I guessed that because Pandar was with them, they would go direct to Phundahl where Pandar might succeed in having them received as friends; and so I planned to follow them to Phundahl, no matter what the cost. I felt within me the strength of a hundred men, the power to demolish a whole army single-handed, and to raze the walls of the strongest city.
At last we were ready to depart; but before we left I had one precaution to take. Beneath rocks and brush and dirt, I hid the entrance to the tunnel leading back to the room where Vor Daj’s body lay.
Sytor had appropriated the larger boat, which was far more commodious for three people than would have been the smaller, but it was also heavier and there were only two men to paddle it, while in our lighter craft there were three of us.
Gan Had, Tun Gan, and myself; so notwithstanding the fact that they had three days start of us, I felt that it was within the realm of possibility that we might overtake them before they reached Phundahl. This, however, was only a hope since it would be by the merest chance that we should follow the same course taken by them through the maze of winding waterways that lay between us and our destination. It was entirely possible that we might pass them without being aware of it. Either party might follow some fair-appearing stretch of water only to discover that it came to a blind end, necessitating the retracing of weary miles, for the wastes of the Toonolian Marshes are uncharted and were wholly unfamiliar to every member of both parties. Being accustomed to observing terrain from the air, I had obtained a fair mental picture of the area over which we had flown when the hormads had flown us to Morbus upon the backs of their malagors, and I had no doubt but that Sytor had flown over the district many times. However, I had little reason to believe that these facts would advantage either of us to any great extent, as from the surface of the water one’s view was constantly obstructed by the vegetation which grew upon the surface of the marsh and by numerous islands, large and small.
My heart was indeed heavy as I set out in pursuit of Sytor; first, by my doubts as to the loyalty of Janai, and, second, because I was forced to abandon my own body and go into the world in the hideous disguise of a hormad. Why should I pursue Janai, who, listening to Sytor and believing him above me, had deserted me, may only be explained by the fact that I was in love with her, and that love makes a fool of a man.
We set forth after dark that we might escape detection from Morbus. Only Cluros, the smaller and farther moon, was in the sky, but it lighted our way sufficiently; and the stars gave us our direction, my prodigious strength adding at least two more man-power to the paddles. We had determined to push on both by day and by night, each obtaining what sleep he required, by turn, in the bottom of the boat. We had plenty of provisions, and the speed at which we could propel the canoe imbued us with the hope that we could escape the attack of any unfriendly natives who might discover us.
The first day a flock of malagors flew over us, traveling in the direction of Phundahl. We were concealed from them by the overhanging brush of a narrow canal we were traversing; but they were plainly visible to us and we could see that each malagor carried a hormad warrior astride his back.
“Another raiding party,” commented Gan Had.
“More likely a searching party that Ay-mad has dispatched in pursuit of us,” I said, “for he must have discovered that we have escaped from Morbus.”
“But we escaped weeks ago,” said Tun Gan.
“Yes,” I agreed, “but I have no doubt but that during all this time he has been sending searching parties in all directions.”
Gan Had nodded. “Probably you are right. Let us hope that they do not discover any of us, for if they do we shall go to the vats or the incinerator.”
On the second day after we had entered a fair-sized lake, we were discovered by savages who dwelt upon its shores. They manned a number of canoes and sallied forth to intercept us. We bent to our paddles, and our little craft fairly skimmed the surface of the water; but the savages had taken off from a point on the shore slightly ahead of us, and it seemed almost a certainty that they would reach us before we could pass them. They were a savage lot; and as they came closer, I saw that they were stark naked, their bushy hair standing out in all directions, their faces and bodies painted to render them more hideous even than Nature had intended them to be. They were armed with crude spears and clubs; but there was nothing crude about the manner in which they handled their long canoes, which sped over the water at amazing speed.
“Faster!” I urged. And with every stroke our canoe seemed to leave the water, as it sprang ahead like a living thing.
The savages were yelling now in exultation, as it seemed certain that they must overhaul us; but the energy that they put into their savage cries had been better expended on their paddles, for presently we passed their leading boat and commenced to draw away from them. Furious, they hurled spears and clubs at us from the leading boat; but they fell short, and it was soon obvious that we had escaped them and they could not overtake us. They kept on however for a few minutes, and then, with angry imprecations, they turned sullenly back toward shore. It was well for us that they did so, for Gan Had and Tun Gan had reached the limit of their endurance, and both sank exhausted into the bottom of the canoe the moment that the savages gave up the pursuit. I felt no fatigue, and continued to paddle onward toward the end of the lake. Here we entered a winding canal which we followed for about two hours without further adventure. The sun was about to set when we heard the flapping of great wings approaching from ahead of us.
“Malagors,” said Tun Gan.
“The searching party returns,” remarked Gan Had; “with what success, I wonder.”
“They are flying very low,” I said. “Come, pull ashore under those bushes. Even so, we shall be lucky if they do not see us.”
The bushes grew at the edge of a low, flat island that rose only a few inches above the surface of the water. The malagors passed over us low, and circled back.
“They are going to alight,” said Tun Gan. “The hormads do not like to fly at night, for the malagors do not see well after dark, and Thuria, hurtling low above them, frightens and confuses them.”
We were all looking up at them as they passed over us, and I saw that three of the malagors were carrying double.
The others noticed it too, and Gan Had said that they had prisoners.
“And I think that one of them is a woman,” said Tun Gan.
“Perhaps they have captured Sytor and Pandar and Janai.”
“They are alighting on this island,” said Gan Had. “If we wait until it is dark, we can pass them safely.”
“First I must know if one of the prisoners is Janai,” I replied.
“It will mean death for all of us if we are discovered,” said Tun Gan. “We have a chance to escape, and we cannot help Janai by being captured ourselves.”
“I must know,” I said. “I am going ashore to find out; if I do not return by shortly after dark, you two go on your way, and may good luck attend you.”
“And if you find that she is there?” asked Gan Had.
“Then I shall come back to you and we shall set out immediately for Morbus. If Janai is taken back, I must return too.”
“But you can accomplish nothing,” insisted Gan Had. “You will be sacrificing our lives as well as yours, uselessly. You have no right to do that to us when there is no hope of success. If there were even the slightest hope, it would be different; and I, for one, would accompany you; but as there is no hope, I flatly refuse. I am not going to throw my life away on a fool’s errand.”