Part 12
Cabot’s Cupians stabbed and hacked and pulled. Occasionally an ant would turn and snap savagely at them. But one by one the black ant men were crushed and torn away, until at last the bottom of the pile was reached. There on the floor of the royal box lay a battered and bloody purple body, beside a gaping hole which clearly indicated the avenue of escape by which had disappeared Yuri and Formis, with Lilla as their prize. The floor of the box had evidently given way under the weight of the conflict, and through the hole, thus formed, the enemy had escaped.
Cabot and his immediate followers stared at this hole for a mere paraparth; then, realizing the situation, they plunged into the dark depths beneath. The drop was nearly half a parastad, but luckily the hole led into one of the cells for confining beasts of the arena, and the floor was covered deep with straw which broke their fall. The first few of the company jumped, and then called to their companions that it was all right; but those above delayed in following, for fear of landing on those below. And, during this moment of indecision, those in the cell suddenly found themselves set upon from all sides, for quite a number of ant men had fallen through with their leaders, and had remained behind to bar the passage.
The fighting was in nearly pitch darkness, but fortunately there was little danger of mistaking friends from foes, for huge ants ten feet long bear but little resemblance to Cupian beings, even in the dark. Nevertheless, the sharp mandibles of the Formians proved effective weapons at close quarters.
Those of the Cupians who had remained on the stand, hearing the shouts of the conflict below, poured into the hole with weapons poised, and struck home whenever they chanced to land upon an enemy.
Finally all was silence, but whether the Formians had all been slain or had merely retired to some nook from which to rush out again and renew the conflict, could not be told. There was no time, however, to stop and find out.
“Quick!” the earthman shouted, “we must follow the usurper!”
Whereat all the party started groping about to try and discover an exit.
A shout of “Here is the door!” from one of them, and all pressed in his direction, Cabot merely following with the crowd, since his antennae gave him no clue as to the source of the cry. The door opened into a passageway. In silence the party threaded the dim corridors beneath the stadium, until a sudden turn brought them out into the daylight, facing the city. And, as they debouched, they saw, just out of reach, a kerkool which bore Yuri, Formis and Lilla toward Kuana.
Out of the other exits were pouring a fighting, seething crowd of Cupians and Formians, as on that other day not so long ago, when Prince Yuri had assassinated King Kew at the Peace Day exercises, and had thus made himself King. But this time the red pennants of Kew outnumbered the yellow of Yuri and the black of Formis combined.
Other kerkools were standing beside the stadium. Without awaiting the outcome of the fighting, Cabot and those with him seized the nearest cars and sped after the fleeing king.
* * * * *
Straight for the palace drove Yuri, and straight for the palace drove his pursuers. Yuri arrived there first, entered the capitol ground and barred the gates, whereat the Kew faction surrounded the entire group of buildings on the top of Kuana hill. They were quickly augmented by the victorious reds from the stadium. Then Cabot and a handful of the more intrepid of his faction battered down one of the palace gates and forced their way inside.
As the door crashed in, the assaulting force was met by a volley of shots, but it had been a bit premature and so most of the bullets went wild. Within the doorway stood rank upon rank of the palace guard, Cupians of unquestioned loyalty to the usurper Yuri, his own personal bodyguard, who had been recruited from the unspeakables of the city by Trisp, the bar-mango of Kuana. They were armed with rifles.
But before they could recover from their surprise sufficiently to fire a second round, the assaulting party swept in and engaged them in hand to hand combat. Some of the guard possessed revolvers as well as the longer weapon, and so were able to defend themselves manfully at close range, but they were merely thugs who fought for the love of fighting, whereas the attackers were inspired by the enthusiasm of an ideal, the ideal of Cupian freedom which had been engendered by Cabot, the Minorian, in the first War of Liberation, and which now had been born anew in the second. Their onrush proved irresistible, and soon the few remaining survivors of Yuri’s guard had fled into the interior of the palace.
Myles and his men stripped the dead of their arms and ammunition, and followed. The grip of an automatic in Cabot’s hand gave him new courage.
“Forward for Princess Lilla!” he cried.
And his followers echoed, “For Princess Lilla! Death to the Formians!”
Thus shouting, they threaded their way through the palace corridors, hunting, ever hunting. Many a black antman they slew, and many a familiar spot they traversed, but not a sign did they find of Lilla or of her abductors.
The royal palace of Kuana is set upon the crest of Capitol Hill, in the midst of the group of monumental white buildings which comprise the far-famed University of Cupia. Its main elevation looks to the southward across the plaza to the fields and stadium and hills beyond. Surrounding the university group and the palace and the plaza, are the lesser buildings of Kuana, built in stucco in graceful lines, with high-pitched, red-tiled roofs, a style of architecture quite unlike that employed by the ant men, whose houses are square and chunky affairs, resembling exaggerated piles of toy building blocks.
Because the palace stands upon the summit of a hill, the ground entrances lead into what are practically its cellars; hence the interminable labyrinthine corridors which the earthman and his supporters now threaded. Every turn, every door, every side hallway had to be approached with utmost caution, to avoid a surprise attack; and at each intersecting or forking corridor, the party divided, so as to defend their flanks.
Thus the numbers with Cabot rapidly dwindled, and soon he found himself searching through the passageways alone. Now he had to proceed with even greater caution. No Cupians did he meet, but time and again, after rounding some turn or mounting some stair, he found himself face to face with a Formian. Usually he was quicker on the draw, for the human hand has a craft unequalled by the claw of an insect, even though the insect may possess a superior brain. Only one Formian whom he encountered fired first, and fortunately that one missed.
Thus, step by step, the earth man emerged from the subterranean depths of the palace cellars to the upper levels.
He had just annihilated one more black antagonist, when he saw approaching him a Cupian in a toga which bore the insignia of the palace guards. Here indeed was a victim greatly to his taste, for he had tired of killing ants, and longed to get his hands on some one closer to King Yuri.
But just as he was about to fire, the other spoke, “Stop, Cabot! Do you not know Nan-nan of the Caves of Kar?”
Cabot lowered his weapon in surprise.
“What are you doing here? And in that garb!” he exclaimed. “I scarcely recognize you without your red-embroidered robe.”
The young priest smiled. “Great are the ramifications of the lost religion. For instance, I might tell you who it was that loosed your pet woofus in the arena this morning when you appealed unto the God of Minos. But, for the present, my duty is merely to lead you to the princess. Follow me.”
And back he led Myles Cabot, down again into the depths from which the earth man had so laboriously fought his way. Finally they halted and the priest said:
“There are reasons why I cannot accompany you farther. But you can find the route from here to the princess without difficulty. First right, then left, then straight ahead. And may the Great Builder go with you! I cannot, for I have other work to do.”
And he passed Cabot and vanished down the long corridor.
* * * * *
Taking a firm grip on his revolver, Myles strode around the first turn to the right, then around the first turn to the left, and then pressed on until he found the way blocked by a thick heavy curtain. This he flung to one side, and stepped boldly into the room beyond.
The room beyond was circular, about one parastad in diameter. Its roof was vaulted and lit by a single large vapor lamp. A continuous stretch of crimson curtains lined the walls. At the opposite side of the room from that at which he had entered there was a small raised platform. And on this platform stood King Yuri, with Lilla held close in his arms. He was making ardent love to her, which she seemed too tired and beaten to resist. Yuri’s torn toga, and the deep scratches on one of his arms showed only too clearly the handiwork of the purple beast on the stands of the stadium. Or had Lilla done this?
“Stop!” Cabot thundered, covering the king with his revolver.
Yuri turned and faced his accuser, but still kept one arm around the princess, who stared at Cabot almost unseeing out of dull and weary eyes. The king appeared a bit surprised, but nevertheless maintained the calm which was so typical of him.
“Yuri, your end has come,” the earthman announced, “and with your death there begins a slaughter which shall not cease until every black Formian is driven from the face of this planet. For only so can war be banished forever.”
“Is that so?” sneered the king. “And may I ask who it was that first brought war here from Minos?”
Cabot winced. The accusation was true.
“That is neither here nor there,” he asserted. “Maybe I did bring war; but, if so, what I have commenced I shall finish.”
Yuri’s lip curled in scorn. “Behold, I am unarmed. Is it the custom on your planet to shoot down unarmed men? I had thought better, even of a beast from Minos.”
“If you thought so, then you made the mistake of your life,” Cabot replied. “I am no story-book character. Often have I read, in tales of chivalrous adventure, how the hero, having the villain finally at bay, gave him his chance, and then vanquished him in fair fight. If I had only myself to think of, O king, I would fling this gun aside, and strangle you with my bare hands. But what of the princess and of Cupia? I have no right to sacrifice Lilla’s happiness and the safety of my country on the altar of my own personal honor. That would be selfish indeed!”
“Wisely spoken,” the princess interjected.
“And so,” Myles continued, “armed or unarmed, you die!”
And he raised his pistol.
“Just a moment,” Yuri put in hurriedly, seeming for the first time a bit perturbed. “After you entered this chamber, a door automatically slid shut behind you, thus barring your exit. If you do not believe me, you can back up, still keeping me covered, and feel of it. That door is so thick and so secure that you could never break through it. I, and I alone, know the secret of that door. I am not afraid to die, though it is a bit unpleasant to be killed by a coward; but, unless you spare my life, neither you nor the princess will ever leave this room.”
“‘Better a wise coward than a brave fool,’” Myles quoted from one of Poblath’s proverbs.
“That may be,” the king testily resumed, “but, as I have said, if you kill me, you will never leave this room. Your only hope of escape is to spare my life.”
Cabot considered for a moment. Naturally he did not believe Yuri, yet how simple to test him by trying the door.
Just as he was about to do this, however, he remembered something.
“Your threat holds no terror for me,” he asserted. “Nan-nan directed me here. If I do not reappear, he will bring hordes of my followers to batter down your door.”
Yuri laughed a sneering laugh. “You lose! Did not this Nan-nan, of whom you speak, wear the uniform of my bodyguard?”
Cabot grudgingly admitted it.
“I thought so,” the usurper resumed in triumph. “Know then that I sent Nan-nan to lure you here, so that you might become my victim.”
The earthman’s suspicions were aroused. Whom could he trust? Then he reflected that Yuri was unarmed, which fact seemed to knock the bottom out from under his story. An unarmed person would scarcely have given orders to have an armed person sent to him as a prospective victim.
Why not try the door, however? That would determine in a measure whether Yuri lied. But as Myles started to put this plan into effect, he was stayed by the sound of a human voice, a strange and raucous human voice.
Could he be dreaming? Had his mind given way under the strain of his many vicissitudes? For there were no human voices on Poros.
Yet there could be no mistaking the sound. It was not the radiated antennae speech of Poros. It was a real human voice smiting against his human ears. Cabot stood still in perplexity.
XIX
TREACHERY
“Myles,” said the voice, “show no signs of surprise. It is I, Lilla, speaking to you with my mouth, so that the antennae of Yuri may not hear. Neither can I hear, myself, which makes it difficult for me to talk thus, in spite of all my secret practice. Do not back up, to try the door, for there is a man behind you in the curtains. Remain where you are. When I raise my hand, you must wheel and fire. Then turn quickly back, lest Yuri escape us.”
Cabot stood aghast. He scarce took in the purport of the words. Was that raucous sound the voice of his lovely Lilla? Better, then, she stick to antennae speech for the rest of her days!
But there could be no doubt about it, for her lips were moving with the words.
Then up shot her arm. Instantly Cabot realized what she had said. He wheeled just in time to see a Cupian separate the curtains and make a rush at him. This newcomer wore the uniform toga of the palace guards, and held in his upraised left hand a sharp stiletto. How fortunate that it had not been a revolver, for with such a weapon he could have fired at Myles from behind the curtains.
The face of the onrushing Cupian was a snarl of hatred and triumph, and full into that hideous countenance Cabot fired. The expression changed to one of surprise and thwarted rage. One frantic final effort to reach forward with the dagger, and then the enemy collapsed almost at the feet of his intended victim. Cabot wheeled again to fire at the king.
But Lilla stood alone on the platform. Yuri was no longer there. A faint swaying of the curtains behind the rostrum showed only too clearly the king’s avenue of escape. Rushing forward, Cabot flung these curtains to one side and disclosed a long, dimly lighted corridor stretching away. It was empty. Yuri had quite evidently already rounded the turn at its end. So after him dashed the earthman. But a cry from Lilla’s antennae stayed his steps.
“Don’t leave me alone!” she begged. “I am weak and tired and affrighted. Protect me!”
Once again she was merely a little girl. Her husband returned and comforted her. Then together they searched the walls of the room.
Yuri had lied. Behind the curtains were many exits, and not one was closed. But, then, Yuri might be expected to lie. What mattered it to Myles and Lilla as they clasped each other in their arms? At last they were together and free after their long separation and captivity.
As Myles held close the warm girlish form of his beloved, his tense troubles dropped from him, and a perfect peace descended upon his soul. Lilla pressed limply against him, home at last in the haven of his embrace.
Thus they replighted their love. Thus they stood in the subterranean cellars of the Kuana Palace, oblivious of time and space; Cabot, the earth man, dirty, long-haired, bearded, and disheveled; and Lilla, Princess of Poros, lovely, dainty, and immaculate. Beauty and the beast, indeed! But they adored each other, with a love unequaled on two planets.
Myles was reunited with his princess, it is true; but there should have been three of them there instead of merely two. All through the fabric of his joy ran a thread of intense grief at the absence of their little son.
“Lilla, dearest,” he started to say, “our darling baby—”
He was interrupted by the arrival of Nan-nan, the young priest, who had shed his palace guard uniform and now wore an ordinary Cupian toga.
Said Lilla, hurriedly: “Please, please don’t mention it yet!”
Myles thought he understood how she felt about it, and so desisted. Probably her grief was still too poignant to bear discussion. He little guessed that her real reason was that she did not know how much confidence to place in this newcomer.
“Lilla,” Cabot said, “this is Nan-nan, one of the priests of the Caves of Kar, who tended me during all my illness.”
The priest bowed low before her in acknowledgment of the introduction.
“You forget, dear,” Lilla declared, “that you haven’t yet told me a single thing of what has happened to you since you left Luno Castle half a year ago to fly to the Peace Day exercises, which turned out so fatally.”
“When have I had time?” Myles asked, in reply. “Let’s sit right down here and begin.”
But Nan-nan cut in with: “Pardon me for interrupting, O princess, and thou, O defender of the faith. But there is much work to be done. It is now night. There is fighting in the streets. You must consolidate the palace, Cabot, and hold it until your army from the north can reach Kuana.”
“But what of Yuri?” asked Myles. “We must run him down before he escapes us, or there will be more villainy afoot.”
Nan-nan laughed. “You yourself don’t seem to be doing very much running just this moment. But compose yourself. In spite of your many followers, who at this moment swarm every corridor of this palace, none of them dared lay hands on the person of the king. Word has just reached me that he has safely left the building, and this is why I have sought you out. Your men are now gathering in the Council Hall above.”
“Then lead to the Council Hall, Nan-nan, and I follow,” the earthman replied.
* * * * *
As the three of them entered the great Council Hall of the palace they found it filled with a jostling leaderless throng of Cupians.
Nan-nan mounted the rostrum and held up his hand. The crowd faced him and became silent.
“Patriots of Kuana,” he shouted, “I present to you your leader, Myles Cabot, the beast from Minos, protector of Cupia.”
Up shot every hand.
“Yahoo!” they radiated, in unison, the cheery Porovian greeting.
“And your rightful ruler, the Princess Lilla.”
Again the salute and the shout of greeting.
Cabot then joined the young priest upon the stage. In spite of his condition, there was a look in his cold gray eyes that inspired confidence and respect.
“Men of Cupia,” he said, “and I can call you by no more noble title—men of Cupia, to the northward lies our army of liberation, equipped with the most modern engines of destruction. We must hold this city until they arrive. And then we must keep on until the last Formian lies dead. There is no room on any one planet for two ruling races. So it must be war to the hilt, asking no quarter, giving none, until the Kew dynasty is restored to the throne, and Cupia is made permanently free. Are you with me?”
“We are,” came back the unanimous shout.
“Then every pootah hold up his hand.”
Up shot the hands of all those who had commanded the old “hundreds”, or athletic clubs, which Cabot had used as military companies, and on which he had based the organization of the first army which Cupia had ever known.
“Good!” said he. “Let the pootahs step over to me.”
They did so.
“Now let every bar-pootah hold up his hand.”
Up shot the hands of all the lieutenants.
“Let each pootah choose two bar-pootahs.”
The choices were quickly made, and thus the earthman had established the skeleton framework of an army.
“Are there any of the higher officers here?”
One colonel and several men of intermediate grade signified their persons. A colonel is one who commanded a “thousand”—that is to say, a body composed of twelve of the hundreds. I perforce use the earth word “colonel,” as the Porovian term is utterly unpronounceable. The colonel gave his name as Wotsn.
Cabot divided the non-officers by lot among the various pootahs. In a few moments the disorderly mob was organized. To Colonel Wotsn was intrusted the disposition of the troops and the posting of guards. Then Cabot, Lilla, and Nan-nan proceeded to one of the upper terraces to get a view of the city.
The night was warm, tropical, moist, and scented, as are all nights on Poros. Beneath them on every side were dotted the street lights of the great city. All was so peaceful and serene that it hardly seemed possible they could actually be at this very moment in the midst of a civil war.
Myles inhaled the fragrant hothouse air with long breaths. The princess leaned against him in perfect contentment as he quoted:
“And over all, as soft as thine own cheek, Brooded the velvet stillness of the night.”
From time to time Cabot’s earthly ears discerned faint popping noises here and there throughout the capital. It sounded, for all the world, like the night before the Fourth of July in any American city; but Myles realized full and well that it meant that shooting was in progress between the opposing factions. These were not firecrackers—this was war!
Even so, what could they do about it just then?
So the love-starved earthman held his princess close in his arms and waited.
Finally he had an idea; so he dispatched one of the orderlies, who had followed them to the roof, to instruct the colonel to send out patrols into the streets to gather in more of their supporters. Then ensued another period of waiting, during which Myles Cabot and his princess sat side by side on the parapet of the terrace surveying the city below and saying very little. For, “Perfect communion needs no speech,” as Poblath would put it.
At last Lilla broke the silence to remark: “Now would be a very good opportunity to tell me of your adventures.”
He was glad of the chance, for by starting at the very beginning with the assassination of the old king in the stadium, he hoped to be able to lead up gradually to the sad death of little Kew. It would be well, for undoubtedly her grief would continue to fester within her heart until she had discussed it and thus given it an outlet.
So Myles recounted the inception of the revolution, and the first part of his age-long journey northward. He had just reached the point where he had abandoned his kerkool and had taken refuge in a house at the end of a blind alley, when Nan-nan interrupted to direct their attention to the northward, where waving phosphorescent streamers of light began to appear on the horizon.
“Northern lights,” thought Myles. He had never observed this phenomenon before on Poros.
“Airplanes,” the priest laconically remarked. “Your fleet is driving the enemy flyers southward toward Kuana. Those are the searchlights of the contenders.”
And he was right, for in a few paraparths the fighting was directly over the city. But what puzzled the observers on the palace top was the fact that many of the contending planes and all of the contending bees appeared to carry no searchlights. No, that wasn’t exactly correct—they carried searchlights, but these were unlit. Not an air fighter on the Cupian side was directing a single beam on the enemy; whereas each of the ant flyers carried a light on a long pole, which it could project in any direction so that the light would not reveal the true position of the craft.