That love which is completely without hope is not love at all, but a black and bitter canker eating at the heart. Would this prove to be my doom? Did she―could she―love the Prince of the Black Legion?
The answer to this enormous question I would perhaps learn in the next few moments.
And so, with what inward trepidation I give my reader freedom to imagine for himself, I approached the passages that led to the secret spyhole and sliding panel in the wall of Darloona’s apartments.
All was impenetrable gloom, yet here I must douse my lamp, for the slightest bit of light might well be visible through some crack or cranny of the walls, and it would never do to give advance warning of my presence. I could not know for certain that the Princess was alone.
Hooding my lantern under a dark cloth which I had carried for that very purpose, I went forward into utter blackness on wary, silent feet.
And froze with astonishment!
For ahead of me, limned with dim radiance against the gloom, I glimpsed the face of an unknown man.
His features were masked behind a black vizor and all that was visible was the glitter of his eyes, which were set against the spyhole in the wall. Lights from the apartment beyond dimly illuminated his profile.
Another had come to spy upon Darloona in the dark!
I drew back in mingled consternation and alarm, and I fear I stumbled slightly in the blackness, for my foot dislodged some bit of loose stone. The clatter of the stone seemed horribly loud in the utter stillness of the black passageway, and at the sound the unseen watcher snatched his face away from the peephole and, thus, vanished completely.
With drumming pulses, my breath coming in quick short gasps, I stood silent, searching the blackness with every sense for the slightest sign of my opponent’s position. I could not see or hear him, but I sensed his presence. My flesh prickled and my nape hairs stirred, as if with some sixth sense I registered the pressure of invisible eyes.
Then a beam of blinding light struck me full in the eyes―a naked steel blade flashed for my heart―and in the next instant I found myself fighting for my life.
BOOK THREE
THE BOOK OF VALKAR
CHAPTER NINE
A FIGHT IN THE DARK
This was far from being the first time I had ever fought for my life, and it was not likely to be the last. But I sincerely pray to whatever gods may be that never again shall I find myself in so hopeless and desperate a situation.
A battle in the narrow confines of a secret passage is bound to be a difficult one, but when both you and your opponent are totally invisible to each other, the result is chaos.
I could hear the sound of his heavy breathing, the rasp of his buskins against the stone floor, the cling and click and slither of our swords―but in the complete darkness, I could see nothing, nothing at all!
My own sword was clear of its scabbard in a trice and I managed to engage and parry his blade to one side, but it was so close that his point drew a thread of scarlet agony across my chest, slicing through my leathern tunic. A fraction of an inch deeper and I would not be here to tell the tale.
I fought a purely defensive bout, and it took all of my science to keep that unseen sword tip from my throat. I paced backwards, step by step, yielding to his advance, and all the while I searched my wits for some way to disengage and flee―for at any instant the sound of our combat might arouse the occupants of the suites beyond the wall, and the passage might be filled with guards. My imposture would be revealed, I would be taken prisoner, and all of my hopes of giving succor to the Princess in her peril and her captivity would be dashed into the blackest depths of despair.
But, in the meantime, it was all I could do to defend myself against the attack of my invisible opponent.
Never have I fought so brilliantly as in that hour. If it had not been for the thousand tricks and tactics of advanced swordsmanship I had learned during my tutelage under the guidance of Lukor, one of the greatest swordsmen of all Thanator, I would have been slashed to ribbons or spitted upon my opponent’s blade in a trice.
Whoever he was, he was a master swordsman in his own right. And this was, when I later had the leisure to ponder it, a bit puzzling. For doubtless he was some lord or warrior of the Chac Yuul, and the Chac Yuul are by no means schooled in the finer points of the art of fence: They are mounted warriors, for the most part, used to chopping away with heavy cutlass-like cavalry weapons, and far more familiar with the uses of spear, battle-ax, and morning star, than with the rapier. Yet my opponent was a marvelous swordsman of consummate skill and of a degree of science that came near to equaling my own. And, with all due modesty, I may safely claim to be one of the finest swordsmen on all of this jungle world of terror and mystery.
The duel was fast and furious, but it did not occupy very much time. In fact, it was over in a few seconds.
For I had backed by now into the corridor, and yielding before the furious assault of my unseen foe, suddenly I stumbled again―this time over my own lantern―and fell flat on my back.
In falling, my foot tore away the cloth whereby I had shielded the glow of my lantern. The sudden burst of brilliant light must have bedazzled and even temporarily blinded my foeman, for his blade faltered, and although be could probably have put a length of steel through my breast as I sprawled prone and momentarily stunned, he blundered.
In the next instant I sprang to one knee and my own blade flashed in a lucky stroke. So dazzled was he by the sudden flare of illumination that he did not parry the stroke and the tip of my steel caught him in a shallow cut across the cheek, just below the black silken vizor that masked his unknown features.
It was only a slight scratch, but it would nevertheless take some days to heal, and it occurred to me that should I chance to encounter my unknown assailant in the next few days, I should be able to identify him by the wound.
Seizing the opportunity for flight, he sprang backwards, ducked into a side branch of the secret passage, and was gone in an instant.
I sprang to my feet, ready to give pursuit, but the sound of clattering footsteps came to my ears and I heard curt, questioning voices and the clank and clamor of metal accouterments, and knew that someone had heard the sounds of our duel in the dark and had given the alarm, summoning the guards.
Thus it was that I hastily retraced my steps to avoid the chance of discovery. And I did not that night, after all, have the opportunity to hear from the lips of my beloved princess whether or not she had truly given her heart into the keeping of another.
For the next day or two Prince Vaspian kept me busy to such an extent that it was impossible for me to contrive a private interview with the Princess.
The morning following my duel in the dark against a mysterious foe I scrutinized the Prince’s features closely, without appearing to do so, and was curiously relieved to discover his face innocent of the slightest scratch. I say “relieved,” but actually my emotions were somewhat more mixed. I knew the Prince knew little of the art of fence, and thus it did not seem likely that it was the son of Arkola with whom I bad battled in the black gloom of the secret passage, for who ever my unknown opponent had been, he was a brilliant swordsman of superb skills.
And yet, since it had been the Prince who had instructed me in my first knowledge of the secret passages, I knew that he was well aware of them; and as Darloona had once been mistress of all this palace, and presumably was privy to a knowledge of the network of passages within her own walls, and since I believed the two of them were lovers, he was the most likely candidate to have been my nameless foe. For I had yet to encounter another person in my explorations of the secret passages.