The sluggish wits of the Ssalith did not at once register the fact that the tormenting pressure of the manling was gone. By that time, Ralidux had crawled further into the black tunnel and was beyond its reach.
Ralidux crawled the length of the tunnel on his hands and knees because it was too low-roofed to permit him to stand erect. At the end the tunnel opened into a large, circular rotunda with a domed roof. The rotunda had evidently been hewn from the solid bed-rock of the island, and Ralidux marvelled at the sheet immensity of labor expended on the subterranean structure. Other side-tunnels branched off from all sides; their black mouths gaped in the smooth circular walls of the room, spaced at broad intervals.
The rotunda was barren of anything but the litter of trash and rotten, decayed bits of wood and fabric that had once perhaps been furniture. It was difficult to ascertain the purpose for which the subterranean chamber had been designed.
A wide stone arch led into an adjoining antechamber; therein the Skyman from Calidar found weird artifacts of glistening metal and crystal whose purposes were equally enigmatic. Chamber followed chamber, in a straight line. At the terminus of this series, he entered a huge stone vault filled with incomprehensible mechanisms used by the Ancient Ones. Among these he espied a slender craft, pointed at either end, which resembled a gondola or a canoe. It was fashioned entirely of a sleek metal of fierce indigo hue, and possessed a cockpit-like enclosure shielded with crystal. Peering within the transparent cupola, the Calidarian saw a padded seat and a curving control-panel. Lights yet glowed among the controls, suggesting that this strange vessel still possessed motive power.
The discovery intrigued the black man. A savant among the Skymen, he was familiar with the super-science of the Ancients; they in many ways had rivalled the brilliant and sophisticated achievements of the Winged Men who had ruled the planet before the advent of man.
The terminal chamber opened upon a cliffside, which gave a clear vista of jungle, sea and sky. A heavy growth of vegetation screened this lateral opening. Ralidux clambered through, making his way out of the jungle-clad slopes to the shore, and thence around the curve of the isle to the spot where he had left his zawkaw.
The giant hawk, of course, was no longer there, having flown off with Niamh and Arjala. A fury gnawed at the heart of the black immortal, as he guessed that his fair captive and her accomplice had eluded his clutches in this manner. For an indeterminate period he ranged the jungle isle, careless of again encountering the serpent-monster, finding no trace whatsoever of the two women. Towards nightfall, he became convinced the women had departed from the isle by means of the winged steed.
By this time, aware of a raging hunger, he paused to refresh himself with such jungle fruits, nuts and berries as he could find. His keen intellect, whose rationalizations were not entirely impaired by his lust for Arjala, considered the alternatives open to him.
His appetite somewhat sated, he climbed back up the verdure-clad slope to the lofty cliff and reentered the stone vault where the advanced mechanisms of the Ancient Ones reposed. Unless the gondola-like craft was indeed an aerial vehicle as it seemed, and still under power, he was marooned here helplessly. This goaded him to wild extremes, for he could not bear the notion that the voluptuous creature who was the object of his desires had escaped him.
He experimented with the craft and found the mode whereby the crystal-screened cupola could be energized. Entering, and seating himself within the cockpit, he studied the controls closely. Their markings were in a language unknown to him; but his highly-trained scientific mind soon ascertained the purposes of the various verniers, levers and studs.
Easing forward a red-enameled lever in its slot, Ralidux heard the hum of hidden engines. A vertigo assailed him as the slim craft floated free of the floor of the vault and ascended towards the rocky roof overhead. A touch on the lever halted this motion, and he thrust forward a second control-bar. The vehicle floated forward, its up-curved prow cleaving through the dense growth of bushes which screened the exit from the cavern.
In another moment his flying contrivance soared aloft above the jungles, circled the island once, and he then headed her prow into the dawn and flew out over the open sea.
Part III.
THE BOOK OF SHANN OF KAMADHONG
Chapter 11.
CASTAWAYS IN AN UNKNOWN SEA
When the great wave washed me overboard from the deck of the galley Xothun, I struck the icy black waters with stunning force and sank like a stone into the depths. The waves closed over my head and through my parted lips, which had opened involuntarily in a cry of alarm; the cold waters rushed in to choke me.
But the biting chill of the cold waves spurred me to consciousness moments later; I struck out in a wild spasm of terror, kicking and struggling convulsively. In a another moment my head broke surface and I gulped air into my starved lungs. For a time I floated there, struggling to keep my head above the waves, spitting and gagging; spewing up the waters I had swallowed.
I could see nothing, being blind. The hull of the Xothun might be very near, almost within the reach of my outstretched fingers. Or, for all I knew, the ship might be rapidly receding as I wallowed helplessly amidst the cold waters; and every passing moment might be carrying it further and further away.
I strained my ears, seeking the whereabouts of the ship by the only sense left to me, which was that of hearing. But all that came to me was the howling of the gale, the rumble of thunder, and the ear-splitting crack of lightning. That, and the roar and splashing of the sea were all that I could hear.
It seemed to me that I should have been able to hear the creak of the timbers, the squeal of cordage, and the hoarse yelling of battling men, even above the gale. But I heard nothing to suggest that the ship and my comrades were near me. It was as if, instead of falling overboard into the sea, I had been whisked from the deck by the spell of some malign enchanter; then transported by his magic to the most desolate, uninhabited portion of the planet.
My hands reached out, clutching desperately; but they closed on only empty air and cold water. I opened my mouth to yell for help but the waves battered me, drowning my calls.
That my predicament was almost entirely hopeless was no secret to me. Already the cold chill of the icy waters had penetrated to my bones. My legs were numb and my arms increasingly feeble. I might manage to keep my head above the waves for a time, but not very long. Young and strong as I was, a cold and watery grave lay in wait for me when my endurance should fail and I no longer had the strength to struggle against the drag of the icy waters.
Then it was that my outstretched hands, groping frantically for something to which I might cling, touched a solid object. I seized upon it desperately, tracing its outline with numb fingers. It was a length of carven wood, half as long as my body, which terminated in sharp, raw splinters. So struck was I by shock and so benumbed by the terror of my predicament, that it was some time before I realized the nature of what I clung to with frenzied strength.
It was a fragment of the deck-rail, which had broken away when the waves had dashed me over the side of the ship. The wood was inwardly dry and covered with a thick coat of paint or gilding. While the fragment of rail would not have sustained the weight of a grown man, it was sufficiently buoyant to support my weight, being a muscular but half-starved boy.
I wrapped my arms about it, locking my numb fingers together; pillowing my breast and cheek upon the uppermost surface of the wood so that my head was above the level of the waves.