A council of war was held that morning in the captain’s cabin. That bluff and hearty warrior, Lord Eryon, was all for putting about for Komar. He pointed out that when the subjugated populace of the island learned that the princely heir of their former monarch yet lived, they would rise up to overthrow the Blue Barbarians.
“There is much in what you say,” Andar mused. “In truth, my lords, we have an extraordinary opportunity presented to us by fate. I refer to the fact that we hold the Xothun; the Barbarian conquerors will think naught of seeing her return from her mission; all the more, if those of us visible on deck assume the characteristic trappings of their own kind. All we need do is find a method of coloring our bodies the peculiar azure of their race. We can enter the harbor and dock in broad daylight, under the very eyes of the conquerors, without alarm or discovery.”
“Then it is your decision, my Prince, to turn about and make for home?” demanded Eryon eagerly. The Prince lifted one hand.
“Not so fast, old friend!” he smiled. “Fate has also offered yet another rare opportunity to us; one that should not be ignored or overlooked in our haste to liberate our captive realm.”
“What opportunity is this?”
“I refer to our fore-knowledge of the plans of the Horde, who next intend to strike against Tharkoon. You will recall, my lords, that our former masters on this ship were bound there to test the mood and temper of the Tharkoonians; if possible, to gain some estimate of the strength of their fortifications, and the disposal and number of their warriors. Here is our chance to enlist a strong and willing ally on our side. The relations between Tharkoon and Komar have ever been polite, if not indeed friendly. Surely the Wizard of Tharkoon, once apprised of the secret intentions of the savage Horde, would choose to strike boldly now, rather than supinely await the arrival of a fleet invading his own realm.”
“Perhaps,” growled Eryon, “and perhaps not. These wizards be a tricksey lot; and wiley, to boot. We shall waste valuable time in paying court to the Tharkoonians—time that might better be spent in battle for Komar! Remember, sire, that erelong the Warlords of the Horde will be expecting the swift return of this vessel from its mission. Already much time has been squandered by the Barbarian officers, who knew not how to use the winds and tides to full advantage…”
“We shall make up for lost time on our return voyage from Tharkoon,” said the Prince. “For we are veteran sailors and the Barbarians were clumsy novices at the art. We shall enter Komar’s harbor on schedule, I doubt not.”
No further arguments were offered against Prince Andar’s plan; for it was obvious to all that they should enormously enhance their chances for recapturing Komar from her conquerors, could they augment their strength by adding a contingent of warriors from Tharkoon.
All that day, then, the Xothun plied the waves in the direction of the mainland city on the seacoast.
Towards nightfall the alarm went up. Alert lookouts stationed atop the mast had spied a flying monster, silhouetted against the dimming skies. Andar, Eryon and Klygon gained the deck, swords at the ready, to observe with amazement the descent of the aerial creature.
None of the Komarians had ever seen its like before; but Klygon knew it all too well. It was one of the monstrous blue-winged hawks employed by the black princes of the Flying City!
Riding astride the saddle, a lone passenger was observed—a beautiful young woman, clad in rags of finery which displayed her loveliness to full advantage.
The winged monster circled the ship on laboring wings. Its beaked maw gaped open, tongue lolling. Its gigantic wings beat wearily. Klygon strained his eyes but was unable to make out, in the rapidly failing light of day, the features of the lone rider.
At length, the giant bird descended to the deck and settled on the aft rail. Its immense weight tipped the ship, but not dangerously so. Komarian warriors gingerly approached the ponderous creature, their weapons at the ready. But it panted, eyes glazed and apathetic, and offered no resistance. Seemingly, the brute was too fatigued to be of any danger to the mariners.
Officers assisted the lovely young woman to alight from her perch and descend to the deck. She was not armed and seemed to be dazed; or too stunned to give them arguments.
They assisted her across the swaying deck to where Prince Andar awaited, curious to question this surprising visitor from the upper regions of the air.
By his side, Klygon hovered in an agony of suspense. It seemed to him most likely that the rider would be either the Goddess of Ardha, or the Princess of Phaolon.
But if it were Niamh, then what had happened to Arjala? And if it were Arjala, where was Niamh?
He strained his eyes through the darkening murk—
And then he gasped, recognizing the strange visitor from the skies!
Chapter 15.
CAPTURED INTO THE CLOUDS
We returned to the hut hand in hand, and few words passed between us. The discovery that we had come to love one another had broken upon us with catastrophic suddenness; we were dazed and stunned by the wonder of it.
Back in the jewelbox cities, nestled in the safety of the sky-tall trees, a thousand age-old conventions, customs and traditions hedge young lovers about, dictating the pattern of declaration and response. Here, in the savage wilderness of our island home, we were cast adrift; no guide was upon our actions but that of our own wills. Yet neither of us felt free to give rein to the passions which clamored tumultuously in our hearts. We could not wed without benefit of priestly ritual; any intimacies between us were clandestine, furtive, somehow disreputable, at least according to the rules of civilized behavior obeyed in our society.
But there were some things which had to be said; questions that must be asked, answers that must be given.
“My beloved, why did you conceal your true self from me?” I asked her, when we had returned to our encampment.
“Why? Did I play the part of a young boy so unconvincingly?” she teased.
I grinned. “You made a most enchanting young boy, indeed! But why did you play the part at all?”
She sobered. “I did not know your heart, Karn, nor your sense of honor. At first, considering your pitiful blindness, it seemed wisest to pretend to be of your sex, rather than to cause awkwardness and constraint between us. Since you could not see me to discover the truth, I thought the imposture would be easy to continue. You must remember, my darling, I had recently broken free of the grasp of slavers; they sought to display my beauty before the obscene eyes of lustful purchasers. The very concept is disgusting to me. I am a woman of the Laonese!”
She said it proudly, simply; and I needed no further explanation. To her people, the chastity of a woman is a sacred trust. Once violated, the loss is considered irredeemable; the women of the Laonese avenge their own honor, once despoiled, with a small blade through their hearts.
My own heart contracted painfully at the thought of those slim, dear hands quenching the bright vitality of that pure young body. Her hand stole up to caress my scarred brows.
“I did not know you then, as I know you now; neither could I blindly trust your compunctions and sense of chivalry.”
It was simply said, requiring nothing further. But it was understood that there would be no further intimacies between us until we had either made our escape from the isle or had been rescued and returned together to civilization.