The Port of Peril

VIII

The Wrath of the Serpent

Otis Adelbert Kline


CROUCHING in the grass near the slave compound with Kantar and So Lan, Grandon saw the yellow slave who had prevented Vernia from taking her own life, lead her through the gate.

“Where is he taking her?” he asked So Lan.

“They walk toward the burrow of Grunk,” replied So Lan. “I think she will be taken before the Rogo of the Valkars.”

“And then?”

“Grunk will probably decide which of the slaves is to take her to his burrow.”

“I believe so, Majesty. No alarm has been sounded, so I take it that I have not yet been missed. The Valkar that was pursuing me was a hunter I had encountered at some distance from the village.”

“Very well. Suppose you—but wait! What is that howling sound?”

“The guards are warning the Valkars that Sistabez, the great serpent, has awakened, and is emerging from his den. No need to go into the village now, for everyone will attend the sacrifice.”

“Sistabez?”

“A huge snake worshipped by the Valkars as a god. When he comes forth, they chain slaves in his pathway, in order that he may not raid the village. Naturally they value their own lives above those of their prisoners.”

“And Vernia is a prisoner! Can you get us quickly to this place of sacrifice?”

“We will have to circle the village, Majesty. It will take quite a while.”

“Then hurry.”

“This way.” So Lan dashed off through the tall grass with Grandon and Kantar at his heels.

Before they had gone far, it was obvious to Grandon that the Valkars would reach the place of sacrifice long before they would. Fuming at the delay, he kept urging the little yellow man to his best paces, but though he was willing enough, his short legs would not carry him nearly so fast as the two impatient white men could travel.

The howling from the village was deafening for some time, but to Grandon’s surprise, it suddenly ceased altogether.

“Sistabez has reached the place of sacrifice,” panted So Lan. “The Valkars always quit their howling when he is ready to take his first victim.”

Grandon, who could restrain his impatience no longer, now thrust his puffing and nearly exhausted guide out of the way, and dashed forward at top speed. He needed no guide a moment later, for the shriek of the snake’s first victim rang in his ears. Closely followed by Kantar, he bounded straight toward that sound. A short time later he heard, much closer, the cry of the second victim, then, still closer, the third, and finally the fourth.

A moment later, he bounded out into the open space at the base of the hill, in front of which the Valkars had assembled. Vernia had just been bound to the stake, and the two Valkars who had tied her were fleeing for their lives as the great serpent advanced toward her.

“Try to keep the crowd back, Gunner,” he shouted to Kantar as he whipped out his scarbo and sprinted for the stake. The two Valkars who had bound Vernia tried to stop him, but he elevated the muzzle of his tork, and sprayed them with needle-like bullets. One of them fell, gasping and kicking his last for Grandon had loaded the weapon with a clip of projectiles he had found in the belt pouch of San Thoy, which contained enough poison to kill a dozen men. He dispatched the other toad man with his scarbo.

A few swift strides carried him to Vernia’s side, and two strokes of his scarbo freed her. She was so overcome by the ordeal through which she had just passed that she swooned, and would have fallen, had not Grandon sheathed his scarbo and caught her up in his arms.

All this took place in less than a minute, and during this time the tork of the gunner had been popping to good purpose as attested by the ring of fallen Valkars which had been bold enough to rush him. Now, as Grandon dashed back into the tall grass with Vernia in his arms, Kantar ran behind him to cover his retreat.

The serpent, meanwhile, had not shown any interest in these proceedings, but had crawled on past the stake to seize and swallow the two Valkars that still lay kicking on the ground.

“What kind of bullets are you using?” Grandon asked the gunner, as they plunged into the grass.

“Deadly,” he replied.

“Put in a clip of solid bullets for a moment,” directed Grandon, “and give the big snake a half dozen or so in the neck.”

Kantar chuckled as he swiftly carried out the Earthman’s instructions. “A good idea, Majesty,” he said. “It will give the ugly toads something to do besides chasing us.”

Kantar was the best marksman in the Reabonian army, either with a tork or mattork, and it was child’s play for him to quickly place the bullets as he had been directed. The effect on the huge serpent was instantaneous. With its forked tongue playing so rapidly that the eye could scarcely follow, and an angry hissing sound that was almost like the roar of steam escaping from a locomotive, it coiled and struck again and again into the closely packed crowd of Valkars, a tremendous living engine of destruction. Before, it had only been satisfying its hunger. Now it was taking swift and horrible toll of those creatures which it believed responsible for its hurts.

With his own tork, Grandon, meanwhile, shot down a score of Valkars that had followed them, giving the gunner time to reload with the deadly projectiles. As they hurried forward once more, they were joined by So Lan, who had armed himself with a hook, mace, and knife taken from one of the fallen Valkars.

“Take care not to scratch yourself or anyone else with those weapons,” warned Kantar, as they trotted through the grass. “We have no Valkar blood for an antidote, now.

“I have seen to that,” replied So Lan. He raised the flap of his belt pouch, and disclosed a slice of still quivering flesh. “This will serve all of us if need arise.”

It was evident that the Valkars were well occupied with their own troubles, as none appeared to molest them for some time. They soon found the path which led from the village to the swamp, and had followed this for about a mile, when Vernia, still in her husband’s arms, recovered consciousness, and demanded to be set on her feet.

“I can carry you all the way to the boat, if need be,” Grandon protested.

“No, Bob. You must save your strength, for we will have need of it. I can walk as well as any of you, now. Besides, your hands must be free to grasp your weapons. The Valkars may catch up with us at any time.”

“I rather think they’re pretty well occupied with their own troubles, right now. But try it for a while if you must. I can carry you again if you tire.”

They set off at a fast walk, but had not gone far when Kantar, who was at the rear, softly called: “Majesty.”

Grandon turned. “What is it?”

“Something following us. I see the grass waving.”

“We’ll make a stand,” Grandon decided, “and give them a warm reception if they’re Valkars.”

A moment later, a short yellow man appeared in the pathway. He was followed by five more. Grandon recognized the leader as San Thoy, and whipping out his scarbo, advanced toward him, ignoring the others.

“So,” he thundered, “you are the yellow filth who abducted my wife!”

San Thoy cringed, then dropped to his knees with right hand extended palm downward, as Grandon towered above him with upraised scarbo.

“No, no, Majesty! Spare me! There is a misunderstanding! I tried to rescue Her Majesty. We stopped at the cabin to wait for daylight, that I might take her to the Reabonian coast.”

“Ah! Then you did not with your unwelcome advances, drive her forth into the night to be captured by the Valkars?” turned to Kantar. “Lend this rakehell of Huitsen your blade, Gunner, that I may settle accounts with him.”

San Thoy quaked with fear.

“But I am no swordsman, Majesty,” he whined, “to oppose the mightiest blade on Zorovia. It would be murder. Besides, as Thorth is my witness, I do not recall offering any affront to Her Gracious Majesty. My head became so addled with kova that I did not know I had been wounded and captured by the Valkars until this morning.”

“I perceive,” said Grandon, contemptuously, “that you are a liar and a coward as well as a rogue. What shall I do with the vermin, Gunner?”

“Strike off his head, Sire, and leave his foul remains to the jungle scavengers.”

“Right. It is the least that he deserves.”

San Thoy cringed, expecting the death blow as Grandon raised his blade. But it did not fall, for at this moment Vernia caught his arm.

“Please, Bob, I can’t let you do it,” she said. “Spare him for my sake.”

“It is for your sake that I would put an end to him,” replied Grandon. “To permit him to live after—”

“Please. Remember Tholto, the marshman. You would have slain him for a similar offense, but spared him because I requested it. And he afterward saved my honor when I was in the power of Zanaloth of Mernerum. Later, he saved both our lives.”

“True,” replied Grandon, “But this vile creature is no more like Tholto than a Valkar is like me. Yet, because it is your request, I can not do otherwise than spare him.” He spurned the groveling San Thoy with his foot. “Get up,” he commanded, “and remember that you are indebted to the Torroga of Reabon for your worthless life.”

“Then may we accompany Your Majesties through the swamp to the coast?” asked one of the escaped slaves who had come up with San Thoy. “We could not find the way, unaided, and we are not armed against the monsters we should be sure to encounter.”

“We are not anxious for such company,” replied Grandon, “but you may follow behind us.”

They set off once more, Grandon leading, closely followed by Vernia, So Lan, and Kantar. At a respectful distance behind tramped San Thoy and his band.

A short march took them to the treacherous swamp, where Grandon was able to make much better time than on his previous trip through it, by backtracking in his own footsteps. But their progress was slow at best, and it was not long before there came an imploring cry from San Thoy.

“The Valkars are coming! Give us aid! Save us!”

“They don’t deserve it,” said Grandon, “but after all, they are human beings, and unarmed and in danger. Bring your comrades forward, San Thoy,” he called, “and you, Gunner, guard the rear. If you can’t handle things, let me know, and I’ll come back with you.”

Kantar stood aside until San Thoy and his comrades had time to close in behind So Lan. Then he fell in behind the last man, and as they marched forward, glanced back from time to time to note the proximity of the enemy. He soon saw that the Valkars were gaining rapidly on them, and also that they were not keeping to the trail, but were spreading out in a crescent shaped line, evidently with the intention of surrounding them. After communicating this intelligence to Grandon, he began picking off with his tork such Valkars as came dangerously close.

Presently, when the dull-witted Valkars began to realize that to expose themselves to the gunner’s deadly aim meant sure death, they took advantage of cover. This slowed them a bit, but still their pace was swifter than that of Grandon’s party, as their webbed feet gave them considerable advantage in traveling over the swampy ground. Soon the two horns of their crescent caught up with Grandon, who began using his tork as frequently as Kantar, though with not quite such deadly precision. With sword or scarbo he had not met his equal on all Zorovia, but there was only one Kantar the Gunner, and Grandon, though an excellent shot, bowed to his uncanny skill with the weapon.

Between the two of them, Grandon and Kantar managed to keep their enemies at bay until they reached the more solid footing of the sparsely wooded hills. But in the meantime, the horns of the crescent had closed in front of them. On the firmer ground, however, their speed exceeded that of the Valkars, and since they no longer feared those behind them, but only those in front and at the sides, he changed his formation, massing the noncombatants in the center, while he and the gunner ranged on each side.

Only a few of the Valkars had succeeded in getting ahead of them, and these succumbed to the marksmanship of the two men. Then Grandon ordered a swift charge across the hill that confronted them, and beyond which was the thick fern forest that fringed the bay. When he reached the brow of the hill, he glanced back and saw that several hundred Valkars had already emerged from the swamp, while at least a thousand swarmed through the muck and water behind them. But the sight of this vast force did not dismay him, for he knew that his party could easily outrun them on the firm ground that lay ahead, and that they would have ample time to launch the little boat which San Thoy had moored near the cabin.

They dashed down the rugged hillside, and plunged into the fern forest, just as the front lines of their pursuers swept over the brow of the hill. But Grandon had scarcely taken fifty steps into the forest shadows, when a heavy body fell on his back from the branches above, knocking him to the ground. It was quickly followed by a half dozen more, and though the Earth-man managed to struggle to his feet, his arms were pinioned behind him, and his weapons taken away. He had led his party directly into an ambush of yellow pirates. Kantar, he observed, had been served in like manner.

Suddenly then, as if by magic, a whole army of Huitsenni appeared, stepping from behind tree trunks, bushes, and rocks, and dropping from the dense tangle of branches overhead. The little party was completely surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered.

Waddling toward them through the ranks of the pirates, who respectfully made way for him, Grandon now recognized Thid Yet, Romojak of the Navies of Huitsen.

Thid Yet expectorated a red stream of kerra juice, and grinned toothlessly, as he bowed before Grandon and Vernia.

“I am gratified that we arrived in time to save Your Majesties from the Valkars,” he said. “Guest chambers have been prepared for you and your warrior aboard my flagship.” His eyes next fell on the cowering San Thoy. “So, traitor, we meet again. I doubt not that His Majesty of Huitsen will contrive exquisite tortures for you when he has heard the story of your perfidy. Seize him, men.” His glance next fell on So Lan and the other unarmed yellow men who formed the balance of the party. “Who are you?” he asked.

“We are from various crews, Excellency, sent ashore for water, and captured in engagements with the Valkars, who held us as slaves,” replied So Lan.

“So? Then report to my mojo who will assign you to new berths.”

At this moment, one of Thid Yet’s aides ran up to announce that the Valkars were attacking in force.

“Tell the mattork crews to make a stand at the edge of the woods and mow them down without mercy,” commanded Thid Yet. “These warty monsters need a lesson, and now is the time to read them one they will not soon forget.”

As they marched toward the harbor, Grandon heard the rattle of mattork fire, which continued for several minutes. Then it suddenly stopped, and he concluded that the Valkars, seeing that they had run into an ambush, had retreated. This he afterward learned was really the case.

They found the beach lined with the small boats of the Huitsenni, while the pirate fleet rode at anchor less than a quarter of a mile from the entrance to the cove. Grandon, Vernia, Kantar, and San Thoy were rowed to the flagship in the boat of Thid Yet. Back on the deck of the vessel once more, the Romojak gave swift orders.

“Return Her Majesty of Reabon to her former quarters, and keep her door constantly guarded,” he told his mojo. “His Majesty, here, together with his warrior and our treacherous mojak, will have to be put in irons, and confined belowdecks. And keep two armed guards constantly before their door. They escaped too easily the last time.”

Vernia was led away to her cabin, and the three men were fitted with thick metal collars, to which heavy chains were attached, linking them together. Then they were lowered down a hatchway, and marched along a corridor, to be thrust into a small and exceedingly filthy room. The door of heavy serali planks was barred, and Grandon heard two guards take their places before it.

Soon the anchors were hoisted and the sails unfurled. With the flagship in the lead, the fleet once more sailed southward.


The Port of Peril    |     IX - The Secret Gate


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