Warrior of the Dawn Part 9

"Uh?" came an answering grunt.

"Are you awake?"

"I wasn't--until you woke me," said Jotan testily.

"I think somebody stepped on my fingers," the first voice said. "They feel like it, anyway."

"You must have rolled over on them, Javan. Go back to sleep."

Tharn followed the conversation with interest, surprised that he could understand the words. He waited patiently and without panic for the speakers to act or to return to sleep.

"I tell you, my hand was stepped on," Javan insisted.

"What are you two talking about?" broke in a third voice.

"Javan claims someone has been walking on him," explained Jotan. "Make a light; he'll not sleep until we search the place."

Tharn heard one of the men rise and fumble about in a corner of the room. Suddenly a flame sputtered and took hold, lighting the room's interior with a feeble glow.

Waiting no longer, Tharn twisted the latch and tried to draw open the door. But something had gone wrong; he could not stir the heavy planks.

"There!" Javan shouted. "At the door! Didn't I tell--"

With a bound Jotan leaped from his bed and plunged forward, catching Tharn at the knees. The cave-man braced himself, then bent and grasped his attacker about the waist.

Jotan was a strong, agile man. As a rough-and-tumble fighter he had few equals. But when the arms of the intruder encircled his body and tore away his hold as though he were a child, he knew he stood no chance.

The Sepharian gasped aloud as he felt himself swung aloft. He had a swift glimpse of the awe-stricken faces of his friends; then his flying body hurtled across the room to crash against them with sickening force, sending all three to the floor, half-stunned.

Tharn seized the door-latch once more and surged back with all his strength. There followed the sound of splintering wood as latch, bolt and strike were torn away. A second later he had gained the street.

By the time those within were ready to attempt pursuit, the cave-man was a block away, running with the long easy strides of a trained athlete.

As he ran, Tharn drew his knife for any misguided person who might wish to bar his path. He was slowly drawing away from his shouting pursuers, when he caught sight of a second group of warriors not far ahead and coming at a run toward him.

Turning sharply into a side street, Tharn dashed on for a short distance, only to pull up short. The roadway ended here, nor were there streets on either side. Behind him the Sepharians had turned the corner and were bearing down upon him.

Tharn was no stranger to danger or sudden death. Life in the jungles and on the vast plains had little else to offer. Fear and panic were not likely to prolong life; Tharn knew not the meaning of either.

And so it was, that as the angry fighting-men rushed toward him, they were to find no terror-stricken creature at bay. Indeed, so savage was the bearing of their quarry that the Sepharians hesitated, then came to a full stop a few paces away.

They were many, at least a score, but the sight of the Cro-Magnon's brawny frame and rippling muscles gave a dubious aspect to the whole affair; nor was the stone knife in one powerful hand a matter to be lightly dismissed.

It was during this brief armistice that one Lukor, awakened by the tumult outside his windows opened the door of his home with the ill-advised intention of making an investigation.

"I am surprised--" he began; but an instant later he was infinitely more surprised when the impact of a naked shoulder into his stomach flung him against the far corner of the room.

Tharn's jungle-trained ears had caught the sound of a bar being lifted, and so swiftly had he acted that the door was slammed shut and the bar replaced before Jotan, first to recover, could send his weight cras.h.i.+ng against the planks.

The moonlight filtering through the latticed windows revealed an open doorway in the opposite wall, and Tharn pa.s.sed into an inner room. There were no windows here, and he stumbled over various furnis.h.i.+ngs before he came upon a rude staircase.

Taking three at a time, he bounded up the steps to the chamber above.

Below he could hear the impact of bodies against the lattice-work of the windows. His enemies were getting no aid from the dazed Lukor; he had not yet regained his breath or his courage.

Without hesitation, Tharn crossed the room to its single large window and looked down. He was just in time to see the curtain of branches at the window beneath give way and man after man clamber through.

They did not all go in, however; five armed guards took up positions in the street. The Cro-Magnon had hoped to drop to the street as soon as the coast was clear, but now that avenue of escape was closed.

Something must be done, and quickly, Tharn realized, were he to outwit those whose feet were even now pounding on the stairs. Thrusting head and shoulders out the window, he looked up and saw, a few feet away, the roof's edge.

Quickly Tharn balanced himself on the narrow sill, his back to the street. Raising to his tip-toes he reached gingerly up. His finger tips were a full six inches short of the roof's edge!

A lone chance remained: he must jump for it. To fail would plummet him to the street below--to certain capture and possible injury. The sinews of his legs tensed; then he rose upward in a cat-like leap.

There was a second of breathless uncertainty; then his fingers closed on a flat stone surface.

Barely had the dangling feet cleared the upper edge of the aperture when the horde burst through the doorway. Finding no occupant, they dashed to the window and called to the watchers below, only to learn the forest-man had not re-entered the street. A thorough search of the room convinced them the man they sought had left the building, and they blamed the men below for having permitted his escape; in turn to be jeered at as cowards for not searching Lukor's premises more carefully.

It was a puzzled crowd of disgruntled warriors that finally gave up the hunt. Some of the more superst.i.tious were inclined to believe it was no human they sought--an evil spirit, perhaps, that had faded back into nothingness.

While a block away, Tharn, having fled from one roof to another, dropped easily to earth and set out for the huge white palace he had glimpsed from the house-tops.

The Princess Alurna was finding it impossible to sleep. For hours she had lain wide-eyed, tossing fitfully, seeking the rest that would not come. Before her mind's eye persisted the image of Jotan as she had first seen him; in her ears were the sound of his voice and the echo of his laugh.

Why must her thoughts stay with this handsome visitor? Had her imperious heart given way at last?

She tried to thrust out the idea, to submerge it beneath a wave of derision; but to no avail. The image prevailed, calling attention to a splendid body and compelling features.

Finally she rose and went to the low wide window. Kneeling there she rested her arms on the broad sill, looking out over the sleeping streets and buildings, silent and brooding beneath the moon's splendor. Far out beyond the walls surrounding Sephar she could see the dark primeval forest, and she s.h.i.+vered a little although the night was warm. Faintly to her ears, across the stillness came the distant challenge of a lion.

Again she shuddered, and brought her gaze back to Sephar's streets. The minutes pa.s.sed slowly....

Suddenly she half rose in surprise as the almost naked figure of a man bounded from the shadows of a building across from the palace, and, entering the grounds, pa.s.sed from sight somewhere below.

What did it mean? Was a resident of Sephar entering the palace for some mysterious reason of his own? Hardly. None would be so rash. Then, too, the figure had not been clad in the short tunic, usual dress of all Sepharians.

No; that shadowy figure meant danger. Jumping to her feet she ran to the door and flung it open. At her appearance the two warriors in the corridor sprang hastily forward.

"Get Vulcar at once," she cried. "Someone is trying to get into the palace!"

The moon's liquid rays did not reach the palace wall where Tharn was standing now. The white, smooth stone gleamed dully in the half light.