The eyes of Janchan were wide with disbelief.
“By the World Above, Karn! We have legends of such beings, but never had I dreamed to meet a creature of myth in the very flesh! Does he understand our language?”
I am unfitted with the organs of vocal speech. Zarqa made his own reply to the question. The mode of converse we employ is that of mind to mind.
Janchan swore at the uncanny sensation, as the vibrations of an alien brain sounded among the cells of his own brain.
I know that to your eyes I appear strange and monstrous and malformed, the Winged One said wryly. But fear me not, Prince Janchan, for consider—you seem to me every bit as strange of form as I must seem to you. Yet are we comrades, sharing imprisonment in common; let us be friends.
“With all my heart,” Janchan swore feelingly. “And forgive me if my reaction to your appearance seemed insulting. Recall, that I knew not of your existence and coming upon you in this manner took me by surprise.”
I observed curiously the effects the golden mead were having on poor Zarqa. He had been gaunt to the point of emaciation, his elongated fleshless limbs scarce more than skin and bones, his purple eyes dim and lusterless and enormous in his pinched, hollow-cheeked visage. But the mead was acting as a miraculous restorative. Almost visibly, his attenuated limbs filled out, developing healthy sinews. Brilliance shone in his enormous eyes, and the dull, dry condition of his leathery skin changed rapidly, as his pale golden hide became moist and supple and resilient. The golden mead must be some artificial tonic nutriment, with enormously concentrated food value. In no time, Zarqa was striding about the laboratorium with a swinging stride, his strength nearly normal.
We should be gone from this place within the hour, my friends, said Zarqa. The hybrid predators which infest the lower levels are not our only danger; Hoom of the Many Eyes will swiftly be apprised of the destruction of his rival, and will come hither from his Opal Spire in all haste, so as to inherit as much of the equipment of Sarchimus as possible.
“There is sense in what you say,” Janchan admitted.
“But Zarqa,” I protested, “the Scarlet Pylon is your home; why should you be driven from it, to follow us into the unknown dangers of the forest?”
The Kalood shrugged high bony shoulders.
Never can I be at peace here again, now that the men of your race such as Sarchimus and his kind have made of Sotaspra their domain. Perhaps it is time for me to let the past go, and venture out into the greater world beyond. If so, I can do no better than to make the first of my new purposes in life to be of assistance to you, Karn, and to your friend, to aid you in returning to your homes. There is nothing for me here in Sotaspra, anymore…
We left the laboratorium and went up to the crest of the Scarlet Pylon. The last, level beams of daylight struck through the great canopies of leaves, touching them to burning green-gold, and gilding the corrugated surfaces of the enormous branches. Soon, darkness would come down upon the World of the Green Star. But by then we hoped to be aloft.
We found the skysled where Sarchimus had left it, moored to the upper tier. A hangar-like structure protected it from the elements, and the aerial contrivance was powered and ready for flight.
Returning to the apartments below, we rumaged about, Janchan and I, selecting garments. The science magician had stripped me bare and, in the ensuing events, I am afraid I had forgotten my nakedness. Now I searched the closets, finding warriors’ gear, a simple leathern tunic, girdle, cloak, and boots. From the armamentarium of the savant, Janchan and I selected weapons. I took a curved scimitar while he chose a slim rapier of glassteel, and we both attached the scabbards of broad-bladed daggers to our trappings. I took the precautions of filling my pocket-pouch with coins from the savant’s store. These were of unfamiliar mintage, and cast in the rare, precious metals of the Laonese; a brilliant blue metal they call jaonce, a gleaming black metal, heavy as lead, they term arbium, and a sparkling transparent metal, clear as crystal, called kaolon.
The Laonese metals, incidentally, are extremely rare since the folk of this world never, or very seldom, dare to descend to the floor of their worldwide forest, as those gloomy precincts are the haunt of terrible and legendary monsters. Instead, they distill—as it were—their precious metals from minute traces suspended in the sap of the mountainous trees wherein they dwell. The process is laborious and the metals thus derived, by consequence, far more costly then Terrene gold or silver.
Having filled my pouch, I rejoined Prince Janchan, who had assumed warriors’ raiment similar to mine. We bundled up food supplies, dried meats, preserved meats, dried fruits a jug or two of wine, loaves of a peculiarly nutritive black bread, and several canteens of fresh water. Then we ascended for the second time to the roof of the tower and began storing these supplies in a storage compartment Janchan found in the rear of the sled. Zarqa had gone below with us, but had vanished about business of his own, and had not yet rejoined us. Janchan fidgeted restlessly, eager to be off.
“Where is your winged friend, Karn? Night is almost upon us, and I would like to be far from the Dead City before darkness makes further flight hazardous.”
Even as he spoke, Zarqa came into view carrying a number of objects, which he began stowing away in the side compartments of the flying sled.
“Zarqa, what are these?” I asked.
Merely a few articles salvaged from the possessions of Sarchimus, who no longer has any need for them, he said. I thought they might prove useful to us on our journey. Among these was a capacious robe or burnoose woven of synthetic plastic fiber shot through with a web of silvery metallic threads, which Zarqa termed a Weather Cloak. The other articles he named as a vial of Liquid Flame, a coil of Live Rope similar to that from which the science magician had fashioned my collar, and a floating luminous sphere called a Witchlight.
I have also taken the precaution of bringing along the savant’s zoukar, he said, displaying the metal-capped crystal rod with whose captive lightnings Sarchimus had slain the poisonous phuol. Swords are a primitive kind of weaponry, he explained, and my people have always preferred to slay from a distance, wherever possible.
Janchan surveyed this magical gear dubiously.
“Are we really going to need all these items?” he asked.
Zarqa shrugged, sealing the compartment.
Who can foretell what perils we shall encounter? he asked. The world is wide and has many dangers. And we shall be but three warriors against many.
“But you were gone long enough to have ransacked the tower from top to bottom,” I said.
Quite right; I had one further mission to accomplish, before we should leave this place forever. One further precaution I took, tend that was to render permanently inactive the menacing horde of death-dealing metal automatons Sarchimus had vitalized to further his dreams of empire.
“By the Green Star, I had forgotten all about them!” I swore.
I thought as much. Zarqa smiled. But it would have been folly to have disposed of Sarchimus, leaving his most dreadful weapons unharmed for Hoom of the Many Eyes to use in his turn. So I have smashed their brain crystals, one by one and destroyed the breeding vats with a potent acid. Also I released a second tube of Liquid Flame into the science magician’s study, saving the only other such for our future needs. The flames will devour all of the notes and formulas and manuscripts of Sarchimus. Without them, or a captive Kalood from whom to torture secrets, Hoom will find it impossible to rediscover the lost sciences, and will thus afford the world no peril such as Sarchimus would have done. And now, I think, we are ready to depart.