in return.”
But Vezayu was having none of this. “Do you take me for a fool?” she bravely sneered. “You will make any promise to save yourselves, and with your freedom I will become a hostage and the plaything of revenge. No, better I die here and now than suffer prolonged degradation at the hands of debased enemies.”
Langdon cursed inwardly. It was a stalemate out of which he couldn’t see a way. Vezayu didn’t trust him, and he sensed the woman’s guiding principle was to do to her foes what she thought they were going to do to her. If the Earthman surrendered he had no doubt they would become the victims of the priestess-queen’s terrible reprisals.
Ulwara spoke, interrupting Langdon’s racing thoughts. “Why not let divinity decide our fate,” she boldly said. “Blake Langdon, the man who holds you helpless is the champion of our gods, brought to our world from another as their warrior. Let your gods choose a fighter from among you. Both champions can then do battle, and if we win the prize will be our freedom and the idols that you stole from us.”
Vezayu laughed contemptuously. “Your gods couldn’t defend your city from my attack, nor ensure the success of what is obviously a rescue mission. This is a most pathetic gambit.”
“In that case,” replied Ulwara calmly, “if you are so confident of victory then you should have no hesitation in accepting the challenge, or could your evasiveness be a sign you fear defeat – that our gods are in fact more powerful than your own?”
“I fear nothing,” cried Vezayu, furiously, nettled to incaution as Ulwara had hoped. “I accept your challenge and look forward to seeing both of you grovel in the dust at my feet. Release me, you ill bred oaf,” she snarled at Langdon. “I give you my word neither you nor your slut will be harmed. Your fate will be decided in the coming battle.”
Langdon was doubtful. He looked at Ulwara, questioningly.
“She has given her word, and I sense she will keep it,” confirmed his companion.
The Earthman let go and Vezayu sprang from his grip like a cat from a cold bath. She looked at him wildly, her full breasts heaving with rage and for a moment he thought the uyazi would forget her promise and spring upon him like a savage lioness. No man had ever laid hands upon her, had dared to profane her sacred person with his base touch. Savage emotions bordering on madness raged within her heart, inflaming her wild, dangerous passions and leaving her incapable of speech. But then Vezayu, to her credit, uncharacteristically managed to control her storming tumult.
Langdon for his part returned her burning stare with a steady gaze as he got slowly to his feet and for the first time saw how young she was – probably no more than twenty, but possessed of a rich, heavy beauty like the opulence of an exotic flower from the depths of an unexplored jungle. Strangely, despite the hatred he read plainly on her face, the Earthman felt an attraction whose strength was undeniable, despite his efforts to resist it.
Vezayu sensed it, too. She gasped. It was just too much that this ... this creature desired her. She slapped him with such force that he staggered from the savage blow. Her bodyguards tensed. Death was very near. With an effort Vezayu reigned in her bolting emotions and stilled the death order hovering on her lips.
“Confine the prisoners in the guest room of the palace,” she commanded her warriors. “The woman is a priestess and so deserves some decorum despite being an enemy. Do not harm them unless they try and escape. I go now to summon the council. The divine duel will commence at noon tomorrow.”
Vezayu strode from the room, her back rigid with barely suppressed fury. The warriors took charge of the prisoners and led them from the inner sanctum of the temple. As they crossed the threshold Ulwara turned to Langdon who rubbed his bruised cheek, which still stung badly from the brutal blow. The dire situation they were in was reflected plainly in his bleak expression. Their companions were all dead; they were now captives of a ruthless, volatile woman who desired their demise, and despite her word would no doubt contrive a means of having her revenge.
“Courage,” said Ulwara. “I have truly come to believe you are the champion of our gods. I wouldn’t have made the challenge if in doubt.”
Langdon gave her a weak smile. The Earthman was an agnostic. Whether a god or gods existed was something he felt was beyond his ability to know, and if they did exist whether they intervened in the affairs of mortals was questionable given the nature of reality. All he could do was strive to do his best, and hope that her faith in him was not misplaced.
**********
The noon sun blazed down upon Langdon. The Earthman stood in the middle of the temple-palace’s primary courtyard readying himself for the momentous duel. To his left were the priestess-queen’s councillors who had come to witness the event, and to his right were the skeleton crew of seven who had been brought up from the Ziumuan sailing craft to the lofty citadel by a precipitous route, and would act as observers for their nation.
Standing on a pedestal at the far end of the courtyard was the idol of Chaxkan, chief god of the Imbazgans – a fretwork disc mounted vertically on the apex of a fluted cone with other fretwork discs interpenetrating it. Vezayu knelt before the image of the god, hands upraised in chanting prayer to her deity. Langdon, too worried at the moment to appreciate her beauty, which could be glimpsed through the diaphanous garment that she wore, knew that behind him Ulwara was similarly occupied in entreaty to her god, Kuzothu.
What the Earthman didn’t know was the nature of his opponent. So far the Champion of Chaxkan hadn’t put in an appearance. Langdon suspected Vezayu was trying to unnerve him by keeping him in suspense, and to himself he grudgingly admitted it was working.
Vezayu voiced an ecstatic cry in conclusion to her prayer. She rose gracefully, clapped her hands. Langdon tensed as a man strode forth from the shadows of the pillared courtyard. The Champion of Chaxkan was a giant. The warrior was several inches short of seven feet. Muscles bulged upon muscles. He raised his massive double handed mace as if it was a feather duster in salute to the idol of his god.
Langdon looked grimly at his opponent. The only rule was that both duellists would be identically armed. The Earthman was no weakling but his lobed mace of itswon – the amber crystal the Umharans used in lieu of iron - must have weighed in excess of twenty pounds, and in his hands he now felt every ounce of it. Vezayu no doubt thought her gods superior, but even so wasn’t taking any chances.
The hulking brute turned, swaggered towards his smaller foe and halted at a line drawn on the cobbles twenty feet from the one his opponent stood upon. His scarred and ugly visage, which showed the marks of many battles, sneered contemptuously at the tensely waiting Earthman. Silence fell upon the watching throng like a heavy weight. The Ziumuan mariners suppressed their groans of consternation; the Imbazgans grinned broadly in sure anticipation of a swift and easy victory.
Iskosi, Vezayu’s chief councillor – lean, cold eyed and of vulpine countenance raised his hand dramatically. A gong rang out – once ... twice ... thrice. With a wild bellow the giant rushed at Langdon like a charging bull, his mace swinging in a savage blow, and in an instant the Earthman was fighting for his life against his oversize opponent.
As the roaring giant rushed at Langdon the Earthman quickly realised the fellow relied heavily on his massive size and strength to overcome opponents. Aware that only strategy could save him Langdon held fast to his courage and tensely waited as the warrior loomed, huge and terrible, his face wild with berserker fury.
The giant swung his mace with a wild yell. The terrific blow whipped down on Langdon’s head in an unstoppable rush. At the last possible moment the Earthman leapt aside. The plunging weapon grazed his arm and smashed against the courtyard’s flagging sending shattered stone flying in a spray of whizzing shards.
Langdon, his mace’s head held close to his body, for it was too heavy for him to swing effectively, thrust the weapon’s long haft like a stabbing bayonet and slammed its butt against the giant’s ribs. The warrior bellowed in pain and rage, swung a wild counterstroke. The Earthman dodged, but wasn’t quite fast enough – the savage swing caught him a glancing blow upon the arm and sent him sprawling to the ground.
The Ziumuan mariners groaned in consternation. Ulwara cried in fear. Vezayu leaned forward eagerly in anticipation as her champion swung again at the prostrate Earthman. Langdon rolled. Stone shattered as the giant’s mace hammered the paving. The desperate Earthman kicked his raging opponent in the shin. The warrior howled, stumbled back, but didn’t fall. Langdon managed to get to his feet. His left arm was completely numb from the glancing blow. To wield the heavy mace one handed was impossible.
Fury was etched on the giant’s ugly visage as he stumblingly regained his balance. That his puny opponent had injured him was humiliating beyond all measure. Shrugging off the pain Langdon’s towering antagonist came at him in a vengeful rush, overconfident at seeing him unarmed. The enraged brute swung his mace like a baseball bat in an effort to crush the bothersome insect that had hurt him.
Langdon dropped to a squat. The mace whipped above his head. The Earthman lunged at his opponent, his powerful muscles uncoiling like a spring as he slammed a straight right into his foeman’s groin. The giant howled, fell sideways like a poleaxed steer. Langdon staggered up then jumped on his groaning opponent as he tried to rise. The Earthman’s heels crashed down upon the fellow’s bull neck. Vertebrae snapped like dry twigs; his monstrous foe collapsed upon the ground and lay still in death’s finality.
The Earthman stumbled off the corpse as wild victory yells exploded from the Ziumuan mariners. Vezayu looked on with a sinking feeling of utter disbelief as her fellow countrymen uttered cries of absolute consternation, but not so Iskosi, chief councillor of Imbazga. A gleeful expression, as if he’d been awaiting this moment with anticipation, came upon his vulpine countenance as from a startled servant he grabbed the hammer of the gong and struck its brassy disc a mighty ringing blow.
At his signal concealed warriors poured forth from archways about the pillared courtyard and swiftly surrounded the shocked occupants, menacing friend and foe alike with glittering weapons. Vezayu turned to Iskosi, outrage replacing her initial consternation.
“Uncle, what is the meaning of this?” she hotly cried, ignoring the threatening ring of blades about her.
Iskosi gave her a predatory smile as cries of wild alarm came from distant corners of the temple-palace, indicating similar scenes of treachery were being enacted at every quarter.
“I knew one day your foolishness would be your downfall, and I have prepared long and well for this moment,” he calmly explained. “You have been blind to the growing discontent with your rule among your councillors. Your wilfulness and arrogance have brought us to disaster with this dual that you so foolishly accepted.
“You rejected my wise council to have these invaders put to death quietly, and that is just one example of your dangerous wilfulness. What will other nations think when they learn of the humiliating defeat of our gods? Why, they will think we’re weak, and become emboldened and attack us. No Vezayu, what is needed is a ruler of intelligence and even temperament rather than an erratic child whose whims imperil all of us.”
Vezayu bristled dangerously. “And naturally you see yourself as imbued with the qualities of leadership,” she waspishly replied. “I think your pretty speech is nothing more than self-justification. You desire power, uncle, and your noble words are merely an attempt to clothe naked ambition in patriotic finery. You would have made your move even if our champion had won.”
Iskosi laughed. “Be this as it may. But no one can deny I’m more experienced than you, and more emotionally stable. Under your late mother, Uyazi Owese, I was practically ruler of the nation, with her approving most of my suggestions. But have no fear for yourself,” he continued, stepping towards Vezayu with lustful eagerness. “There is a place for you at my side ... as my wife.”
Vezayu recoiled in revulsion. Shock was writ large upon her features at this perverse suggestion; then her mood quickly changed to one of violent outrage that swiftly lent itself to brutal uncontrolled expression – she struck Iskosi with her fist, the blow staggering him with the force of its savage fury.
Guards caught the stumbling chief councillor, supported him as he shakily wiped the blood from his bruised lips. Iskosi glared at Vezayu, his rage rendering him speechless for a moment as he panted in utter fury at her rejection. Slowly, cold and calculating revenge supplemented Iskosi’s burning anger and he smiled a cruel and ruthless smile.
“Very well,” he said slowly. “If that is your answer then this is my reply, which I prepared in advance to subdue you and your priestesses. Guards,” he called, “Bring forth the devices. Place one on Vezayu and the other on the Ziumuan woman.”
A warrior stepped forward with an instrument resembling a wide silver headband with a small dome in its centre. Other men grabbed Vezayu. She cursed, struggled in the arms of her captors as a nervous guard approached her with the device. A bolt leapt from her mind-eye, but it harmlessly fizzled out as she had not recovered from her battle with Ulwara, who was similarly debilitated.
In an instant another warrior pressed his blade against Vezau’s throat. Its bite stilled the frantic woman, but her crazed and dangerous look remained. The device was placed upon her brow, the dome fitting over her mind-eye and the metal band tightened in the manner of handcuffs.
Iskosi smiled cruelly. “The powers of you mind-eye cannot penetrate the metal. You are helpless Vezayu. My co-conspirators are now in control of the temple-palace. Your other councillors will do my bidding as they are accustomed to. Your priestesses have been subdued, and from the slavish commoners you can expect no aid as they do not care who rules them.
“You reject me, so I reject you,” he continued with the rage of injured pride coming to the fore as he grasped her garment and tore it from her in a fury. “You’ll share the dungeons with the Ziumuan prisoners and serve as ... their entertainment, shall we say? Ho, guards,” he cried. “Take them from my sight.”
The warriors closed in upon the captives, herding them with menacing blades towards the courtyard’s exit. Langdon and Ulwara were in the lead with the seven Ziumuan mariners behind them. A guard shoved Vezayu towards them as they passed. The woman stumbled and the Earthman caught her before she fell.
“It’s all right,” he reassured her. “Neither I nor my men shall harm you in any way.”
Vezayu, her mood as changeable as the wind, drew away from him, covering her breasts and loins with her hands to try and hide her humiliation. Ashamed, she turned her face from the worried Earthman, and in silence they continued on towards the dungeons.
**********
Langdon, now completely naked as were his companions, grasped the cell bars, his hands clenching on them in frustration and worry as his eyes roamed the confines of the dungeon. Their subterranean prison was a square chamber whose three stone walls were approximately thirty feet in length with the forth a bronze latticework of rods that ran from floor to low ceiling.
Two guards were stationed beyond the bars, illuminated by a solitary oil lamp hanging above their heads. The warriors sat at a table absorbed in a board game whose exact nature the anxious Earthman had no inclination to determine. What was uppermost in his mind was escape, but this seemed impossible for the latticework of bars was impressively strong as was the lock upon the door of their prison.
With a muttered oath Langdon turned from the bars. He felt like a caged animal. They’d been in the dungeons for only an hour, but already it seemed like an eternity. The remaining crew were huddled in a corner, talking in low tones. Occasionally, one would glance at Vezayu. The woman sat against the opposite wall, knees drawn up to her breasts and head buried in her folded arms.
He had sought to comfort her, feeling strangely sorry for her, for she had fallen far. It was difficult to believe that she was as dangerous and as mentally unstable as Iskosi had implied. But when he’d approached the wild look she’d given him, like that of a cornered beast in its ferocious intensity, was completely at odds with her earlier appearance of vulnerability. It made him back away, and should have warned him that the usurper’s claims were not exaggerated. But he was blinded by her beauty and rationalised her reaction - no doubt she thought he meant her harm despite his earlier promise of chivalrous conduct.
Langdon wasn’t a brute and he didn’t like the way the other men were looking at her. Imprisonment had rocked their confidence in him as Champion of the Gods. For the moment they were obeying his orders and leaving Vezayu alone, but the situation was explosive – men facing death and locked in a cell with an attractive naked woman who was also their enemy... well, they’d take what vengeful pleasure they could before the end, and the worried Earthman was unsure if he could stop them.
Ulwara’s approach broke this bleak train of thought. “Have you managed to look at the lock?” she asked in a whisper.
“As much as I can without attracting the attention of the guards.” He replied softly. “If I had a piece of wire I could try picking it under the cover of night, but we were stripped of everything when they searched us. If only ...”
A woman’s scream sharply cut off his words. Langdon swiftly turned and cursed. His worst fears had come to pass – the mariners had rushed Vezayu and fallen on her like a pack of beasts in heat. The Earthman raced towards the struggling, screaming woman. He grabbed one sailor by the hair, dragged him off and stomped upon his head; rabbit punched another and sent him crashing to the floor. But the rest swiftly turned upon him with unrestrained ferocity, and in an instant the cell became a brawling battlefield.
“Traitor,” cried one wild eyed mariner. “You defend the woman who’d have killed us all!”
Langdon’s reply was a fist to the jaw that sent the fellow sprawling. Three more enraged sailors leapt at him, punches windmilling wildly. Ulwara tackled one and brought him to the ground as the Earthman fell back before the fury of the others. Pressed against the bars were the guards, their game abandoned to enjoy the savage spectacle. The laughing brutes yelled ribald crudities of base encouragement as cursing sailors wrestled with the women.
Both women struggled madly with their foes. The fight had roused the sailor’s baser passions which swept aside the remaining shreds of decency. Ulwara cried in fear as she was groped. Vezayu screamed again as her thighs were forced apart.
The desperate Earthman’s back was pressed against the bars. Blows rained furiously upon him, smashing against his raised arms. In but moments he knew the wild punches would pierce his guard and send him crashing senseless to the ground. The guards moved closer to better see the rapists at their evil work – wicked deeds that in mere seconds Langdon would be unable to prevent.
The women’s wild screams spurred Langdon to utter desperation. The Earthman made a risky move that left him vulnerable. Swiftly dropping to a knee he grabbed the ankle of each assailant. One foeman tried to knee him in the face, but the Earthman was the swifter of the two. With a mighty heave he jerked the brawler’s legs, sent them crashing to the floor and had the pleasure of seeing heads crack hard against the stone.
Langdon swung his wild gaze towards the women. Ulwara had punched her would-be rapist in the throat. The man lay hors de combat on the floor. Vezayu had bitten her assailant where it hurt the most, giving him other things to think about as he lay moaning on the stones.
Seeing his companions had the upper hand the Earthman rushed the guards who were several feet away. Both warriors, engrossed in the wild spectacle, were taken by surprise as Langdon thrust his hands through the lattice and grabbed them by the nape. The Earthman jerked with utter savagery, slammed their heads against hard bronze.
One guard collapsed unconscious, the other fumbled for his dagger. Langdon slammed his skull a second time and sent him crashing senseless to the floor. Breathing hard, but realizing there wasn’t time to rest, the Earthman reached through the lattice and grabbed the dagger of his erstwhile foe. He then stumbled to the door and with the narrow blade began to pick its massive lock in earnest.
Ulwara joined him, but remained silent as he concentrated intensely on the task. Sweat was upon Langdon’s brow. One guard lay moaning upon the floor and might recover at any moment. He had to get them out of here and fast. He breathed deeply to calm his nerves as his fingers fumbled with the mechanism. His hands steadied. There was a click, and the relieved Earthman thrust wide the heavy door. But at that very moment the moaning guard struggled to his knees and began to draw his sword. The Earthman dashed at his recovering foe. The warrior screamed a wild cry for help as Langdon kicked the guardsman in the jaw and sent him crashing to the floor.
The Earthman swore in fear and worry. “That will rouse the other guards for sure,” he predicted as he looked at the Ziumuans who lay about the cell in various states of incapacity.
“No,” said Ulwara savagely, sensing the direction of his thoughts. “After what they tried to do they can rot here. Better to face our enemies on our own.”
She then turned to Vezayu and was shocked by what she saw. The woman straddled the sailor who’d tried to rape her. Her hands were about his throat. Slowly, gleefully, she strangled him to death. But it wasn’t this act of brutality that made Ulwara shudder; rather it was the crazed look upon her face – something that was beyond mere vengeance – a hint of the wild madness that lurked beneath the facade of her beauty.
Ulwarau found her voice, attributed what she saw as did Langdon as a momentary aberration resulting from the attempted rape.
“Common foes have made us allies; come,” she cajoled, hoping she could reason with the woman, “we’ll not leave you alone with these brutes. By working together all of us may yet win our safety.”
The sensible suggestion penetrated the uyazi’s madness and the feral look left her face as if a switch had been suddenly flipped. Sanity, of a sort, returned. The priestess-queen released her hold upon the corpse. Her expression was now calm, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She stepped forward and together the trio exited the cell, the worried Earthman eying Vezayu suspiciously.
“Can you remove these bands?” calmly asked the priestess-queen, touching the metal circuit that neutralised her mind-eye. “My powers have largely recovered and I’m sure the same applies to Ulwara’s. We’ll need free use of our combined abilities to overcome the foe.”
The Earthman looked at her amazed. There was no sign of any resentment or anger. It was as if she had made the request to an old friend – a dramatic contrast to her earlier dealings with him. Langdon found his voice. There wasn’t time to puzzle over this sudden gratifying change.
“Yes,” he answered as he swiftly moved to a table and chose a hair ornament belonging to Vezayu, one of her jewelleries the guards had been gambling over, and with its pin soon picked the locks of the confining bands.
As Ulwara removed the hindering circuit from her head she froze. “Listen,” the woman tensely whispered.
Langdon suppressed a violent curse. The tramp of many feet could be heard swiftly coming down the dungeon’s stairs. Warriors alerted by their comrade’s cry were now rushing to investigate his alarm. The Earthman wildly looked about the chamber. There was no other exit, no hiding place in the bare confines of the room. It seemed they’d gone from the frying pan into the fire. They were trapped and in mere seconds would have to face the savage onslaught of the foe.
“Quickly, into the far corner of the room,” urged Vezayu. “Ulwara,” she hurriedly continued, “If we work together we can use the pooled power of our mind-eyes to cloud their senses. Stealth is our only chance, for we cannot fight the entire palace guard.”
The trio swiftly moved. Ulwara motioned the puzzled, worried Earthman to silence. There was simply no time for any detailed explanations. The women’s mind eyes opened; pulsed rapidly as an intense look of concentration came upon their faces. The footsteps became louder, nearer. Langdon tensed, his knuckles whitening on the hilt of a purloined sword sheathed at his side.
A dozen warriors burst within the room. Langdon’s heart hammered wildly. Cries of consternation erupted from the men at the sight of the open cell and their unconscious compatriots. A guard looked directly at the frozen Earthman. Vezayu’s hand gripped his arm with warning pressure. He mustn’t move. Sweat beaded his brow. His entire body was a coiled spring of tension. At any moment he expected the furious guards to rush them, swords swinging in a whirlwind of slashing blades.
The staring guard’s eyes glazed, slid away from Langdon. The man stumbled, shook his head in puzzlement and then turned to join his companions, who kicked and cursed the prisoners savagely in a bid to elect the escapees whereabouts. But the hapless, pleading Ziumuans could tell them nothing, and with a final brutal oath the commander of the guards bid his men lock the cell and swiftly raise a city-wide alarm.
In mere minutes the unconscious guards were carried off, while two fresh men were stationed in the dungeon, leaving the trio in the corner completely undetected by their befuddled enemies. But the danger was far from over – the strain of intense concentration was taking a heavy toll upon Ulwara and Vezayu. Langdon sensed they couldn’t keep this up forever – clouding the minds of guards and prisoners equally.
The women began to inch towards the stairs, Langdon supporting each with an arm about their waists. They moved with glacial slowness, for any rapid motion would betray their presence. Both priestesses trembled from the strain of the intense mental effort. The worried Earthman glanced sideways at the guards. Both warriors were absorbed in the game of their previous jailers. He relaxed, only to tense again as Vezayu stumbled, her foot scraping softly on the stony floor.
Both guards’ heads jerked up. In an instant they were on their feet, brawny hands clasping weapons as their eyes darted suspiciously about the chamber. The trio froze. Langdon sensed the terrific strain of his companions. The guard’s eyes focused on them. The women’s faces were drawn, haggard from the tremendous effort. Their bodies were slick with sweat.
A dazed look came over the warriors faces as both women exerted their powers to the utmost. The guards became as rigid as granite carvings, frozen in a state of mindless catalepsy. Langdon picked up both women by the waist – so focused were their minds that movement for them was utterly impossible.
The straining Earthman inched towards the stairs, burdened by the weight of the priestesses. Now it was Langdon’s turn to sweat as his muscles trembled from torturous employment. Panting, he gained the first step and began his agonizing ascent. The staircase spiralled upwards. He made the first turn in a shaking welter of pain, but could go no further. The women moaned softly, went limp in his arms, both fainting from the strain. Langdon lowered his unconscious companions and sank upon the treads beside them, utterly exhausted.
All three recovered slowly. Fear of discovery was upon them – although hidden from the guards below by the turn of the stairs, the warriors would now be free of their trance. If they realised that something had happened to them, or if other men descended from above to relieve them, well, the Earthman and his companions would be finished for none of them had strength to fight with either fists or powers of the mind.
“Come,” whispered Vezayu as she wiped the sweat from her bow. “We dare not stay here longer. We must move swiftly before we are discovered.”
The trio forced themselves to rise and recommence their painful ascent, not yet fully recovered from their arduous ordeal. Langdon paused at the head of the spiralling staircase and peered with cautious trepidation across the threshold, sword drawn and tensely held.
The dungeon’s exit gave ingress to a torture chamber, and Langdon shuddered at the sight of the infernal machines, beyond which was the guard room of the temple-palace. Fortune favoured them – no warriors were in sight. The place having been thoroughly examined they had no doubt moved on to search for the escapees in other parts of the ornate complex, which consisted of many octagonal towers three stories in height, baroquely ornamented, and connected by broad galleries of similar flamboyance that formed a sprawling series of courtyards and formal gardens.
Stepping within the chamber the trio moved stealthily to the guardroom’s entryway. Langdon tensed as he looked through the grillwork door. Beyond was a solitary guard who paced the length of the room. The place wasn’t as deserted as Langdon had hoped. Quickly, the Earthman jerked back just in time – the warrior had turned and was now marching back towards the dungeon’s door as he made his rounds of the chamber.
“Those keys hanging from his belt,” whispered Vezayu, “unlock this door. “My mind-eye has not yet regained its strength. It is up to you unless Ulwara has recovered,” she said looking at the other woman, who wobbled her head in negation.
Langdon bit back an oath. His mind raced as the guard drew near. A plan born of desperation came to him. Stealthily, he lowered his sword as his companions pressed themselves against the wall in a state of high anxiety.
The Earthman slowly scraped his blade upon the stone. The guard started, stopped his advance. His hand grasped his weapon’s hilt and slowly drew the blade. Again, Langdon briefly made a noise. The warrior vacillated and Langdon cursed silently. He wanted to entice the man to come within range and investigate, not alarm him into calling reinforcements. Had he overplayed his hand? Tense moments ensued. Langdon sweated. White knuckled, he gripped his sword.
Slowly, the wary guard approached. Langdon didn’t relax. He had only one chance, one swift and accurate strike. If he botched it all was lost. The fellow advanced. Nearer he came, closer still. Langdon strained his ears, heard the closeness of the soft footfall of the cautious warrior. Swiftly the Earthman struck. He leapt from concealment and thrust his sword through the grill in one swift and fluid motion.
His plunging blade thrust through the fellow’s heart. The man stiffened. His eyes bulged and his mouth opened in a soft gasping cry. Ulwara caught his sword as he slumped lifeless against the bars and both women lowered the corpse carefully to the floor so no warning noise would be made.
In but moments they had unlocked the door and stuffed the body into a large built in wardrobe that stretched the entire length of one wall - a wardrobe containing weapons and scale armour which they quickly donned to cover their nudity. In addition Vezayu found a supply of ambris – a biscuit-like restorative compounded of various herbs commonly used by Imbazgan warriors, and to the Earthman had a flavour reminiscent of liquorice.
Thus disguised and invigorated by the restorative they exited the room, Vezayu in the lead, guiding them to a place of safety, or so Langdon hoped for he was uncertain of the enigmatic priestess-queen’s intentions. She was their ally now, but only because circumstances had forced her to be pragmatic, but if she gained the upper hand then things might indeed be very different.
Putting these worrying thoughts aside Langdon concentrated on his surroundings as they strode with a steady pace along a broad pillared walkway – one of many that connected the octagonal towers of the palace-temple. The place, he saw, was deserted. No doubt most of the servants and staff had been confined to quarters until Iskosi had consolidated his coup. The palace guard were not numerous and couldn’t cover the entire complex, and the rest of the warriors would no doubt be occupied in combing the city for them.
Langdon, though, wasn’t under any illusions. Soon, someone would discover the dead guard; freshly killed, indicating they were still within the immediate vicinity. In addition their disguises were imperfect. They might work at a distance, but even the full face helmets and bulky scale armour couldn’t entirely conceal the feminine curves of his companions, and their bold front would be quickly penetrated.
He moved up beside Vezayu. “I suggest we flee the city,” he urged. “Lead us back to the temple’s inner sanctum. We can escape through the network of secret tunnels by which we entered.”
“You forget,” replied Vezayu, haughtily, “those tunnels are no longer secret. I know of them. Iskosi knows of them. They are now heavily guarded. We must free the other priestesses. With the combined force of their mind-eyes we can defeat my treacherous uncle before he can fully entrench himself in power. Besides, it isn’t in my nature to flee if I can fight.” Then she changed the subject suddenly, tangentially, as was the nature of her mercurial personality: “Why did you defend me in the dungeon? You attacked you own men and put yourself in danger for an enemy.”
“Why ... why because it was the right thing to do,” replied Langdon somewhat shocked that she didn’t understand. “It wasn’t a ploy on my part to win favour with you if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else as she recalled the way he’d looked at her in the inner sanctum of the temple. Before, men had gazed upon her, true, but with only fear and cringing servitude, or unclean lust as had her uncle. This man was strangely different – there had been neither fear not lust in his lingering gaze, but a desire that was somehow wholesome now that she thought about it. But even so it disturbed Vezayu, this outlandish emotion he expressed, and the feelings that it stirred up within her – a longing, a strange weakness that was most unsettling to one who thought herself above such desires.
“You’re a strange man,” she said angrily, annoyed at him and at herself also. “You’re not one of us, and you never will be.”
“Am I really that different?” he countered, trying to reach her. “If you cut me do I not bleed as you do? When the sun shines upon me do I not feel pleasure at its warmth as do you? And when I look upon a beautiful woman ... do I not feel desire, also?”
Vezayu looked at him for a moment, a smile forming. But then her mood, as changeable and as unpredictable as the wind, blew cold. The moment was lost and she turned away and continued on in moody silence.
Within a few minutes they had reached the end of the colonnade unchallenged, and Langdon was on the verge of breathing a sigh of relief when the heavy brass bound doorway of the tower began to open, and through the widening gap came the noisy tramp of many warriors – a martial sound that spiked him with unnerving fear.
As the brass bound door began to open Langdon swiftly moved. By the walkway grew an ornamental tree whose weeping fern-like leaves of crimson hue might provide concealment. Quickly, he thrust his companions within its pendulous verdure and prayed he’d been fast enough for the door had now swung wide.
The trio huddled nervously against the gray and scaly trunk as a dozen warriors marched out upon the walkway. The frond-like leaves still trembled from the escapees plunge within the growth, and could easily arouse the suspicions of the foe. But luck was with them – the helmets of the warriors cut down peripheral vision, and they strode past completely ignorant of the presence of the jittery fugitives. Langdon, though, was not at all relaxed – Two sentries remained by the door while the others were heading for the guardroom, and would no doubt soon discover the corpse they’d hastily concealed.
“Quickly,” urged Vezayu when the guards had passed, “we must ascend this tower for it is the residence of my priestesses who I’m sure will have been confined in the upper floors.”
Ulwara place a restraining hand on her shoulder. “This is suicide,” she objected. “We might overcome the two warriors by the door, but such important personages would not be left so flimsily guarded. No doubt other men remain within.”
Vezayu brushed aside her hand and objections. “I’m not such a fool as to go in by the obvious way,” she angrily whispered. “At the rear of the tower is a trellis of flowering vines that climb to the very apex of the building. They shall be our entryway; now follow me. We must move swiftly ere the body of the slain guard is discovered.”
Carefully they left the concealment of the tree, barely avoiding detection by the sentries as they moved cautiously around the octagonal tower. Neither Langdon nor Ulwara were happy with the risky plan, but there was little else that could be done in these desperate circumstances. Within a minute they had reached their goal, and Langdon peered round a corner of the building. He quickly drew back, suppressing a bitter curse.
“Two guards are stationed by the trellis,” he whispered to his companions. “We may be able to kill both if ...”
A wild cry cut short his words. The sound of running feet could be heard coming from the direction of the guardroom – the slain sentry had been discovered. The warriors were boiling forth like a swarm of vengeful hornets and at any moment would be upon the trio.
Now Langdon really cursed. “We’ve one chance before we’re discovered,” he grimly said. “Swiftly, follow my lead.”
Quickly, the Earthman stepped around the corner and daringly hailed the warriors by the trellis. “The guardroom sentry has been slain,” he boldly cried. “Have you seen or heard anything suspicious?”
Both warriors’ hands dropped to their swords as Langdon quickly approached them. “Halt,” cried one, distrustfully. “All of you raise your visors and identify yourselves.”
Langdon swore. Behind he heard the nearing tramp of other foes - enemies to the rear, enemies to the fore. He’d hoped to get closer to the warriors before attacking. In utter desperation he swiftly drew his sword. In a long and wild lunge he flung himself at the nearest guard as both women charged the other.
Blades clashed in ringing strokes. One guard screamed a death-cry, the other yelled for help, his shout cut short by Ulwara’s decapitating stroke.
“Up the trellis,” she cried as her headless victim tumbled to the ground.
Grasping wrist thick vines all three began to climb in wild haste and had ascended to about mid way when yelling warriors sprinted furiously around the corner of the tower. A flung sword bounced off Langdon’s scale armour. Shouts and curses from below spurred the desperate escapees as half the troop rushed for the entrance of the building whilst the others remained below to cut off all escape.
“Hurry,” gasped Langdon as he forced his tortured body upwards. Weighed down by heavy armour his breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles burned. His whole body shook from the tremendous strain as he scrambled in wild haste for the octagonal window of the topmost floor.
A guard, alerted by the cries below, poked his head out the window as Langdon grasped its sill. The frantic Earthman surged up, grabbed the startled man by collar of his hauberk, jerked down with all his strength and weight. The hapless fellow plummeted. Those below scattered. The falling man’s shrill cries were silenced by the striking earth.
Langdon hauled himself across the sill. Breathing hard he collapsed on the tiled floor as Vezayu heaved herself within the chamber closely followed by Ulwara. Frightened cries greeted their arrival. The Earthman raised his head. Half a dozen women ranging in age from sixteen to sixty huddled in a corner of the room.
Vezayu doffed her helmet. “We’re here to rescue you,” she gasped as the sound of pounding feet could be heard racing up the staircase of the building. “Quickly, pile furniture against the door to barricade it.”
The women moved swiftly at her spurring words, and in but moments several heavy cabinets full of scrolls and other miscellanea had been thrust against the entryway. No sooner had the task been done than a heavy blow slammed against the door. From without could be heard the shouts and curses of the enemy, the strident voice of the officer whose lashing orders flung his brawny men against the hasty barrier.
Vezayu tossed her hair ornament to Langdon as Ulwara and the other women thrust their weight and strength against the slipping barricade.
“Quickly,” urged the priestess-queen, “free the others of their bands.”
Langdon swiftly began his task as the straining women fought to keep the barrier intact. One band fell away as its lock surrendered to the probing needle of the ornament. Heavy bodies slammed against the entryway. The women’s feet slipped, the door jarred open by half a foot as Langdon struggled with his fear and another lock. The Earthman knew in mere moments the barrier would fall despite the valiant efforts of the women, and raging warriors would burst within the room.
“Quickly, Fazumi,” cried Vezayu to the priestess Langdon had just freed. “Use your powers to break the other locks.”
A scraping noise made Ulwara turn as Fazumi set about her task. The Ziuman priestess swore. Warriors had climbed the trellis. One was hauling himself cross the window sill. Ulwara drew her sword and charged the man as he tumbled within the room. The fellow rolled to his feet, whipped free his sword. Their blades crashed in ringing strokes. Guards smashed against the door in mass. The barrier tumbled and the priestesses leapt clear as angry men burst within the chamber.
A chaos of wild shouts erupted. Bolts of psychic force lashed out from the freed priestesses. Men screamed, fell dead. Ulwara thrust her foeman through the throat. He tumbled to the tiles as another enemy climbed through the window. Ulwara lunged at him. The man managed to parry her stabbing blade with his forearm, leapt upon her. Both went down as Langdon raced towards the struggling pair.
One priestess, not yet freed of the hindering circuit, fell screaming, thrust through by a cruelly stabbing blade. Vezayu cried above the wild melee. “Form a circle. Seek rapport and create a Shield of Power.”
Langdon stabbed Ulwara’s attacker in the back as a shimmering dome of sparkling force – a more powerful version of the defensive aura - sprang up about the freed priestesses. The warriors hurled themselves against the barrier, swords swinging viciously, desperately, for they knew full well the unleashed power of the women.
But their blades slowed to a stop as the priestesses’ collective and repelling force, mightier than mere brawn, began to act forcefully upon them. The men fell back in a state of nervous agitation as Langdon helped Ulwara to her feet. The worried Earthman cast wary eyes upon the foe, for only Vezayu and her women stood within the dome of screening force.
“Enough, Umla,” cried Vezayu commandingly to the leader of the warriors, whom she identified by the insignia on his helmet. “You cannot stand against the might of our collective power. My priestesses, at my order, can blast your men like lightening blasts a tree. Your swords and armour will not save you. Cooperate, however, and all of you shall live.”
Umla hesitated as he weighed his options. Iskosi had convinced him and the other officers of the palace and city guard that the key to their coup’s success was the neutralization of the power of Vezayu and her women. But the keystone of the plan, which seemed sure of success, had clearly failed. If he refused he and his men would die here and now. But Vezayu was a vengeful, unstable woman and could well have him killed later on if she regained the throne. What was he to do? Life was precious and fate might yet favour him. He knelt in capitulation and his men swiftly followed his example.
“What are your orders?’ he meekly asked.
Vezayu smiled cruelly. The throne was within her grasp, and an intoxicating sense of power, like strong wine, began to loosen the bonds constraining her inner demons. “Where is Iskosi?”
“Upon hearing of your escape he ensconced himself within the throne room,” replied Umla, nervously, for he could sense her growing madness. “There he awaits your capture, surrounded by his personal bodyguard.”
“Then take me to him,” commanded Vezayu eagerly, a crazed look in her eyes as she gazed upon the body of her dead priestess.
They left the room, the Shield of Power becoming a narrow ovoid as the women passed single file through the door. The warriors were in the lead, Vezayu and her priestesses in the middle while Langdon and Ulwara brought up the rear, and as they exited the tower Ulwara turned to the Earthman with a whispered observation.
“You notice we haven’t been included within the protective shield. Vezayu has fully recovered her arrogant confidence. She may no longer see a need for us, and as yet I have not regained my own abilities sufficiently to defend us by tapping into the collective power of her women.”
“I fear you’re right,” replied Langdon, glumly. “For a moment I thought I’d reached her – that she would take my hand in friendship at the very least. But now ... well, I just don’t know.”
They continued on in grim silence as the party circled the building, and moved down another series of covered walkways and ramps that linked the sprawling complex of octagonal towers, courtyards and formal gardens, all built on the terraced mountainside. Within about ten minutes they were approaching another building, ornate and completely gilded from base to high apex whose impressive gem encrusted doorway was guarded by a dozen warriors.
An alarm gong crashed mightily at the sight of the approaching party, and as if by magic a swarm of guards converged upon them from all quarters of the palace. Bolts of jagged force sprang from the priestesses, struck the running men with collective power. They screamed; fell in charred heaps, their smoking corpses littering the earth. The charge faltered under the withering barrage. Vezayu shouted above the chaotic cries.
“Lay down your arms and live. My fight is with Iskosi, not you.”
A crossbow bolt slammed defiantly against the Shield of Power on whose far side Langdon and Ulwara were sheltering. Vezayu, her face a study of utter rage sought out the man responsible. Her eyes locked upon him. The warrior fell back under her withering gaze, her ferocious expression. The hapless man blanched as Vezayu tapped into the collective power of her woman. A flaring bolt of blazing force leapt from her mind-eye as the fellow turned to flee. It struck like a thunderclap, blasting him to gory ruin in a spray of charred and riven flesh.
The terrible spectacle killed all resistance. The warriors broke as one. Swords; armour – all were useless before such awesome power. They cast aside their weapons and knelt in complete surrender, for they were common soldiers who lacked the driving ambition of their superiors whom Iskosi had corrupted with seductive promises of mammon.
Vezayu and her women swept through the kneeling ranks and entered ornate building before them with Langdon and Ulwara following in their wake. The Earthman looked warily about as they strode to the high dais at the expansive room’s further end. Grim faced guards were everywhere but made no move to hinder their swift advance.
Vezayu halted at the foot of the dais where her anxious councillors huddled like frightened mice. The priestess-queen looked up at the throne mounted on the tall podium and locked eyes with the man occupying it.
Iskosi returned her crazed and furious stare. Sweat was upon his brow and a nervous tic jerked is facial muscles. He licked his thin lips anxiously, gathered his courage and spoke in an overly loud voice – an attempt to hide his fear in the face of the deadly power of the freed priestesses, and the look of glowering madness upon Vezayu’s hate contorted face.
“Remember well where you stand, Vezayu,” he warned. “This room is a most sacred place under the protection of our gods. Neither man, nor woman nor beast, nor any other thing of Umhara may commit any act of harm within the Golden Tower: so run the lines of our holy texts.”
Vezayu laughed – a cruel and mirthless sound infused with cunning madness.
“True,” she replied. “But you forget one among us is not of Umhara, and so this injunction does not apply to him.” She pointed dramatically at Langdon. “Behold the man from another world, and your doom,” she cried.
Then to the startled Earthman: “Kill him,” she furiously spat; her eyes wide and staring, “for in his death your freedom lies.”
Langdon looked at her, shocked by the insanity that he saw in her wild expression. He’d realised early on that Vezayu’s temperament was volatile, but now the shocking truth confronted him – that far darker passions lurked within, and now they lay before him, manifest and undeniable in all their naked ugliness.
The Earthman turned to face Iskosi. The man sat rigid on the throne. Deathly quiet had settled upon the room. No one moved, no one spoke; only grim and fearful expressions voiced the inner thoughts of guards and councillors alike – that when Vezayu regained her throne there would be bloody retribution on all who’d raised their hand against her.
It was clear to Langdon that the strange tenants of their religion would prevent them interfering. Even Iskosi, ambitious and ruthless though he was, wouldn’t violate his faith. In this room Langdon could cut his throat and he wouldn’t raise a hand to stop the Earthman. Langdon was revolted, for it was akin to butchery in his eyes and he refused to be an instrument of evil.
He turned to Vezayu. “I won’t do it,” he quietly said. “In a fair fight, yes; but what you ask of me – to kill a helpless man – its murder, and I’ll have no part of it.”
A look of shock came upon Vezayu’s face, so accustomed to having her every whim obeyed. But then her astonishment turned to utter rage that swept away all remaining sanity in a wild flood of hate. She screeched like the deranged inmate of an asylum. A terrific bolt of force leapt from her mind-eye. Blinding glare erupted. The air was rent by a terrible explosion. Langdon was lifted off his feet, hurled through the air. He crashed heavily to the ground, the agony of impact blotting out all consciousness.
Langdon regained consciousness and for some minutes lay in a daze as he recovered from the stunning impact. Things had happened so quickly that only now was he able to piece events together. He remembered: the flare of light, the explosion. Ulwara, sensing danger, had moved more quickly than Vezayu. Her abilities now regained she’d flung her arms about Langdon, tapped into the power of the priestesses. A dome of force had enclosed them, deflected the terrible bolt. It had struck Iskosi, and the backwash of the tremendous blast had flung them to the floor.
The worried Earthman rolled over. Ulwara lay next to him. She moaned and opened her eyes. Langdon, relieved to see she wasn’t badly injured helped her up. Both looked warily about the room. No one outside had yet dared enter to investigate. The throne and Iskosi had vanished. Only shattered rubble remained. Bodies were scattered about the room, struck down by flying debris. Others lived, but still lay sprawled upon the floor. Vezayu and her women, who had been saved by their shield, were among them, their powers exhausted for the moment, for the uyazi’s bolt, and Ulwara’s use of force to deflect it had drained them of their power.
Langdon and Ulwara approached the unconscious priestess-queen, and the Earthman gazed silently upon her with mixed emotions.
“You desire her,” observed Ulwara insightfully with neither rancour nor condemnation.
“Yes,” frankly admitted Langdon. “I’m as ensnared by her beauty as Iskosi was. But she is a danger to those around her – like a gorgeous flower whose perfume is a deadly poison. However, even though I realize this I can’t help the way I feel, which no doubt makes me an utter fool. It is a tragedy that one so young and beautiful is afflicted by such utter madness. No man could live with her. It is impossible,” he admitted, his voice choked by crushing sadness.
Ulwara remained thoughtfully silent for a moment. She liked Langdon, and after all he’d done for her and her people he deserved something in return. “We of Ziumu have devoted our powers of the mind more to the healing arts than those martial. A cure may indeed be possible, though I cannot guarantee it.”
The sound of sandals crunching on the rubble strewn floor made them turn before the matter could be discussed any further. A hobbling man approached – it was Kamu, the senior councillor now that iskosi was dead: an elder of equal competence though lacking the former’s driving, ruthless ambition.
“I overheard what you said,” he began. “Cure her if you can, do with her what you will. I speak for all my fellow councillors when I say we don’t care. We’ve had enough of her and if she stays poison or an assassin’s blade will end her life before nightfall. You are the champion of your gods. You have bested us. Now I implore you: go in peace and take your idols with you.”
“Then we are free to leave unharmed and in addition take Vezayu with us?” queried Langdon unbelievingly.
“Of course,” confirmed Kamu. “I have no desire to anger your gods by being bitter enemies. The theft of your idols was entirely Vezayu’s idea and as it was our duty to obey her we obeyed, but more out of fear than true loyalty. But now she has gone too far - has violated our most sacred tenant by committing violence within the sacred bounds of the Golden Tower. The other priestesses are all sane and from among them a new uyazi shall be chosen through the Ritual of Mefaya.”
Langdon wasn’t sure if placing all the guilt on Vezayu’s shoulders could in some way exonerate those who’d carried out her murderous commands, but if it meant their freedom he’d let the matter rest and agree that the priestess-queen was the only one to blame.
“I agree to your proposal,” he quickly replied, eager to take advantage of the offer, “and when a new uyazi has been established in Imbazga it is my hope a formal peace treaty can be concluded between our nations that will establish prosperous and enduring tranquillity for all.”
**********
Langdon anxiously paced the deck of the sailing ship as the island nation of Imbazga fell astern. He glanced worriedly at the open hatch leading to the lower deck. Vezayu’s screams and imprecations had fallen silent an hour ago. The only sound was the rush of the ship over the calm sea, the hum of rigging plucked by the wind, and the soft noises of the loaned Imbazgan crew as they went about their nautical tasks with quiet efficiency.
The Earthman winced as he touched the additional bruises upon his face. Vezayu had put up quite a struggle when she regained consciousness, and he and Ulwara had been forced to use considerable force to restrain her. The former priestess-queen now lay bound to a bunk below decks – a feat that had been accomplished with considerable difficulty as had the forcing of an herbal sedative between her lips – Ulwara had nearly lost a finger in the process.
Ulwara was now probing Vezayu’s brain, searching out the cause of her mental instability with the aim to cure it. But could she cure it? That was the question foremost in Langdon’s troubled mind. What would he do if she was beyond curing? Vezayu would be a dangerous woman even without the powers of her mind-eye. At the moment the metal band was in place neutralizing her abilities, but if she ever found a way of freeing herself of it ... well, he didn’t like to think about the mad vengeance she’d wreak on all around her.
Was she too dangerous to let live in the absence of a cure? Langdon’s mind shied away from that idea. It was something that he couldn’t face. Was he in love with her? No, it wasn’t quite love, but rather a powerful attraction, perhaps the precursor of love. But he was sensible enough to know that that was all it could ever be if her madness was incurable, for love is of the mind, of the spirit, and if one mind is unbalanced then all is doomed to tragic futility.
He leaned heavily against the ship’s railing, a silent study in gnawing, anxiety and dejection, lost in his own whirling thoughts that chased themselves about in useless circles.
A hand on his shoulder made him start. He turned and saw that Ulwara was standing beside him. She looked exhausted from the strain of an hour of intense mental concentration.
“She’s sleeping peacefully now,” replied Ulwara in response to his searching gaze. “And I need rest as well.”
“Is ... is she cured?” he asked with a mixture of eagerness for her reply and also trepidation at the answer.
“We’ll know when she awakens. That is all I can say.”
“Then I’ll go below and wait,” he replied.
Langdon descended the ladder to the ship’s cramped interior. Vezayu lay bound to a bunk several feet away. He moved to her side and stared down at her. Her body was at rest, reposed in form and face. Her countenance was calm, unmarred by the madness that lurked beneath the facade of her beauty – a madness the worried Earthman fervently hoped she was now completely cured of.
He sat on the edge of the narrow bunk, careful as not to disturb her, gazing at her beauty, full of hope and of worry also. How long he sat he did not know, but at last Vezayu opened her eyes, and gazed upon the anxiously waiting and expectant man with slowly growing comprehension.
The woman looked at the bonds upon her wrists and ankles, but made no effort to struggle against them. She shifted her placid gaze to Langdon and calmly spoke.
“Am I your prisoner, your slave?”
“No,” he replied with quiet joy. “I desire your friendship and more than that if you can give it to me.”
Vezayu returned his look with a troubled gaze. “My mind is clear,” she said. “It is as if a blindfold has been pulled away. I have done many things I now bitterly regret. Can you have friendship or even more with a woman such as me?”
“Before you were ill, but now I see you are well. A new life and a new identity awaits you in Ziumu, and I will help you in every way I can. Let this be enough for now,” he concluded as he began to free her from the ropes.
Vezayu smiled as Langdon helped her to her feet, and together they ascended to the sunlit deck above.
THE END