The Return of Tharn Part 11

"Lock your arms about my neck," he said.

There was wonder and doubt in Trakor's expression as understanding came to him. But such was his faith and confidence that he did not hesitate to comply with the order.

And once more Trakor, heart in his mouth, rode the skyway. Where before the awful depths had sent cold fear to his core, he was now confident and unafraid; yet actually the danger of plunging earthward was far greater this time. Bough after bough bent perilously beneath their triple burden as Tharn threaded his way, like a tightrope artist, along them, held erect only by his uncanny sense of balance. Constantly he was forced to search out branches of sufficient strength, stepping out and onto them without the additional safety of a steadying hand hold.

Fifteen minutes of this was enough to satisfy him he was beyond any territory Gerdak's warriors would reach before dawn. The search would go on, of course, until Roban, dead or alive, was found; for he was son of a chief and not lightly to be abandoned.

Near the pinnacle of a towering tree Tharn lowered his two pa.s.sengers to adjoining branches. While Trakor watched, he removed Roban's gag, after warning him to utter no outcry on pain of instant death. The youth nodded violently in agreement, and for a moment he was unable to speak so cramped were his jaws.

Tharn glanced to where Trakor sat, an interested spectator to Roban's discomfiture. "This is the chief's son?"

Trakor nodded. "He is Roban."

Tharn turned his sharp eyes to the captive, who was glowering at him in mingled fear and hatred, and said:

"A few suns ago you saw a party of Ammadians scaling the cliffs near your caves. Exactly where was this?"

Roban scowled unpleasantly. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"You know well enough. Answer me or die!"

"You would not dare kill me," Roban bl.u.s.tered. "I am Gerdak's son.

Unless you let me go at once he will come with many warriors and hunt you down. He will kill you, but not quickly. First he will take his knife and...."

He broke off suddenly, gasping as Tharn's fingers bit into his skinny shoulder. "I, too, can use a knife! Answer my questions quickly or I will prove it to you!"

Roban licked dry lips. "What do you want to know?" he mumbled.

"The exact spot where the Ammadians climbed those cliffs."

"What are Ammadians?"

Tharn described them in a few words and Roban nodded grudgingly. "Yes, I saw them. There is a place in the cliffs, a sun's march to the west of my father's caves, where a river tumbles over the edge. It was there they climbed the cliffs."

"He is lying!" Trakor exclaimed. "At the cooking fires he said it was east of our caves."

Roban's small eyes, evil and ratlike, swung toward him. "Your mother was a hyena! Wait till my father gets his hands----"

Tharn shook him until his teeth rattled. "Where?" he growled. "The truth this time or I throw you to a lion!"

The words tumbled out. "Half a march to the west. There is a low point in the cliff there, making it easy to climb. They are not good climbers; it took them a long time to----"

"Were there shes with them?"

"Shes?" The youth's beady eyes flickered. "I--I cannot say. I did not see----"

Tharn shook him again. "Enough of your lies!" he thundered. "How many shes were with them?"

"T-t-two." Roban was thoroughly frightened now. "I saw no others, although there may have----"

"Describe them."

"One had black hair; the other's hair was the color of Dyta, the sun, as he seeks his lair for the night. Both were very beautiful, although the black-haired she was less beautiful."

Tharn's chest swelled with elation. At last he had found the trail of Dylara and those who held her. He was eager to be on his way, flying through the trees to wrest her from the Ammadians. They were only five suns ahead--a distance he could cover in a quarter that time....

His gray eyes went to where Trakor sat watching him. As those eyes met his, the youth smiled. "The golden-haired one must be Dylara," he said.

"Your search is nearly ended, Tharn. Hurry on to her."

The cave lord caught the faint note of sadness in the young man's voice and his admiration for the lad went still higher. Even as he was urging Tharn to go on without him it was with the knowledge that were the cave lord to do so it would mean Trakor's doom. Trakor could not now return to the caves of Gerdak without being slain on sight; yet to remain alone in the jungle would mean certain death.

Tharn rose to his feet on a swaying branch, light from the moon picking out his slow smile. "Come, Trakor," he said. "We must reach that point at the cliff before dawn."

Trakor offered a protest. "But I will only slow--"

In reply Tharn picked him bodily from the branch and placed him across his shoulder, hearing the young man's sigh of relief as he did so.

"But what about me?" cried Roban. "You can not leave me here!"

Tharn looked at him in simulated surprise. "Have you forgotten? Your father is coming with many warriors to hunt me down. You, yourself, have said so. Wait for them here."

"But Tarlok may find and eat me!"

"Even Tarlok does not stoop to carrion," Tharn pointed out. Before Gerdak's son could reply, Tharn and Trakor were gone into the inky depths below.

CHAPTER VI

JALTOR'S DECISION

Knuckles pounding heavily against his door awakened Garlud, n.o.bleman of Ammad. There was an urgency in the sound that brought him bolt upright from his pillow in alarm.

"Who's there?" he called out.

"Open!" thundered a heavy voice. "Open in the name of Jaltor of Ammad!"

Hardly able to believe his ears Garlud left his bed and groped for the brazier of coals kept in one corner of the room. Igniting a tallow-soaked bit of cloth from it, he lighted two of the room's candles, crossed to the door and unbarred it.

Four stalwart warriors wearing the tunics of Jaltor's personal guard pushed into the room, leaving Garlud's major-domo, who had brought them there, hovering anxiously outside. At sight of the latter's worried face Garlud smiled a rea.s.surance he was far from feeling and said, "Return to your bed, Bokut. I will see my visitors to the door when they are ready to leave."

He closed the door on Bokut's unrelieved expression and turned to Jaltor's men. One of them he recognized immediately as Curzad, captain of the king's guard, whose strong intelligent face was set in grim lines.

"Well, Curzad," Garlud said lightly, "your expression is forboding enough to put fear in the bravest of men. What errand brings you here?"