Such, at least, was our estimate. And such, indeed, was our only hope at present.
As we rode out of direct view of the caravan, I sat straighter in the saddle and held my head high. My yellow hair, which is of a coloration utterly unique among the many nations of the jungle Moon, has saved my life on more than one occasion. And if any detail of our appearance were likely to attract the attention of our comrades aloft, it would be the bright, straw-yellow locks bequeathed me by my Danish mother.
Or so I hoped …
Once we were out of sight of the confused mass of roiling men and beasts and overturned wagons that had been the merchant caravan of Lord Shaphur, we boldly strove to call attention to ourselves.
As we rode, we shouted and windmilled our arms, staring up as the galleon cruised by, silent as a ghost, enormous as a cloud, directly above us
And halted!
Someone above had seen us; someone, perhaps, had recognized us. Or had. they?
A moment later rope ladders came tumbling over the side and we raised a ragged cheer. Swiftly we dismounted, Ergon and I tumbling out of the saddle, with Darloona and Zamara and little Glypto not far behind.
The vessel hung directly above us, blotting out the moons: a vast, fantastic winged shape of blackness. Ergon sprang up and seized the lower rung of the nearer ladder, then reached down to give a hand to one of the women. I leaped into the air to catch the bottom rung of another ladder, and gave poor stiff and sore Glypto a hand.
Then we clambered up the swaying ladders slowly, hand over hand. Below us the thaptors, delighted at the unexpected prospect of freedom, cantered blithely off across the grasslands, anxious to get away from their proximity to the hovering aerial monster. I wished I had taken the time to remove their bridles, reins, and saddles, so they could enjoy their newfound freedom unencumbered by the accouterments of enforced domesticity, but the rescue of my Princess was of uttermost importance in my mind, and doubtless, with their sharp saw-toothed beaks, the unruly gryphon-like creatures would manage to free themselves of the straps and saddles before long.
Forgetting the thaptors, I grinned at the prospect of a safe and comfortable flight back to Shondakor in style. A bit of luck had come our way at last, I thought to myself.
Above me I could see Ergon bestraddling the rail, and heard him cry out as he gained the deck. The wind of this height snatched his words away so that I was unable to hear what it was he had called out. Undoubtedly, he had hailed with delight one of our dear friends on the deck―Koja or Valkar or that little gamecock, Lukor.
Then Darloona climbed over the rail, helped by one from the deck whose face I could not make out, as he was only a black silhouette against the moons. She too voiced a sharp cry of delight, I assumed, before vanishing from my sight.
Below me little Glypto clung dizzily to the slats of the rope ladder, squealing in terror at the height, shrieking as the ladder swayed to and fro in the wind of the great jointed vans that beat up and down in slow booming strokes, maintaining the vessel’s height.
I grinned at his panicky distress. Soon enough the wizened little thief would be wined and dined in the captain’s salon, and when we returned to the Golden City tomorrow, Darloona and I would find the means of repaying the little fellow’s adventures on our behalf with a cozy sinecure. True, the little man had been an unwilling accomplice in our escape, but we should make all his perils and sufferings up to him, I was sure. He would doubtless feel well repayed for his discomforts and dangers by being given a commission as a tax collector!
Grinning at the thought, I climbed the last few yards and reached up, took hold of the rail, and started to haul myself up.
A dark shape blotted out the moons above me as it stood at the rail.
I looked up smiling … and felt the world fall apart under me.
For I looked into the bland, smiling face of Ang Chan.
Chapter 18
The Secret of Zamara
The evil, slitted eyes of the yellow dwarf gleamed into mine as I clung to the rail, frozen with shock and utter astonishment. He smiled benignly at my expression; the smile, however, did not extend as far as his eyes, which remained cold, wise, and cunning.
So complete was the amazement which gripped me that for a moment I was incapable of thought or action. I was possessed with a feeling of horror, which numbed my brain and paralyzed my limbs. How came the yellow devil aboard the Jalathadar―had the Tharkolians somehow tricked or overpowered or captured the galleon of the skies? And if so, what had become of our friends who must have been aboard the craft at the time of its seizure? Gallant Lukor and loyal Koja and bold Valkar and the others would surely have resisted the boarding party with all the valor and courage they possessed. Were they themselves captives of the yellow fiend from mystic Kuur? Were they perhaps―slain?
While these frightening conjectures whirled through my dizzy head, burly arms seized me and dragged me over the rail to stand me on the deck of the Jalathadar. The midship deck swarmed with the brawny, truculent warriors of Tharkol; nowhere could I see Shondakorian captives. Across from me, held helpless in the grip of many hands, Ergon glowered wrathfully, and Darloona cast me a beseeching glance, white-faced, from fear-haunted eyes. My comrades had been seized and gagged as they reached the deck rail, and I now realized that their cries had been of astonishment and horror, not of delight, as I had at first assumed.
The Tharkolian warriors trussed my hands securely behind my back, relieved me of my dagger, which I still wore concealed in the breast of my tunic, and sent me stumbling across the swaying deck to stand with my friends.
The irony was heartbreaking: an instant before we had stood on the brink of freedom. And now we were again thrust into the shackles of captivity.
Zamara alone stood free and unbound. She bestrode the deck like a conqueress, black locks flying on the winds, her lovely face arrogant and proud, flushed with triumph, laughing at our discomfiture. At last the tables were turned, and she was the victor again, the captress, and we were once again the captives, subject to her lightest whim.
But how had this amazing reversal of events come about―and how could the Tharkolians possibly have captured the Jalathadar? The great ornithopter could not land, must remain ever aloft. How then could it possibly have been boarded and taken? Surely, not through such flimsy and capricious a device as the balloons whereby we had been first captured and had later effected our escape from Tharkol?
Ang Chan greeted his empress effusively.
“How fortunate, Royal Lady, that the Prince of Shondakor chanced to bare his head to the rays of the many moons! Even the shifting hues of the moonlight could not conceal from our eyes the unlikely yellow of his hirsute adornment!”
She laughed recklessly.
“And how fortunate, Ang Chan, that the Arkonna reached its long-delayed completion in time to rescue your Empress from the clutches of our enemies. You are to be congratulated!”
He bowed obsequiously. “It was a matter of prime importance, which I pressed with all urgency. Luckily the vessel was so nearly finished that it was only a question of days … .”
These cryptic words made no impression on my dazed mind. Arkonna is the Thanatorian word for “high king” or “emperor” with a feminine ending: it meant, then, “empress.” But what did these puzzling remarks mean? Had the captors of the Jalathadar rechristened the vessel already?
While these questions revolved through my brain I was so positioned by those who held me that I faced the prow of the vessel. Within my sight was the door which led down to the private quarters of the captain. The door was familiar to me, of course, for I had passed through it many times. But now, gazing at it unthinkingly, it came to. my attention that something was strangely wrong with its appearance. Just what it was that seemed wrong I could not at first identify.