For the strands which composed the web were of the thickness of his little finger. And the imagination of Xask faltered before picturing the hugeness of the spider that had spun it ….

  This was exactly the sort of thing Darya had patiently been awaiting. The moment she saw the web she knew exactly what it was. It was the web of a vathrib-an albino spider, swollen to immense size. Such were not uncommonly found in her native country far down the coast of the sea from here.

  Caught in the adhesive strands, Xask kicked and struggled, which only served to entangle him more tightly. He shrilled to Fumio for assistance. The big man hesitated, then stepped forward—

  Darya kicked his feet out from under him.

  As he fell floundering in the bushes, the jungle girl darted away. Snatching the Professor by the arm, propelling him ahead of her, she sprinted across the clearing swift as a gazelle. Then she glided between the close-set boles of two trees, vanishing into the jungle gloom as if the darkness had swallowed her up. The Professor stumbled along, halfblind, through the blackness. Deftly, the Princess of Thandar guided him around obstacles unseen to him.

  Behind them, they could hear Fumio cursing wildly as he scrambled to his feet, and the shrill yelps of Xask as he kicked and struggled in the web. Then there came to the ears of the two in their flight a screech of pure terror.

  Darya smiled briefly to herself. In her far-off land, the vathrib grow to the size of human infants. That is not very large or intimidating, to be sure: but it is very large for a spider. And the vathrib is a ghastly thing to look upon, its swollen belly thick with sickly white fur, exuding a fetid stench, its drooling mandibles clacking greedily, fierce little mad eyes staring, soulless, filled with mindless hunger.

  It was the custom of the vathrib of the jungle country down the coast to hide in the leafy boughs above its web until an uld or some other small edible beast blundered into the sticky trap.

  Then the oversized albino spider leisurely clambered down its strand to feed.

  This must be what had happened in the clearing they left behind them, thought Darya, with cold amusement. And it served Xask and Fumio right!

  After a time, she paused to let the old scientist catch his breath, and to orient herself. Darya intended to circle around through the jungle, reentering the encampment before the cliffs. As she possessed that uncanny sense of direction which nature has bequeathed to her children in Zanthodon, this did not seem difficult to her.

  Alas, it proved more difficult than she had expected. And the reason for this was that when she had plunged into the jungle upon escaping from the clutches of Fumio, she had not taken the time to notice in which direction she was going. Soon she found herself thoroughly lost.

  So dense was the jungle at this part of it that Darya could not even estimate her location. She might be fifty yards from the clearing before the cliffs, or half a mile away. The girl strained her ears, but could hear nothing that denoted the presence of men. She did not dare call out, hoping that her voice might reach the ears of the warriors of the two tribes, who were surely searching the woods for her and the old man, since her call might reach other ears. And those other ears might well be those of Xask and Fumio, as for all she knew thay may have somehow survived the attack of the giant spider.

  She resolved to go forward warily, tracing a broad, circular route, while employing every keen sense to detect the nearness of men or beasts. If she could hear someone or something as it approached, she and Professor Potter could climb a tree and lie concealed on a branch above the jungle aisles, until the stranger revealed himself as either enemy or friend.

  Before long her sensitive ears did indeed detect the approach of an unknown jungle denizen. Perhaps many, for from the amount of noise there seemed to be several of them. She could hear as dry twigs snapped under their feet, as they went rustling through the fallen leaves, as they crept through the bushes.

  Touching the Professor’s arm to get his attention, she pointed to a great tree. Then she sprang up, seized one of the lower boughs, and swung herself into the foliage with the nimble agility of a young acrobat. Eyeing the tree limbs distrustfully, Professor Potter groaned to himself. He ached in every limb and muscle, and even in his hardy youth he had never been very good at climbing trees.

  Darya swung down to the sward again to give the old man a boost up. She just boosted him into the tree when three things happened at the same moment.

  There burst through the trees almost in front of her a band of swarthy, grinning men brandishing scimitars. Her heart sank, for she recognized them-the Barbary pirates, who had not, after all, given up their search for her. And Achmed ran gloating eyes over her; how pleased would be the reis Kairadine! For Achmed the Moor had watched as Xask and Fumio had carried her and the Professor off, and had followed with all dispatch, eager to seize the jungle girl his captain coveted.

  At the identical instant, One-Eye, with Murg cowering in his wake, lurched into the small clearing, saw Darya and lunged for her. Doubtless, it was his intent to seize and silence the two before they had time to utter any outcry which might apprise the pursuing panjani of their presence.

  The small, dim eyes of the hulking Neanderthal did not at once notice the Barbary pirates, for his gaze was fixed intently upon the girl alone. But they certainly noticed him.

  Uttering a startled oath, Achmed sprang forward and lunged with his blade. The point of the scimitar is not a good thrusting weapon; generally, you cut or slice with the edge. But, in a pinch, it can serve.

  The steel blade sank into the shaggy breast of One-Eye. Giving voice to a deep-chested, bestial roar, the Neanderthal swung with one huge hand, slapping the Moor aside. Then he lurched back, fumbling with numbed fingers for his stone axe. The blade of the scimitar was still sticking out of his burly chest. Gaze dimming, One-Eye blinked puzzledly down at the glittering thing. He tried to pull it out, but the strength was draining out of his massive arms, and his hands felt cold and lifeless.

  His thick, blubbery lips parted, revealing blunt and yellowed tusks. One-Eye tried to say something, but the power of speech had left him. Blood gushed from his open mouth and his one eye glazed, rolling up in his head, revealing the bloodshot white.

  Then he toppled over and lay without moving. For a time his huge breast rose and fell as he fought for breath. Then even that motion ceased and he lay still.

  Thus perished One-Eye of the Drugars, High Chief of the Apemen of Kor.

  And it was upon this astounding scene that Fumio came blundering. He stopped short, turning pale, and did not even try to resist as the corsairs sprang upon him and lashed his wrists behind his back. They bound Darya, too; and then the Barbary pirates led their captives off through the jungle in the direction of the coast and the lagoon, where their longboats still were moored.

  As for Murg, no one bothered to notice as he furtively slunk out of sight, concealing himself in the jungle.

  And as for the Professor, he clung for dear life to the branch of the tree. Darya had thrust him up just as the Barbary pirates appeared; concealed behind the thick foliage, clinging to the branch with all the strength in his skinny arms and legs, he perforce must watch as the young woman was led off by the corsairs. He was unable to interfere because he was unable to get down.

  How could he ever explain his inability to act in Darya’s defense to Eric Carstairs-the dear boy-he thought miserably as he hung upside down, waiting for the first monster to come along and have professor for lunch.

  Chapter 25. THE DRAGONMEN OF ZAR

  We began to emerge from the cavern city, our tasks there more or less accomplished. As things chanced, Hurok and I were among the first to return out of the hollow mountains. And when we came to the encampment, of course, we discovered everything in a turmoil. Nian and Yualla hastened to apprise us that Xask and Fumio had stolen away Darya and Professor Potter. They did not know either of the two men by name, but I recognized the villains from their descriptions. And my heart sank into my breast.

  I felt a little more optimistic as they told me how Ragor, Erdon and seven of the other warriors of Thandar and Sothar had pursued our stolen friends into the jungle. And from that venture they had not as yet returned.

  Garth and Tharn and the rest of the tribal warriors had not yet emerged from the cavern city. But I resolved not to waste precious time in delay, and to press on after Darya and her captors myself, with only my small war party. Instructing the folk of the encampment to apprise the two High Chiefs of what had transpired as soon as they reappeared, we caught up our weapons and vanished into the jungles.

  With Hurok and Jorn and Varak at my side, I knew that we had little to fear from the likes of Xask and Fumio.

  We spread out to comb the jungles, correctly guessing that Xask would have traveled in a straight line, making for the open country. It was Jorn who led the way; the keen eyes of the young huntsman easily followed the trail of the captives and their captors, spotting the imprint of Darya’s foot in the loam and even the mark of Fumio’s buskins.

  “How do you know they belong to Fumio?” I inquired. The blond boy grinned.

  “The stitching on the sole is after the fashion of the men of Thandar,” he pointed out. “The feet of the men of Sothar bear stitching after another mode.”

  We traversed the jungle with all possible speed. Entering a large glade, we stopped short at the sight of One-Eye’s huge, hairy carcass. I stooped to examine the corpse. He had not been dead for very long, for the blood upon his breast and beard was still wet.

  “Well, you old rogue,” I muttered, half affectionately, “you finally paid the price for your villainies, didn’t you?”

  I did not exactly mourn the passing of One-Eye; but somehow life would be a little less livelier here in Zanthodon without him.

  Just then a quavering voice came from the treetops.

  “I say, my boy, is that you?”

  “Doc!” I gasped. “What the hell are you doing up there?”

  With dignity he explained shortly that he was simply too old for these shenanigans. “Your young lady assisted me to ascend,” he said testily. “Once aloft, I found it impossible to descend again. Then the Barbary pirates appeared, slew that hulking brute over there, and carried off the young woman and that rascal Fumio.”

  I frowned, my face grim. I had a score or two to settle with Fumio; someday soon, please heaven, we would meet face to face.

  My warriors assisted the Professor out of his tree, and we continued our search in the direction which he informed us the pirates had taken. Before very long we came out of the jungle onto the shore of that little promontory, and there we found Ragor, Erdon, Warza, Parthon and the other warriors. They hailed us and we joined them.

  “Ragor, have you discovered any sign of the gomad Darya?” I demanded as we came up to them.

  “Alas, Eric Carstairs, they moved too swiftly for us to overtake them,” the warrior said grimly.

  I stifled a groan. Then I paused to look around me at the scene. There, of course, lay the lagoon and the glade and the river, with the Peaks of Peril beyond. It seemed to me that this small parcel of real estate had seen a lot more action than it deserved. In that stream Darya had bathed when first Redbeard had carried her off; from that copse of trees the aurochs had charged, scattered Xask, Fumio, One-Eye and me; there on that stretch of beach Jorn and the Professor had seen Darya carried aboard the corsair galley; farther up that curve of sand, Jorn and Darya had waded ashore after escaping from the pirates.

  An awful lot had happened in this particular piece of scenery.

  Well, the longboats were gone, but we found the place where they had been concealed. Jorn climbed a tall tree and reported that he could see the crimson sails of the Red Witch as she sailed farther up along the coast; undoubtedly, my beloved Princess and the villainous Fumio were captives aboard her.

  I resolved in my heart to follow that coast until I discovered the pirate stronghold, and to tear it apart stone by stone, if necessary, until I rescued my beloved.

  For I knew now that it was Darya whom I loved.

  I have known many women; I have loved only one.

  There came a slight disturbance from our rear. The bushes crackled, making my warriors spring about, javelins lifted. But it was only Murg. He was splashed with mud and filthy from crawling through the bushes, but he seemed unharmed. Whimpering, he related how he had followed One-Eye and been captured by him. Then he related an account of Darya’s capture by the corsairs that matched everything Professor Potter had told us.

  I was not particularly pleased to see Murg again, but what the hell. I had a lot more important things on my mind than one whining little Sotharian.

  “It will take us too long to retrace our way through the jungle and scale the line of cliffs to the other side,” I said to my warriors. “I mean to pursue the pirate ship to its home port, wherever in the vastness of Zanthodon that may be.”

  “And the warriors of Black Hair will accompany him, be it to the end of life itself,” grunted Hurok solemnly. I clapped him on one huge, apelike shoulder, not trusting myself to speak.

  “The only thing to do is to circle the promontory, keeping to the beach,” I said. “It’s the long way ‘round, I suppose, but it seems the best way to me.”

  “Eric Carstairs will lead and we, his warriors, will follow,” vowed Varak of Sothar. I nodded.

  “Let’s get going,” I said shortly.

  We trotted up the beach of the lagoon and, to make a long story short, followed the strand the length of the promontory, then back along its farther side, which none of us had yet seen. There was nothing else for Murg to do but trot along unhappily at our rear. I suppose he was reluctant to join in any enterprise so daring and perilous. On the other hand, he didn’t care to be left behind all alone. The last time he’d done that sort of thing he had been jumped by One-Eye. One-Eye was dead now, but, for people like Murg, the world is full of One-Eyes.

  On the far side of the promontory, the coast stretched away in a long curve. An immense grassy plain met our eyes, larger in its extent than the plain of the trantors on the other side of the Peaks of Peril. Far off beyond the plain, on the misty horizon, we saw dim islands in the sea of Sogar-Jad, and a line of mountains marching down the world. A green mass at the foot of those mountains could only be another sector of jungle country.

  “My chieftain, we can make better time by traversing these plains in a straight line than by following the coast of the sea,” suggested Jorn diffidently. “See how it curves upon itself.”

  I agreed instantly. If we crossed the plain in a straight line, we would reach the farther edge of the sea more swiftly than if we followed the meandering curve of the seacoast.

  After a very brief rest, we proceeded to do so.

  That Xask had survived the attack of the giant spider was due to his own cool nerves. When the shaggy horror had come picking its eight-legged way down the strands of the web, Fumio had turned pale as milk and bolted in pure fear.

  I suppose his cowardly reaction was, after all, only natural. Gone was his respect for his divinity: if God cannot get himself out of a spiderweb, what could a mere mortal like Fumio do?

  Xask had marshaled his strength and calmed his leaping pulse. Since it did no good to kick and struggle (that only enmeshed him the more tightly in the sticky strands), he would be wiser to apply common sense. Xask lifted his legs off the ground and folded them under him. His weight was slight, for he was a man of slender build, but he still weighed a lot more than the timid little uld for whom the web had been spun.

  In a word, the web sagged under the dead weight of the Zarian. The strands stretched; one or two of them snapped. Xask found himself lying on his back upon the sward with only his forearms still caught in the web. Using his feet, he kicked himself backwards until the web stretched even farther. Another strand snapped, then another. Eventually he was free.

  During these unexpected actions, the bloated albino spider had prudently ceased its descent. It hung there cautiously watching the strange actions of its prey. When that prey managed to disentangle itself from the web, the spider waited until the man-thing had vanished out of sight, then began patiently and philosophically to repair the damage done to its web.

  There will always be another uld, it probably thought to itself.

  Xask reached a jungle stream and washed himself, scraping his arms and legs free of the stickiness with handful: of gritty sand scooped from the bottom. Then he continued on through the jungle with extreme caution.

  When he emerged onto the beach, the first thing he saw was Eric Carstairs and his warriors circumambulating the promontory. It was still the desire of the Zarian to capture Eric Carstairs again, so that he could coax or threaten or pry from him the secrets of the thunderweapon which he still wore at his waist.

  So Xask, keeping well out of sight, simply followed our tracks.

  When he reached the plain beyond the promontory, our tracks abruptly ceased. It did not take Xask very long to figure out that we were traversing the plain in a straight line in order to save time. It puzzled the clever little Zarian, though. What did we think we were doing? Of course, Xask had no way of knowing about the Princess Darya or the Barbary pirates; but even if he had known, our actions would have remained incomprehensible to him.

  For what does a man like Xask know about the love between a man and a woman? All he is capable of feeling is the love of power.

  As there was nothing else for him to do, Xask followed us across the plain.

  We did not get very far. Intent on running and trying to conserve our strength, we were trotting along, not paying enough attention to the things in our immediate vicinity. This is usually a mistake anywhere; it is a real big mistake to make in Zanthodon. For the Underground World has more surprises than you can imagine.

  We ran into a herd of dinosaurs.

  They were very big dinosaurs, with long, curving necks and pebbled bronze-and-copper hides.

 

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