“Then you will lend your strength to us in setting my people free, and in crushing our mutual enemies?” demanded Andar, eagerly. The magician smiled and stilled his words with a gentle gesture.
“It is not that easy, my young friend! We Tharkoonians have never been a warlike race. I maintain only a small militia to keep order in my dominions. Thus, I have no standing army to lend in support of your cause…”
“Aye? An’ what o’ his magic powers, then?” grumbled Klygon to Lord Eryon, where they stood a few paces from the throne dais. “I could’a swore his wizardship there was able t’summon ghosts an’ genies from The World Above!”
“Hush, goblin,” growled Eryon, from one corner of his mouth. “When princes converse, ugly foreign imps keep silent.”
” ‘Ugly,’ is it, you thick-head,” muttered Klygon in a surly manner. “I’ll teach you manners when you do be discoursin’ with a visitin’ gentleman of Ardha!”
Little love was lost between the homely, comical, bandy-legged little hook-nosed Assassin, and the towering, hot-tempered Komarian blueblood. Their banter had enlivened many a dull evening aboard the Xothun on the voyage hither. The give-and-take between the disparate duo, I had best add here, was largely on the verbal level; actually, a warm bond of comradeship had sprung up between the two men, so very different in appearance, background, and social position.
“Will you two hold your tongues?” begged Andar, repressing a grin.
“Beggin’ your princely pardon, I’m sure,” retorted the little guttersnipe with a servile bow. “But yonder great hulking oaf lacks decent words when dealin’ with his betters—”
“Ho,” roared Eryon, huffing out his beard, eyes ablaze. “My better, are you, weasel? Scoundrel! Rapscallion! Deformed dwarfling! Were we back aboard the Xothun, ‘twould be out blade and scatter gore!”
“I beg you, gentlemen,” laughed Prince Parimus helplessly. “We have important matters of state to decide here! Kindly conduct your duels, whether verbal or physical, after a proper course of action has been determined … “
“I pray pardon for my ruffianly followers,” Andar grinned, with a shrug. “But, to be fair, Klygon of Ardha has raised a point of worthy interest in mentioning your wizardly powers, sire. Standing army or not, is’t possible your mastery of sorcerous arts is sufficient to outweigh ten thousand warriors in the field?”
By sheerest chance, the agile-witted Prince of Komar had touched upon a facet of his abilities of which the Wizard of Tharkoon was excessively vain. He coughed, complacently pooh-poohing such voluble praise; finally he admitted, with a pretense of modesty which fooled no one present, that he did possess a modicum of skills in the usage of the age-old technological arcana of the Kaloodha.
Through the next few days there were several such meetings convened in the great hall of audience, when the lords of the Tharkoonians and the barons of the Komarians debated tactics, schedules, and the deployment of forces.
The affable Prince-Wizard of the seacoast city was far too intelligent to ignore the danger hovering with dark wings over the security of his happy realm. And far too humane and compassionate to regard with indifference the brutal subjugation of the isle of Komar by her savage conquerors.
Prince Andar reiterated his scheme for entering the harbor of Komar aboard the Xothun, with him and his men dressed in Barbarian harness, their complexions concealed behind blue paint. The all-important element of surprise, he thought, would enable them to gain entry to the walled Citadel atop the acropolis hill at the heart of the city, upon pretext of bearing important tidings. Then, once behind the fortress gates, they would strive to cut their way through the Barbarian chiefs to recapture the Citadel. Due to the extensive fortifications of the acropolis hill, the Barbarian warriors in the Outer City would be helpless to come to the defense of their chieftains.
“And then, timing it to a nicety, were I to land with my force and engage the Outer City garrisons with my magic weapons,” mused Parimus thoughtfully, “it would be a matter of divide and conquer … hmm… your plan has considerable merit, my princely neighbor!”
“Such is certainly my own opinion,” admitted Andar the Komarian. “Great import, however, lies in timing the arrival of our twin expeditions, which must be precise. Your fleet should set sail so as to reach the harbor of Komar thirty to forty minutes after the Xothun docks; anything earlier or later might prove fatal to the success of our plans.”
The Prince-Wizard smiled unworriedly.
“I have no fleets, Prince Andar; neither need we concern ourselves with such trivial problems as tides, or contrary winds or storms.”
Andar’s frank, open face clearly registered his surprise and consternation.
“No fleet? But how, then, do you plan to launch your forces against the stronghold of the Barbarians?”
“By air, my young friend! I have succeeded in re-energizing one of the aerial vessels used by the forgotten Kaloodha. My sky yacht will serve to bear my warriors and myself to the island city in a mere twinkling. Have no worries on that account, let me reassure you!”
Their plans concluded, the Prince and his lords, together with Klygon, returned to the Xothun and cast off. In some little while the ship had vanished from view. It would take them only a day or two of steady sailing to gain entry to the harbor of Komar; Andar did not plan to loiter along the way; however he strove to time his arrival at early nightfall, for the darkness would make it even less likely that the Blue Barbarians would penetrate their disguises and discover the imposture. Parimus had supplied them with a sufficiency of a blue salve whose tone accurately matched the pigment of the Barbarians’ skins.
Leaving Klygon behind as his liaison with the Tharkoonians, when Prince Andar and his warrior nobles debarked in the Xothun, they took with them the beautiful young foreign woman who had so dramatically landed on the deck of the vessel immediately prior to their landing in the harbor of Tharkoon. Klygon at loose ends since the disappearance of young Karn, was happy to have something to do with himself; he delighted in the importance of his new role, strutting pompously about in borrowed robes.
While the Xothun sailed the waters of the inland sea of Komar, the Prince-Wizard of Tharkoon assembled a company of his bravest, most experienced bowmen and readied his sky yacht for immediate departure.
This vehicle closely resembled the Kaloodha skysled in which Karn, Janchan and Zarqa had made their escape from the Pylon of Sarchimus the Wise. It was fashioned from the same unknown silvery metal, with long sled-like runners which extended beneath the keel of the vessel and afforded it a means to settle on the ground. But it was many times the length of the little four-man sled; with an enclosed cabin and compartments below the deck, which could serve as comfortable accommodations for a considerable number of men. Circular portholes, fitted with panes of durable, transparent crystal, ran in a row along the sides; and the prow of the vehicle terminated in a pointed nose like that of a tapering projectile, rather than turning up in a curve as did the prow of the skysled.