The Return of Tharn Part 37

"It is I--Tharn, son of Tharn, the cave man. Have you forgotten the times we have met in the past?"

Recognition dawned in Jotan's expression. "Of course! You are the man who claimed Dylara belonged to you."

"And she still belongs to me," Tharn said quietly.

"She lives?" Even the absence of more than dim light could not hide the sudden hope flaring in the young n.o.bleman's eyes.

Tharn nodded. "Even now she is held prisoner by the man who has plotted against you."

Jotan stiffened. "You mean Vokal? How do you know this?"

Tharn, with a few terse words, explained what had taken place at Vokal's palace only a few short hours before. When he finished, Jotan was ready to start out for that n.o.bleman's palace, alone if necessary, to rescue her. But others of the group remonstrated, pointing out the rashness of such a move. As they stood there arguing the point, Tharn's clear voice brought them into silence once more.

"There are too few of you to march against Vokal," he pointed out. "But all around you are men who are no better than dead as long as they remain behind bars. Free them, arm them with the weapons of the guards attached to this wing of Jaltor's palace, and they will march with you to overcome your enemy."

The idea caught instant hold. Moments later the group of fifty had swollen to three times that number as cell after cell of the lower three levels of Jaltor's pits were emptied.

There were some of the prisoners who held back, preferring to remain behind bars rather than become involved in a war between n.o.blemen; while others had spent too long below ground to be little more than empty sh.e.l.ls of men.

It was on the fourth level that they found several rooms furnished as quarters for the guards stationed in this wing of the palace. An ante-room contained a large supply of spears, bows and arrows and knives, but guards were on duty at that point, while a dozen others slept in the adjoining room.

After a brief council of war, it was decided that Tharn and Trakor would attempt to creep up on the two guards on duty just within the entrance to the arms-room and overpower them without permitting an alarm to be given. Should they succeed in doing this, it would be a simple matter to bar the only exit to the sleeping quarters, thus effectively keeping Jotan's men from being surprised from the rear by Jaltor's warriors.

While the embryo army waited on the level below, Tharn and young Trakor crept up the next ramp and moved stealthily toward their goal. Almost at once Trakor returned, a broad grin creasing his face, and beckoned the others to join him.

They found both guards bound and gagged, the door into the guard's quarters closed and barred, and weapons enough for an army at their disposal. With m.u.f.fled cries of joy the men swept up bows, arrows, spears and knives; and what a few minutes before had been an unarmed mob was now a small compact army of disciplined men, ready to win amnesty and a n.o.bleman's favor by helping to expose a traitor.

So great was the excitement, so strong the exultation of them all, that none noticed one of the recently freed prisoners detach himself from the group and steal back into the corridor. An instant later this man was fleeing rapidly up the final ramp, on his way to freedom.

For more than an hour now the palace and grounds of Vokal, n.o.bleman of Ammad, had been the scene of great activity. Every guard, every servant, scoured the four floors and palace grounds, inch by inch, in search for the girl who had fled Vokal's room.

While seemingly everywhere at once, the silver-haired n.o.bleman spurred them on, his calmness gone, his eyes wild, fear riding him hard. He alone of them all knew what it would mean for him were this girl to escape and find her way to Jaltor with the knowledge she had gained while lurking on the balcony outside his private suite.

He was standing now in a room on the first floor, giving directions to Ekbar, captain of his guards, when one of the warriors pushed through the crowded room, a stranger at his heels.

"Your pardon, Most-High," said the guard, "but this man came to our gates a moment ago and demanded to see you. He says he has important information that is for your ears alone."

Vokal, turning to order the man aside, stopped and stared. The stranger was tall and little more than a skeleton. His hair hung in long strands to his shoulders and a heavy beard covered his face. Among a race of men who permitted no hair to mask their countenances, the beard alone made him worthy of attention.

"Who are you," Vokal snapped, "and what do you want of me?"

"I am Tarsal," croaked the stranger, "once guard in your service. Many moons ago I fought with one of Jaltor's guards and slew him. Since that day I have been confined in the pits of Ammad's king."

Ekbar, who had been staring at the man closely while he was speaking, nodded. "He tells the truth, Most-High. I recognize him now."

"What do you want of me?" Vokal said again, his voice shrill with impatience.

"I came to warn you," Tarsal said. "Garlud and Jotan, his son, have escaped from their cells and have gathered together a small army taken from Jaltor's pits. They say that it was because of you that Garlud and Jotan were imprisoned by Jaltor, and they are coming to capture you and take you before the king."

The n.o.bleman's skin turned a dirty white. This was ruin for him! Wildly he sought to think of some way by which he could escape Jaltor's wrath, once the truth came out.

"What are the plans of this mob?" he demanded. "Do they expect to win Jaltor's support in the fight against me?"

"Not that I know of, Most-High. They spoke of stealing from the palace and marching here to take you captive and bring you before Ammad's king that he may hear the truth from your own lips."

Vokal's brain was working with cold precision. There was a way out, then! Were he and his warriors able to ambush this gang of prison rats, able to wipe them out to the last man, there would be none left alive to tell Jaltor what they had hoped to accomplish.

All thoughts of the mysterious young woman who had raced from his apartment earlier that night were forgotten as he whirled about to confront the open-mouthed Ekbar.

"There is still time," he cried, "to save ourselves. Listen to me closely, Ekbar, and do exactly as I say!"

As the heavily armed force of perhaps one hundred and fifty men entered one of Ammad's broad avenues no more than two blocks from Vokal's palace, Jotan called it to a halt while the leaders conferred.

Five men comprised the leadership of the relatively small army. They were Jotan and his father, Tamar, Tharn and young Trakor. Almost from the first it was Tharn to whom the others turned for guidance, despite the fact that he was a complete stranger to Ammad.

"How many men," Tharn asked, "are likely to be defending Vokal's palace?"

"No less than five hundred," Jotan said grimly. "We shall be badly outnumbered my friend."

"We have something on our side worth hundreds of warriors," Tharn observed. "Surprise is our biggest and best ally. If we can win our way into Vokal's palace and reach the quarters of Vokal himself before his guards are sufficiently alerted to interfere, the fight will be over before it begins."

"And how do you propose this shall be done?"

Tharn rubbed his chin while his quick mind reviewed the situation. "I think," he said finally, "That it would be better if Trakor and I went ahead and removed the guards outside the wall gates. Then our entire force can enter the grounds themselves and hide in the shrubbery there until a door at the rear of the palace can be unbarred. It might serve us best if Trakor and I go directly to Vokal's room and take him captive before we give the signal for the rest of you to enter."

Garlud was shaking his head. "No. That is risking too much. If the two of you were captured, the entire palace would be alerted before the rest of us could put a foot inside it. Then indeed would we be helpless; Vokal's men could cut us down from the safety of the palace walls."

The five stood there in the silent sleeping street, stone walls rising steep and bleak on either side, the entire army behind them hidden from chance view by the almost total lack of light. There was less than two hours remaining before dawn and they must act quickly or lose their chief aid: the darkness of the now moonless night.

It was finally decided that Tharn and Trakor, as a tribute to their superior experience in tracking down the most wary of prey, were the ones to remove the guards outside at least two of the gates in Vokal's wall of stone.

And so it was that the two Cro-Magnards stole away into the darkness, armed with arrows and bow and two good flint knives.

Half an hour later both were back, reporting success to the other leaders. "It was almost too easy," Tharn said thoughtfully. "Where there were four guards at one of the gates earlier tonight, I found but one--and he was sitting with his back to the gate and fast asleep. After I slew him I went on to help Trakor, only to learn he had had an almost similar experience."

"It is not uncommon for guards to sleep at their posts," Jotan said impatiently. "Let us get started before other of Vokal's guards discover the gates are unguarded and rouse the palace defenders."

"I think we should make sure we are not going blindly into some trap,"

Tharn demurred. "This entire thing is suspicious ... too easy."

But Jotan waved the cave lord into silence. "Can't you understand," he said crisply, "that we don't have time for that? I say let's get on with our plan and not spend time worrying about things that will never happen."

In this both Garlud and Tamar agreed, and so Tharn shrugged and said no more. He was in league with these Ammadians for only one reason: to make it that much easier for him to s.n.a.t.c.h Dylara from this strange city and return with her to the caves of his own people. What had happened to her, once he and Trakor had fled Vokal's palace earlier that night, leaving her hidden within the building, was something he could not know.

But there was no other place in all of Ammad he knew where to look for her, and so he must act in the belief that she still was behind the palace walls, either hidden there or once more a captive of the rascally n.o.bleman.