Warrior of the Dawn Part 6

She cried a little, there in the dim light, and still sobbing, fell asleep.

CHAPTER IV

Came Tharn

Sadu, the lion, rounding a bend in the trail, came to an abrupt halt as his eyes fell on the carca.s.s of Bana lying across the path a few yards ahead.

An idle breeze ruffled his heavy mane as he stood there, one great paw half-lifted as though caught in mid-stride. Then, very slowly, impelled solely by curiosity, he moved toward the dead animal.

Suddenly something stirred beyond the bulk of the deer. Sadu froze to immobility again as the dusty blood-stained figure of a half-naked man got to an upright position and faced him.

For a full minute the man and the lion stared woodenly into each other's eyes, across a s.p.a.ce of hardly more than a dozen paces.

Sadu's princ.i.p.al emotion was puzzled uncertainty. There was nothing of menace in the att.i.tude of this two-legged creature; neither did it show any indication of being alarmed. Experience had taught the lion to expect one or the other of those reactions upon such meetings as this, and the absence of either was responsible for his own indecision.

As for Tharn, he was experiencing difficulty in seeing clearly. The figure of the giant cat seemed to s.h.i.+mmer in the sunlight; to expand awesomely, then contract almost to nothing. A whirlpool of roaring pain sucked at his mind, drawing the strength from every muscle of his body.

Tharn realized the moment was fast approaching when either he or Sadu must make some move. If the lion's decision was to attack, the empty-handed cave-man would prove easy prey.

Almost at Tharn's feet lay his heavy war-spear. To stoop to retrieve it might precipitate an immediate charge. But that might come anyway, he reasoned, catching him without means of defence.

What followed required only seconds. Tharn crouched, caught up the flint-tipped weapon, and straightened--all in one supple motion. Sadu slid back on his haunches, reared up with fore-legs extended, gave one mighty roar--then turned and in wild flight vanished into the jungle!

It required the better part of an hour for the cave lord to hack a supply of meat from Bana's flank and cache it in a high fork of the nearest tree. The blow from a Sepharian war-club had resulted in a nasty concussion and the constant waves of dizziness and nausea made his movements slow and uncertain.

For two full days he lay on a rude platform of branches in that tree, most of the time in semi-stupor. Twice in that time he risked descent for water from the nearby river.

It was not until morning of the third day that he awoke comparatively clear-headed. For a little while he raced through the branches of neighboring trees, testing the extent of his recovery. And when he discovered that, beyond a dull ache in one side of his head, he was himself once more, he ate the remainder of his stock of deer meat and came down to the trail to pick up the two-day-spoor of Dylara's captors.

That those who had struck him down had also taken his intended mate, Tharn never doubted. She--and he!--had been too well ambushed for escape. What her fate would be after capture depended upon the ident.i.ty of her abductors.

But when Tharn had picked up those traces not obliterated by the movements of jungle denizens during the two days, he was as much in the dark as before. Never in his own considerable experience had he come upon the prints of sandals before this; nor had he known of a tribe who wore coverings on their feet.

He shrugged. After all, _who_ had taken Dylara was beside the point. She had been taken; and he must follow, to rescue her if she were still alive--for vengeance if they had slain her.

By noon of the next day Tharn was drawing himself up to the edge of the tableland at almost the same spot from whence Dylara had her first glimpse of Sephar. And when he rose to his feet and saw the city of stone and its great circular wall, he was no less electrified than the girl had been. He, however, felt no dread at the prospect of entering; indeed, his adventurous blood urged him to waste no time in doing so.

As he raced through the trees toward Sephar, his thoughts were of Dylara. Reason insisted that she still lived--a captive behind that grim stone wall. He knew, now, that his love for her was no temporary madness, but an emotion that would rule his life until death claimed him. Her proud, slender figure with its scanty covering of panther skin rose unbidden before him, and he felt a sudden uncomfortable tightness where ribs and belly met. Love was teaching Tharn of other aches than physical bruises....

It was mid-afternoon when he reached the forest's edge nearest to Sephar. Several hundred yards of level open ground lay between the trees and the mighty wall, which evidently encircled the entire city.

From where he crouched on a strong branch high above the ground, he saw two wide gateways not more than fifty yards apart, both of them guarded by parties of armed men. His keen eyes picked out details of their figures and clothing, both of which excited his keenest interest. With its entrances so closely guarded it would be folly to approach closer during the day. While impatient to reach Dylara's side, he was quite aware that any attempt at rescue now would doubtless cost him his own freedom, if not his life, thereby taking from the girl her only hope of escape. He must wait for night to come, hoping the guards would then be withdrawn.

Reminded that he had not eaten since early morning, Tharn swung back through the trees in search of meat. The plains of this valley appeared to abound with gra.s.s-eaters; and not long after, a wild horse fell before his careful stalking. Squatting on the body of his kill, he gorged himself on raw flesh, unwilling to chance some unfriendly eye noticing smoke from a fire.

His appet.i.te cared for, the cave-man bathed in the waters of a small stream. He then knelt on the bank, and using the water as a mirror, cut the sprouting beard from his face by means of a small, very sharp bit of flint taken from a pouch of his loin-cloth. Comfort, rather than vanity, was responsible; a bearded face increased the discomfort of a tropical day.

The sun was low in the west by the time he had returned to his former vantage point, and shortly afterward the heavy wooden gates were pulled shut by their guards, who then withdrew into the city.

Now, the grounds about Sephar were deserted, and soon the sun slipped behind the far horizon. Swiftly twilight gave way to darkness, and stars began to glow softly against the bosom of a clear semi-tropical night.

Two hours--three--went by and still Tharn did not leave his station.

Somewhere below him an unidentified animal crashed noisily through the thick undergrowth and moved deeper into the black shadows. Far back in the forest a panther screamed shrilly once and was still; to be answered promptly by the thunderous challenge of Sadu, the lion.

Finally the giant white man rose to his feet on the swaying branch and leisurely stretched. Silently and swiftly he slipped to the ground. He paused there for a moment, ears and nose alert for an indication of danger, then set out across the level field toward the towering wall of Sephar--enigmatic city of mystery and peril.

After Vulcar had led the captive cave-girl from the dining room, a general discussion sprang up. Any reference to the cave people, however, was carefully avoided; the subject, for some reason that n.o.body quite understood, seemed suddenly taboo.

While the others were rapidly drinking themselves into a drunken stupor, Jotan sat as one apart, head bowed in thought. He found it impossible to dismiss the impression given him by the half-naked girl of the caves.

She was so different from the usual girl with whom he came in contact--more vital, more alive. There was nothing fragile or clinging about her. He could not help but compare that fine, healthy, well-rounded figure with the pallid, artificial women of his acquaintance. Her clean sparkling eyes, clear tanned skin and graceful posture made those others seem dull and uninviting.

"Jotan!"

The visitor came back to his surroundings with a start.

Urim, his round face flushed from much wine, had called his name.

"Come, man," he laughed, "of what do you dream? A girl in far-off Ammad, perhaps?"

Jotan reddened, but replied calmly enough, "No, my king; no flower of _Ammad_ holds my heart."

The faint stress he placed on the name of his own country pa.s.sed unnoticed by all except Alurna.

"'Of Ammad,' you say, Jotan," she cut in. "Perhaps so soon you have found love here in Sephar."

The remark struck too close to home for the man's comfort.

"You read strange meanings in my words, my princess," he said evasively; then suddenly he thrust back his bench and arose.

"O Urim," he said, "my friends and I would like to look about Sephar.

Also, if you will have someone show us the quarters we are to use during our visit...."

"Of course," Urim agreed heartily. "The captain of my own guards shall act as your guide."

Vulcar was sent for. When he arrived, Urim bade him heed every wish the three guests might express.

As they pa.s.sed from the palace into the street beyond, Tamar said softly:

"Whatever possessed you, Jotan, to say such things where others could hear you? A n.o.ble of Ammad, raving about some half-clad barbarian girl!