"A moment!" cried Ramey. "Ravana—the Lady Sheilacita! Where is she?"
Again the Videlian laughed. This time there was a note of pleased anticipation in his voice. "Concern yourself not about the woman, my Lord Ramaíya," he gibed. "She awaits my pleasure. Nor shall I keep her waiting long. As soon as these slight matters of state have been cleared up, the Lady Sheilacita will receive the great honor of becoming one of my mates. It is only right and proper, is it not, that the Videlian colony on your earth should some day be peopled with a race born half of earthling blood? You see—" he chuckled coarsely—"I have higher aspirations for the future of your world than has the Lord Sugriva, who would raise to mock manhood the hairy apes of the jungle. Careful, earthman! Dare not my wrath!" His warning halted Ramey's impulsive forward movement. Ravana motioned again to the waiting captain. "I weary of my guests, Captain Thalakka. Take them away. Place them in the dungeons to await my later decision."
He lolled back in his throne, signifying the audience at an end. Captain Thalakka gestured his captives toward the door. As they left the room, there floated high and clear above the nervous hubbub of palace movement, the mocking, bell-like laughter of the Lady Rakshasi....
Ramey had guessed, from its exterior, that the citadel on Lanka was a tremendous place. He had not been able to appraise its full enormity from the outside, though. That he realized as Captain Thalakka led him and the silent Sheng-ti through corridor after lofting corridor, past mighty chambers and halls; down, down and ever down into the entrails of the citadel, into the dungeons festering below.
Ever, as they pressed onward and downward, Ramey had an eye peeled for the likely spot, the strategic moment, that might offer escape. But he found none. Lanka was more than a palace, more than mere bulwarked ramparts of stone. It was an armed camp, seething with a seemingly endless host of Videlian giants, its population swelled to thousands by slaves impressed from the children of earth.
So he resigned himself, as he had once before, to a principle of "watchful waiting." Incarceration was not to be his ultimate fate. The Lord Ravana had made that point clear and emphatic. So however deep he might burrow beneath Lankanow, there would come a time when he would again see day. If he waited, laid his plans for that time....
Curiously enough, it was Captain Thalakka who waxed gloomiest as the trio descended interminable stairs into the black depths of Lanka. The tall, golden-skinned warrior fumed with brooding restlessness, a torment that finally would not be restrained. He turned to Ramey, his eyes haggard.
"Now, Lord Ramaíya," he cried angrily, "am I, Thalakka, Captain of the Torthian Guard, a shamed and sorrowed man! It is iron to my soul that I, who owe you my life, should be the one to lead you to a foul and certain doom!"
Ramey said quietly, "You're just doing your duty, my captain. I don't hold this against you. But—thanks. It's nice to know that all Videlians are not brutes."
"Then I hold it against myself!" groaned the Martian soldier. "As for we of Videlia—" There was a note of bitter savagery in his voice—"Do not judge us all by him who has seized the throne of Lanka. Many of us there are who rue the day he usurped the rulership of this colony, hurling into the dungeons his own brother. Aye, many there are who would gladly live in peace with you earthmen. Had we but the courage and strength to do so—"
Ramey glanced at him swiftly, appraisingly. "Go on, Thalakka!" he encouraged. "What do you mean?"
But the Videlian's jaw had set, as if he feared that already he had said too much. His eyes darted about the gray corridors anxiously, and he whispered, "Speak softly, man of earth. These very walls have wagging tongues. But, hark ye! In the foul pits we now approach you will find another. One named Vibhishana, blood-brother of the Lord Ravana. Gain him to your cause and—who knows what may transpire?
"Foryou, even though you are my friend and the one to whom I owe my life, I can do little. But were Lord Vibhishana your pledged ally, much might be done on your behalf."
"You mean—?"
"I mean," continued the Videlian hurriedly, "that at the middle watch this night I will come to the dungeon gates. If that third one whose name I have already told is with you, I can pledge that there will be guards in the corridors who will turn a blind eye to your passage. And now—" His tone changed abruptly, became harsh, commanding—"Cease thy noisy bleating, serfs! Thank your stupid earth gods thy lives have been spared—Ah! warder, open your doors and rid me of these earthling scum!"
They had stopped, at last, before a huge bronze door at what must be, thought Ramey, judging from the clammy dampness moisturing the walls, the stale and foetid air, the very bottom of the fortress. And at Captain Thalakka's call, came shuffling to them a gnarled, coarse figure bearing on a great ring the key to the donjon-keep. He squinted at the captives suspiciously.
"Scum indeed, Captain Thalakka! Why sent our leader these earth dogs hither?"
"For safekeeping," answered Thalakka, "until he finds time to decide their fate."
The warder grinned evilly. "Then I shall not have to bother with them long," he hazarded. "Our Lord Ravana is not one to delay his decisions. Well, filth—in with you!" His key grated in the lock; with a scraggly hand he thrust Sheng-ti and Ramey through the portal. "And mind you disturb me not, or I'll come a-visiting with the lash!"
Again he turned the clef, securing the doorway after them. Then, still chuckling, he shuffled away. But Thalakka pressed his lips once to the grill before he, too, disappeared. And the words he whispered were, "Courage! Tonight!"
Being thrust into these dungeons, Ramey discovered, was unlike being imprisoned in the cell-block of a modern—a 20th Century—jail. Here were no neat, ordered individual cells, no runways with pacing guards, no blazing lights, no clean, steel avenues astringent with the odor of disinfectant. When the gate clanged shut behind him, darkness surged in to engulf him in a maw of ebon velvet; his feet slipped on damp masonry, and for a moment a sense of panic fear, instinctive, unreasoning, gripped him.
In that moment he was glad of the presence of Sheng-ti. For nothing could disturb the smooth complaisance of the agedbonze. His hand, upholding Ramey, was warm and serene, his voice reassuring.
"Peace, my son! We are at least alone, and in solitude is strength."
Ramey grinned at him, an invisible grin to an invisible companion. "Thanks, old man," he said. "I guess it's the dark. I went into a tail-spin for a second."
"It is written," said Sheng-ti, "that darkness is naught but the shadow of the gods. Yet, behold! Even now it is not dark. See—in the distance?"
Now that his eyes had accustomed themselves to gloom Ramey saw that, indeed, there was a faint smudge of light before him. By it he recognized that they stood at the threshold of but one of a numberless series of connected chambers; high, vaulted caverns, sturdywalled and windowless, supported by massive columns which might have been hewn from solid rock. Now, completely in possession of himself again, it was Ramey who took the initiative. He gripped his friend's arm, propelling him forward.
"Where there is light," he said, "there must be men. These dungeons are not tenantless. Come on!"
And together they picked their way, on feet rapidly growing more sure, toward the faraway smudge.
As they drew nearer its source, they discovered that the illumination came from guttering candles, and from small bonfires over which, like so many wraiths huddling from the frightful chill of Limbo, hunkered the figures of other prisoners. Many were these, and of all races. Earthmen and Videlians alike were the exiles of this abandoned gaol. They did not mingle together, but in little clans: groups similar in color or in creed, in physiognomy or faith. Although they shared an identical fate, it was evident by the angry glances which passed between one group and another, by the bickering of individual leaders, that there was strife and distrust between these companies.
An example of this smouldering hatred showed itself as Ramey and Sheng-ti considered which of the groups it were best they should approach.
The apparent leader of one tiny clan, a tall, strong-thewed earthman whose race Ramey would have identified tentatively as Coptic, had been muttering to himself audibly. Now he rose to his full height, swift decision seeming to fan to a blaze the long-contained flame within him.
"Like dogs! Like mangy dogs filthy with vermin they cage us in this stinking hole! And do we rebel? Nay! Like whipped curs we bow before the cursed Videlians—when even our food and drink must be shared with the castoffs of their race!"
He glowered across the room to another fire, gathered about which was a tiny knot of Videlians. An elderly man looked to be leader of these, for as the Coptic chieftain let loose his blast, one of the Martian prisoners stirred, would have risen to reply had not the older man stayed him.
Fellow of the Copt's clan muttered hoarse approval of his words; from other groups came rumblings of encouragement. But one prisoner—an Erse, Ramey guessed, or perhaps a Cym—laughed sardonically.
"And what would you do about it, Tauthus of Cush?"
The mighty one's eyes glinted in the firelight like shards of flint. "I would talk less," he bellowed in reply, "and act more! I would regain a vestige of my lost manhood, beginning by wreaking vengeance on those who are of the race of our oppressors. Likethis!"
And like a cat leaping, so swiftly that none could move to deter him, he rushed from his own fire to that where gathered the Videlians. With one blow he felled a startled Martian youth jumping up to meet him. Then, gripping the old man in strong hands, he yanked him to his feet. Light shone on a scrap of metal in his hands, a rude knife painstakingly wrought from a forgotten file.
"Thus," he roared, "to all Videlians!" The raw blade descended....
But if all others stood too stunned to move, not so Ramey Winters. A fighting-man himself, he had recognized instantly that there was no-acting in the defi of Tauthus of Cush. The Copt was in deadly earnest. And even as his arm upraised, Ramey thrust forward boldly into the chamber. His voice ringing unexpectedly loud in the echoing vaults, had the explosive vigor of lightning.
"Hold!" he cried. "Strike not, son of Earth!"
As a moment frozen in imperishable pigments, everything stopped! The cry of blood-lusting voices dwindled into shocked silence ... the upraised arm fell not ... the straining figures locked in fantastic poses as if carven so. Then with infinite slowness the head of Tauthus turned. His eyes sought and found his accoster, narrowed menacingly.
"And who are you," he rumbled, "to give commands?"
There was still an automatic beneath Ramey's girdle, a weapon which the Videlians, unsuspecting of its nature, had not taken from him. But he made no move to use it. Instead, he stepped forward still farther that the light might shine upon his features. His face was grave and anxious, his tone beseeching.
"An earthman like yourself, Tauthus of Cush. And a prisoner. But one who realizes that in wanton destruction of each other does not lie the way of our salvation."
"The Videlians," said Tauthus grimly, "are our captors and our foes. This aged stick is a Videlian—"
"—and a prisoner," argued Ramey desperately, "like ourselves. Is that not proof enough he is no ally of the Lord Ravana? Evidence that his foe is our foe? If you kill this man, you do a service to the lord we hate. Can you not hear the laughter of Ravana at learning his prisoners fight amongst themselves, destroy each other?"
And—the battle of words was won! Tauthus of Cush dropped his blade into his belt, released his captive sheepishly and moved away. A man of spirit he was, but he was a man of logic, too. He said thoughtfully, "There is wisdom in what you say, stranger. But, mind you—" And he glared at those who were now circling about them curiously—"let none think cowardice stayed the wrath of Tauthus, or that fellow's guts shall feed the rats!"
"None shall think that, Tauthus," Ramey assured him. "If I read not the future wrongly, the time comes, and it not far removed, when each and every man in this dungeon shall be given the chance to prove his valor."
An eager light flashed in the other man's eyes. He said hoarsely, "What mean you, newcomer?"
"I shall tell you. But first—how many prisoners dwell in these caverns?"
Tauthus shrugged.
"Who knows? Three score, perhaps? Maybe more?"
"Can you gather their group leaders, their captains, for a council?"
The Coptic chieftain nodded. "That I can, and will." To decide, with Tauthus of Cush, was to act. He wheeled away abruptly, began shouting orders. "You ... and you ... and you! Haste into the farthest reaches of the dungeon. Gather here all who dare die that they might live again. Hurry—"
Now the white-haired Videlian, who had stood quietly at Ramey's side throughout this interlude, turned to his protector.
"Man of Earth," he said gravely, "I thank you. Not for myself, because my life is of little importance. But for having quelled an act which might have destroyed us all. Can I repay you in any way? What can I do to help this plan you have?"
"Nothing just now, thanks," said Ramey. "Later, perhaps—Wait a minute! Youcanhelp me. Point out which of the Videlians is known as Vibhishana."
The old man smiled sadly.
"That will not be hard, my friend," he said. "ForIam—or once was—the Lord Vibhishana."
Escape
Ramey stared at the claimant incredulously. Surely this man could not be the brother of Lord Ravana! Father or uncle, perhaps. But—
Then, peering more closely at the older man he realized it was not so much age that had whitened Vibhishana's hair, bowed his shoulders, creased and lined his cheeks, as it was privation. Privation, worry and sorrow. And studying the Martian he now could trace a family resemblance. Vibhishana had a nose as aquiline and proud as that of the arrogant Ravana, lips full and delicately-turned as those tempting ones of the Lady Rakshasi. He differed from his younger brother and sister in that his eyes were warm and friendly, where theirs were intense as a wind-swept flame, his manner was gentle and self-effacing, where theirs was haughty. Said Ramey:
"It is so! Yes, I see it now. YouareVibhishana."
"Once Regent," said the older man sorrowfully, "of Videlia's colony on Earth. Now a prisoner in the citadel I once dreamed would be a refuge and gathering-place for every race that treads this planet. Aye, it is a sad end to which my dreams have come, stranger. But who are you? Whence came you here, and why?"
Ramey told him then, briefly, that which had gone before. Vibhishana listened eagerly and—what was more surprising—comprehendingly. Not even was he amazed when Ramey told of the time-machine. He but nodded.
"Ah, yes! That would be the invention of the Gaanelian lord, Rudra. He was a brilliant one. He invented also a Bow. A frightful weapon. Had it been mine, never would Ravana have dared rise against me. Where is the Bow now? Does not Sugriva have it?"
"It is here," Ramey told him grimly, "at Lanka. So far it has done Ravana no good, because it isn't charged for operation. But he has sent his men out to find the precious element which operates it. If he gets the ammunition before we can invade Lanka, I'm afraid the fight will be over. Whatisthis ammunition, anyway?" It was a question that had long puzzled Ramey. "Some rare type of explosive?"
"A metal," explained Vibhishana. "What your tongue would call it, I do not know. We know it as the elementbanaratha. A metal more rare than perfect gold; yea, even rarer than the dull platinum of Earth's frigid poles. You are indeed undone, Ramey Winters, if my brother has located enough of it to fuel the Bow of Rudra." He shook his head sadly. "It is a shame he brings down upon the fair name of Videlia, my power-greedy brother. Whether he win or lose, for ages to come shall the name of my home planet be associated with the thoughts of war, death and conquest."
He spoke, thought Ramey with a strange tingling in his spine, more truly than he knew. And a dim wonderment grew in Ramey that he, a Twentieth Century man, should listen to a prediction made centuries before his birth, and recognize that prophecy to have been fulfilled. For in the world from which Ramey had come, the name of Vibhishana's homeland, Mars, was invariably, inevitably, associated with thoughts of war, death and conquest. And this for no reason known to the memory of living man....
But he said, "Then you shared not Ravana's desire?"
"Shared it!" Vibhishana's voice deepened angrily. "You dare accuse me—I am sorry, Ramey Winters. You did not mean to offend, I know. But believe me, never for an instant did I, when I ruled Lanka, harbor any lust for dominion over your people. With the Gaanelian lord I cherished the dream that we of the more advanced cultures might help improve your planet, make it a finer world for your people. All I asked of earthmen was their allegiance, small territorial rights on which to base a sound commerce and a solid economy between our two homelands.
"Perhaps—" he continued almost wistfully—"even more than Sugriva I cherished this hope. For his race, the blue ones of Gaanelia, are after all of a different stock. We of Videlia, and you of Earth, are of the same seed. Behold your companion, Ramey Winters. Can you deny that from the same source sprang the root which was to nourish us both?"
There was, indeed, a great similarity between Sheng-ti and Vibhishana. Both were tall, both almost beardless by nature, both ochre-skinned. And the "Mongolian fold," that small, peculiarly creased fold of flesh which lends obliquity to the typical Oriental eye, was common to both men.
Ramey said, perplexed, "But—but that would indicate that ages beforethisyour world must have had intercourse with ours. Yet Sugriva said his planet was the first to develop space-travel—"
"Even the Lord Sugriva can err, Ramey Winters. The dead past buries many secrets. We of Videlia have a legend that our civilization sprang from a planet now vanished from the heavens, a mighty race whose home-world was destroyed in a frightful cataclysm. Who knows but that refugees from this earlier world might have emigrated to each of our two younger ones?[10]
"But enough of this now. I see the companions of Tauthus are back, bringing with them the captains. For what reason summoned you them?"
Ramey turned to where Tauthus stood chafing impatiently for this palaver to end. As Vibhishana had said, the captains had gathered. And a rougher, tougher, meaner-looking crew, Ramey had never set eyes on in his life. But they were a sight calculated to warm the heart of a fighting man. Ramey stepped into their midst.
"Now, this—" he began—"this is my plan...."
Without artificial means, it would have been impossible to tell, in the dungeons beneath Lanka, what hour of day or night it was. No feeblest ray of sun light ever penetrated this dank depths; skins were colorless, gums sloughing-sore, and hair without lustre amongst those who had lain long in the prison.
But the candles spluttering fitfully upon the walls, and the periodic visits of the gaolers with food and drink, by these had the prisoners managed to maintain some cognizance of what hour it was outside their walls.
Thus, at the middle watch of the night, his campaign mapped out and approved by hastily-selected lieutenants, Ramey Winters waited feverishly by the outer door of the dungeon.
So long he had crouched at this post, so long counted the beat of his pulse in eager expectation, that it seemed to him the hour of appointment must have long since passed. But at last his vigil was rewarded. There came the clanking of harness, the rasp of sandaled feet on harsh stone, and the voice of Captain Thalakka.
"Warder!"
"Aye? What is it? Who calls?" The shuffling footsteps of the gaoler. "Ah, you again, Captain? What is it?"
"A meeting of all prison guards," said the Videlian, "on the fourth level. I have come to relieve you so you may attend. You may hand over the keys."
A long silence. Then: "Mighty unusual!" declared the warder. "Nothing like this ever happened before!"
"These are unusual times. Nothing like an invasion of Lanka was ever attempted before. But the monkey-warriors of Sugriva are even now assembled on the mainland shore, and our defense measures must be studied."
"Say you so!" There came the jangle of metal passing from one hand to another. "Invasion, eh? Well, I'll be running along, then. I'll have more prisoners to take care of when this is over, eh, captain?"
And giggling evilly, the warder shuffled away.
Another slow century dripped by before his footsteps disappeared in the distance. Then came the swift whisper of Captain Thalakka:
"My Lord? My Lord Ramaíya?"
"We are here," Ramey whispered back. "All three of us. Open swiftly!"
The key grated in the lock, the door swung open, and momentarily blinded by the lights of the corridor, Ramey elbowed forward to freedom. Behind him came Sheng-ti, then Vibhishana, then—
Captain Thalakka so far forgot himself as to loose a little cry. "But—but what is this, Lord Ramaíya! Behind you! The prisoners! This I cannot allow! No! For you, to whom I owe my life, I have risked much that you might escape. But not even for you can I betray the fortress, my Lord Ravana and my comrades-in-arms—"
But a taller, slimmer figure brushed past Ramey Winters to confront the protesting soldier. And:
"Nor even forme, Captain?" asked Vibhishana gently.
The warrior stared. Just for a moment. Then a look of humility, in which was strangely mingled joy, flooded into his eyes. He went to one knee. "My Lord!" he breathed. "My Lord Vibhishana! Is it thy will this should be permitted?"
"Not only my will," said Vibhishana firmly, "but my determination. The hour for vengeance has struck. Tell me, my captain—how many of the old guard stand ready to strike a blow for honor and the elder suzerainty?"
"Many, my Lord," replied Thalakka humbly. "And many more when the news of thy release bruits about. The corridors leading to the lakeside port are even now lined with those of my men who love thee above the cruel Ravana. Thus prepared I for thy escape—"
"And thus," nodded Vibhishana, "shall our earthborn allies return to rally their forces. But meanwhile I remain to gather about me those who would fight my cause. Vanguard of my new army shall be those with whom I languished in these dungeons. Can you arm them?"
Thalakka glanced dubiously at the ragtag aggregation of human flotsam seeping through the bronze gate. He nodded.
"Aye. Even so, my Lord."
"Then do so. And now, Ramey Winters—" Vibhishana pressed the young American's shoulder warmly—"for a time we must part. But all of us know the Plan. We shall create a diversion for your escape. Haste to the mainland and bring to Lanka as speedily as possible all the fighting-men Sugriva has gathered. If fortune favor us, we shall have won a foothold on some niche of Lanka. That spot will be your landing-place. Now go—and may the gods go with you!"
Ramey said nothing. But his jaw was set in a line that boded no good for any man who tried to restrain him from his part of the Plan. He glanced at Thalakka. The captain gestured.
"This way, Lord Ramaíya—"
And stealthily the trio moved upward from the bowels of Lanka, while behind them a fledgling army surged from pits of darkness and despair into a world of new hope....
Thrice the adventurers passed posts whereat Videlian guards stood watch; thrice a hasty sign, a word from the Captain Thalakka, caused these sentries to glance the other way. Only once had they to pass a warrior whose allegiance was not pledged to Vibhishana, but his brother. And Thalakka brazened his way past this station with a word of explanation.
"Prisoners from the camp of Sugriva. Being taken to the Lord Ravana for questioning."
And at last, having ascended countless stages, they were in a small chamber through the windows of which blew the sweet, clean night air of lake waters. Here Thalakka halted.
"This room fronts on the waterside. Beyond that door lies a small, private wharf, beside which waits a skiff. It is watched now, but you hide here and wait. I shall return to arm the friends of my Lord Vibhishana. When this is done, these men and those of my soldiers whom I can trust will attack the third level garrison of the citadel. An alarm will draw the guard from the wharf. When he leaves, you must get to the boat swiftly and flee to the mainland."
Ramey said simply, "We understand, Thalakka. Thank you."
The Videlian captain smiled. "I accept your thanks, Lord Ramaíya, but I need them not. My heart tells me I have done well. Godspeed to you!"
And he was gone. Sheng-ti and Ramey took concealment in convenient shadows, and again embarked on the nerve-wracking experience of waiting ... waiting ... waiting ... until an alarm should sound the moment for their next move.
It came at last, after so long a time that Ramey's muscles were stiff with crouching, his palms damply cold with apprehension, his nerves atingle with flame. It came with a crashingcroo-oo-onge!of sound that smashed through the corridors of Lanka, rolling and echoing, re-echoing. The beat of a mighty hammer on a monstrous gong.
Then voices shattered the silence of the sleeping citadel, the vaulted avenues rang shrill with the clatter of armed men racing to their appointed posts, and—it may have been pure imagination—from far below Ramey thought his ear detected the harsher cries of battling men, the faint echoes of weapons clashing in combat.
His every instinct yearned to be part of that combat, but such was not his rôle in the campaign. Lightly he rose from his hiding place, raced across to the windows. As Thalakka had predicted, the curious guard had been drawn from his post by the clamor. By the filtering gleam of a newborn moon Ramey saw the dock and the tiny, bobbing object at its side.
"All right!" he breathed to Sheng-ti. "Come on!"
And the hopes of his well-wishers were realized. No eye spied them as they clambered through the portal, over a tiny balcony, and down to the lakeside. No voice lifted to question them as they unleashed the rocking craft beside the pier. Elsewhere on Lanka new lights flashed from a score of windows, the cries of captains rallying their men split the quiet night. But as far removed from all this hubbub as two gray ghosts were Ramey Winters and his companion. Silently they slipped boat from wharf, silently dipped blades into the water. And in the space of a dozen breaths, they were off to the distant shore on which dimly gleamed the campfires of the army of Sugriva.
It was a tedious trip for two oarsmen, one of whom had not touched an oar for twenty years, the other of whose hands was more accustomed to the slim control stick of an airplane. But dimmer and more shadowy in the distance grew the isle of slaves, ever nearer and more cheerful loomed before them the camp toward which they strained. Until at last they could distinguish figures about the campfires, could almost hear the voices of their friends. And then—
"Ramey! Ramey Winters!" Sheng-ti stopped pulling at his oars, craned back toward his friend. "Hark! I heard the crack of oarlocks—"
Ramey stiffened, his feathering oars shipped swiftly. Over the steadylap-lapof lake water he too now heard that which had alarmed thebonze. He whispered, "Over that way!"
"Ravana's men. The rebellion has been subdued, and they've come after us!"
Ramey laughed; a short, hard, mirthless husk it was.
"Well, they'll never take us—now! Not while we're alive!" He tugged from his waistband that which until now he had avoided using; his automatic. Leveled it uncertainly toward the fear-inspiring sound. Waited....
And a cold voice gritted on his eardrums.
"You there in the other boat! Who are you, and what are you doing?"
Land-bridge to Lanka
It is in moments of great stress that man's emotions play the strangest pranks.
When he heard that voice, Ramey Winters had been on the verge of firing into the pale heart of mist that engulfed him. Now suddenly his fingers were nerveless, the automatic tumbled unheeded from his hand, and his voice cracked with a cry of almost hysterical laughter.
"Red! Red, it's me—Ramey! And Sheng-ti."
Now wood scraped wood, another boat loomed dark beside them, and Red Barrett's hard, familiar features stared across at Ramey. The redhead's eyes were wide with gladness; with joyous abandon he brandished his own pistol in delighted circles.
"Ramey, you old son-of-a-gun! Am I ever glad to see you! We'd just about given you up for—"
He stopped, hesitant, apologetic. Ramey grinned.
"Dead? Nothing like it, guy. I take a lot of killing. But I wouldn't like to check out on the friendly accident list. You'd better put that pea-shooter away before you hurt somebody."
Barrett said, "Hold the boat, chum, I'm coming over." To a dim figure in his own craft, "Take this crate home again, James. I won't be needing it no more tonight."
"Who was that with you?" asked Ramey curiously when his friend had safely trans-shipped. "One of the O'Briens?"
"Syd and Lake? No, they're in a huddle with Sugriva and Doc Aiken and Kohrisan. My chauffeur was one of them ape-soldiers. You know what, Ramey? We had them all wrong. You get to know those hairy little guys and they're okay."
"I've been meeting some people like that," Ramey nodded, "myself. How strong a force have you gathered?"
Red said, "Gimme them oars, Sheng-ti. You look like you're pooped. Me and Ramey can take her in from here. You said 'force', keed? Well, now, that all depends. If we was back in the good old Twentieth A. D. I'd say it wasn't worth a hoot in hell. Hitler's blitzers would make hash out of it in something like ten seconds of the first round. But for this day and age, it ain't bad. About six divisions of talking apes, and maybe twice that many natives. But the hell with that. How about you? What have you been doing? And did you get the Bow? And where's Sheila?"
"I'll explain everything," said Ramey, "when we meet the others. Let's dock this jaloppy first."
"And that," concluded Ramey some time later, "is how things stood when we fled Lanka. Ravana still has the Bow, but it has not yet been charged. Sheila is under lock and key in the innermost chambers of the palace. Vibhishana is fighting to maintain a foothold within the citadel itself. How his fight is coming along we have no way of knowing, but it's a damned sure thing he can't hold out forever. We must come to his assistance, and do it before either his force is wiped out or Ravana fuels the Bow. Or—"
He shrugged expressively. Sugriva finished for him,
"Or Earth," he said soberly, "will be a vassal state to the Videlian overlord for the gods only know how many centuries. Yes, Ramey Winters, we must move—and move fast."
"You have mapped out a campaign?"
"Tentatively. Our native friends are throwing boats together for us ... boats, rafts, skiffs, anything navigable. Under cover of tomorrow's midnight we had hoped to have enough of these to land a small scouting force. A suicide squadron whose sole purpose would be to effect a landing, open a land salient. If they can hold their ground for twenty-four hours, we should be able to reinforce with another three or four divisions."
Barrett glanced at his friend anxiously.
"Well, Ramey? What do you think of it?"
Ramey shook his head slowly.
"It won't do. It's the old story of Britain inourtime: 'Too little and too late.' Sheng-ti and I have viewed Lanka and its defenses. Ravana has been preparing for this, Lord Sugriva, ever since he usurped the throne from his blood-brother. Lanka is a gigantic fortress, protected by a horde of armed and ready warriors. They would wipe out our 'token army' before it ever set foot within the castle walls."
The blue lord of Chitrakuta bowed his head sorrowfully. "You are right, my friend. And the fault is mine because I tried ever to espouse the dream of friendship amongst men, art, beauty. I have failed in my duty as a ruler and a protector of earth. I should have anticipated this eventuality and prepared for it."
Dr. Aiken said gently, "It is not your fault, Lord Sugriva, that the hearts of some are good and the hearts of others evil. But—whatcanwe do, Ramey?"
"I'm trying to think," fumed Ramey desperately. "I know we must do something—and swiftly!—but the fact remains that we stand here boatless, powerless to move against Ravana's Gibraltar—Gibraltar!" He laughed ruefully. "The Isle of Lanka is more secure from invasion than eventhatbit of rock, because it's farther from the mainland."
Syd O'Brien said gloomily, "Yes, but don't forget, Winters, there's an Achilles' heel to any place if you can only find it. Armies have been trying unsuccessfully to take Gibraltar for centuries. But it's invaded every night by those who know how to do it."
Red Barrett stared at the pessimistic twin, puzzled.
"Invaded? Old Gib invaded? What are you trying to hand us, chum? You mean from the air? But we ain't got no airplanes—"
Dr. Aiken said, "No, Barrett, that's not what Sydney means. He is referring to a well-known fact which has baffled engineers, soldiers and scientists alike for many years: the fact that the Rock of Gibraltar, though a rock-bound island, is 'invaded' and deserted at will by the Barbary Apes."
"The who-berry which?"
"Barbary Apes. The monkeys whose natural habitat is the African coast, some twelve miles distant. How these Apes enter and leave the Rock is, and has been, and probably always will be a mystery."[11]
Ramey said impatiently, "Very interesting. But we've no time for legends now, Doctor. Suppose we—"
He was interrupted by the single member of that assemblage least prone to voicing opinions. That one was the monkey-captain, Kohrisan. It was hard to read emotion on his curiously wizened face, but his eyes had widened as Dr. Ian Aiken spoke. Now he leaped from his seat excitedly, pushed forward.
"Excuse me, my Lord Janakan," he chattered in that voice which, though it spoke human words, would always carry a flavor of the jungles whence he had sprung. "Excuse me—but—these invaders you called 'apes.' Were they 'new men' like myself?"
"Yes, Captain Kohrisan. Quite like yourself. Save that they do not speak the tongue of men—"
"The Burrowers!" cried Kohrisan. "I have heard of them not only at this 'Jibra altar' you speak of buthere—here at the Lake of Lanka! It may be true, the tales I have heard!" The little warrior was wildly excited now, beside himself with thoughts incomprehensible to the less impetuous humans. "Excuse me, my Lords! Your permission to withdraw, my Lord Sugriva? Thank you!" And without even waiting for the Gaanelian's acquiescence, he scampered from the meeting.
Red Barrett stared after him, amused.
"Nice little guy, just the same," he said. "Kind of whacky, maybe, but a lot of humans are that way, too. You were saying, Ramey—?"
"I was saying," continued Ramey, "that our best bet seems to be another attempt to get the Bow of Rudra. We must give up our dream of an invasion in force. Select a group of our sturdiest fighters, join Vibhishana and somehow gain our way to Ravana's chamber. Once we have the Bow—"
"We are still powerless," finished Sugriva. "Hate me, O my friends, for ever thus disrupting your dreams. But the fact remains that we, no more than Ravana, have the fuel with which to charge the precious weapon!"
Lake O'Brien, who had been strangely silent for one usually so volatile, glanced at Ramey quizzically now.
"Touché, Winters," he acknowledged. "The Bow is no earthly use to us if it isn't working. And we have even less likelihood of fueling it within the deadline than has Ravana. Damn his rotten hide," he concluded almost as an afterthought.
It was, thought Ramey Winters with a sickening sense of fate preordained, like standing up against a fighter who outweighed you by fifty pounds. Whose skill and reach and strength were all greater than yours. Every time a plan presented itself, logic came rushing in to overthrow it.
He said, shakenly, "And what is this fuel, Sugriva? Have you none whatsoever at Chitrakuta?"
The blue lord shook his head regretfully.
"Not an ounce, child of earth. It is too rare. My brother Rudra, with all his scientific wisdom, succeeded in deriving only a tiny amount for his purposes from the mines at our disposal. Now all that has been used up.
"It is a metal. A most precious metal, ash-silver in hue, light as the down of a swan's breast, smooth to the touch—"
Ramey surrendered. "Okay," he said haggardly. "I'm licked. That's what Vibhishana told me, too. So I guess my idea wasn't so good, either. We'll have to think of some—"
"Sugriva!" That was Dr. Aiken breaking into the conversation. "The rare and precious metal you spoke of—"
"Banaratha," supplied the blue lord. "That is its name."
"Banaratha," nodded the old archeologist. "Would it by any chance look like—this?"
And he brought from his pocket an object, handed it to the Gaanelian. For the first time since they had met him, Sugriva's calm was shattered into a thousand bits. His mouth dropped agape, his eyes widened, he rose, hand half-atremble. "But this—" he cried—"this isbanarathaitself! The pure metal, the rare and vital gem of metals!"
"Sweet potatoes!" howled Red Barrett. "Now where'd Doc get a hunk of that boogie-woogie stuff? Give me a gander, Doc!" Then, as he craned at the object Sugriva so tremulously held in his palm, his tone changed to one of disappointment. "Why, what's all the shouting about? That stuff's nothing but plain, old everyday—"
"Aluminum!" cried Lake O'Brien, glimpsing it. "Now I understand, Doctor! Of course it was rare—in this day and age! Until 1886 aluminum was so rare and so expensive as to be a laboratory curiosity.[12]Then Charles Martin Hall discovered that an electrolysis of bauxite dissolved in cryolite did the trick! So that's the 'rare metal' which fuels the Bow? Then, boys, we're walking ore-mines! Turn out your pockets!"
Ramey Winters had no pockets to turn out. He still wore the garb in which he had first visited Lanka, not having found time yet to change back to more comfortable garments. But his contribution was not needed. Dr. Aiken, Syd and Lake O'Brien, Red Barrett, all wore Twentieth Century clothes. They went to work on themselves, "Like mongrels scratching for fleas!" as Lake O'Brien put it. And the result of their self-appraisal was, a few minutes later, a pile of miscellaneous objects on a table before them which Sugriva declared positively would not only charge, but re-charge and charge yet again the dreadful Bow of Rudra!
Tunic-buttons, "luck-pieces" Barrett had picked up in Shanghai, a belt-buckle, suspender-clips from Syd's gaudy braces ... these were some of the aluminum items they found on them. The tiny reflector Dr. Aiken had first shown Sugriva, a waterproof match-box from Syd, a patent screw-top container of ephedrine-inhalant used by Lake in hay-fever season ... these joined the growing pile. It was an amazing assortment of junk. But looking upon it, the time-farers felt new hope dawning within them for the first time since Ravana's flight from Chitrakuta. And Ramey cried exultantly:
"We'll go back to the plan I suggested! We'll take the Bow from Ravana if I have to kill him with my bare hands to do it! We'll reach Lanka if we have to swim there—"
"But—" chattered a shrill and jubilant voice from the doorway—"it will not be necessary to do that, my Lord Ramaíya!"
Ramey whirled to look into the grinning face of the ape-captain, Kohrisan.
"Eh? What's that, Captain? Why not?"
"Because," declared the furry warrior staunchly, "I have won us new allies and found a better way. We willwalkto the Isle of Lanka!"
Invasion
"Walk there!" The blue lord of Chitrakuta stared at his small captain confusedly. "Kohrisan, what mean you?"
Ramey drew back the Bow of Rudra and clutched the firing lever.
Ramey drew back the Bow of Rudra and clutched the firing lever.
Ramey drew back the Bow of Rudra and clutched the firing lever.
"What I say, my Lord," grinned the 'new man' exuberantly. "When I left thee, I went out even into the jungles to call my less fortunate brothers. They answered my call ... and here is one of those who will show us the way." He drew back a flap of the pavilion in which they were gathered. A small, hairy figure edged in cautiously, glanced at the assembled humans and scuttled to Kohrisan's side fearfully.
Kohrisan chattered to the ape in swift monosyllables which meant nothing to the others. The beast's tremors died. Kohrisan turned proudly.
"My brother is a member of that clan which we of the jungles call 'The Burrowers.' They are not dwellers-in-the-trees, like the forest banderlogs. They make their homes in caves and hollows. Aye, and such artificers are they in delving that their tunnels put to shame even the works of their human brothers. Is it not so, O kinsman?"
It was Sugriva, who had spent long years in striving to improve the lot of these lesser men, who understood Kohrisan's meaning first.
"You mean, Captain Kohrisan," he asked breathlessly, "the Burrowers know of such a tunnel—to Lanka?"
"Even so, my Lord. And our brother, here, will show us the entrance to the underground passage." The ape-human grinned, exposing gleaming fangs. "They are clever builders, my brethren. The eyes of man are not keen enough to find the spot whence their passage leaves the mainland; nay, nor even where it disgorges into Lanka's very citadel. But it exists, even as Burrowers elsewhere built the tunnel which leads from Afric to the Altar of Jibra."
Ramey Winters struck his hands together gleefully.
"Then this fight's not over yet! It's just started—and the odds have changed! Come on! Let's see what this tunnel looks like!"
Thus it was, that hours later, as the jet curtain of jungle night trembled insecurely at its horizon, threatening to rise at any moment in the pearly flame of tropical dawn, Ramey stood for thesecondtime at the mouth of the cavernous tunnel whose other maw disgorged into the very heart of Ravana's island stronghold.
This time he was not accompanied by a mere handful of his friends, and by a single chattering Burrower whose explanations had to be translated by Captain Kohrisan. Behind him were arraigned six full divisions of the ape-warrior's troops. Hairy archers, bows gripped and ready for split-second use, quivers abristle with shafts of feathered death ... ape-lancers, stalwartly clenching razor-edged spears ... ape-swordsmen, fully aware of what this battle meant to them and their kind. A great future, new manhood if it succeeded; a return to jungle savagery for all their kind if it failed.
Heading these was their commander, Kohrisan. Only human companion of Ramey on this expedition was Lake O'Brien, who insisted on becoming a member of the party.
"I'm going with, Winters," he declared flatly. "So take it or leave it!"
Ramey said worriedly, "But it—it's dangerous. We may run plunk into a detachment of Ravana's soldiers, and be wiped out before we even effect an entrance—"
"Sure," assented Lake cheerfully. "And we may bump into trolls and gnomes in yonder tunnel. It looks sinister enough. Stop talking, Ramey. You're wasting time. If anything should happen to you, there ought to be another earthman at Kohrisan's side. Anyhow—" He grinned—"I'd rather walk to Lanka than ride one of those junky boats. I get seasick easy."
Ramey surrendered, not without a secret pleasure at the gay O'Brien twin's insistence. He turned for the last time to Red Barrett.
"Got everything straight, Redhead?"
Barrett nodded.
"Check, pal! We let you get a half hour's start. Then me and Syd pile the other divisions of native soldiers into the boats and row slowly toward Lanka, making as much of a fuss as we can. That'll attract their attention, make 'em split up their forces, and relieve some of the pressure on old Vibby-what's-his-name."
"Right! And don't attempt a landing. Stay out of bow-range until you get some sort of signal from us. We'll try to clear a landing-port for you. Well—" Ramey took a deep breath, glanced at Kohrisan—"I guess we're set. Give the command, Captain."
And with the voluble little jungle-creature beside them, chattering, guiding, he and the ape-captain led the way into the underground passage.
Had Ramey Winters been in exploring, rather than expeditionary, mood he would have found much to marvel at during the ensuing march.
Kohrisan had not exaggerated when he had called his Burrower brethren magnificent artificers. This tunnel, Ramey Winters was forced to concede, was as great an accomplishment as any ever wrought by supposedly superior Man. For a short space it dipped downward into the earth, out under the lake-shallows, on a gentle cline. Then it straightened, became a passage smooth and straight and true as if bored by a gigantic drill.
It did not provide quite enough head-room for Ramey and Lake. Six-footers each, they soon found their shoulders aching under the strain of walking with heads lowered beneath an arched roofway built to accommodate dwarfish figures. But this was the only inadequacy of the tunnel. In every other respect it was perfect. Its floor was smooth and dry. Its walls were hewn to glassy perfection, and by the light of the torches the wayfarers bore shone with a strange, azure glow.
How this wonder had been wrought was a question that perplexed Ramey, but his one effort to learn met with scant success. Kohrisan could not tell him, and the Burrower would not. Incessant chatterer the ape was, but he refused to tell this secret of his clan. So Ramey shelved the problem for the time being, resolving that at some later date he would try again.[13]