"An explosive!" Zenas Wright almost shouted the words. "You have a brain in that red head, my boy. With the proper chemicals it might be done." He clapped Everson on the shoulder. "With you to help me, it might be done. What do you think, lieutenant?"
"I would do most anything to get a chance at this nest of devils," said Everson, and his eyes glittered. "I have not trusted this man. I do not know that I trust him now. But if he is playing fair, there seems no other way. Whatever you decide to do, I am with you, and will do my best. If we can find the chemicals, we can make an explosive powerful enough to move a few tons of stone, if that will do any good."
"Break you the wall, and I will promise you the rest of the trick," the captain cried, "or Ruthar will die to the last man on the road to Adlaz!"
He considered for a moment.
"One man I can surely take with me to Ruthar," he said. "Two will double, aye more than double the risk; and three would more than triple it. Still, it may be accomplished. I must have a little time; but I will do my best.
"Now, my brother, what say you? If I can bring it about so that you and the old man here, Father Zenas, and this other, who, though he trust me not, I will yet play fair by—if I can manage it that these go with me to Ruthar—will you come, also?"
"What of these others?" Polaris asked, and looked at Rose Emer.
"Here they must stay," Oleric answered.
"'Twill be hard enough to take the three of you—and slaying will be done before it is accomplished. It is impossible to take more. By the way which we shall go, no woman might pass undetected. But I tell you they shall come to no harm in your absence. The very law of the land protects them. They be marked for the ceremonies of Shamar. Until the appointed time, not even the king himself dare harm them. Bethink you, brother; this is the only way."
"Yonder on the ship you made a promise, Oleric," replied Polaris. "I think you will try to keep it. I trust you. But there are other things to consider." He addressed himself to Rose Emer.
"Lady, you have heard this madness, which yet, as says the captain, does seem to be the only road save that to death. In such things ofttimes the heart of a woman is wiser than the brains of men. Let your heart answer. Shall I go to Ruthar, and with this man and his people fight my way back to Adlaz, if it may be done?"
"The future of this company hangs on your word, lady," put in Oleric. "And I make another promise. By day and by night I will not leave the side of my brother. If he shall find that in any word I have lied, if he shall meet with any treachery through me, then let him wring this red head from off my shoulders."
"If we stay here, we must die to-day, or be separated and die later," Rose Emer said with a shudder. "And our friends, if they do not die, face a life of slavery." She looked into the face of Polaris, and though her lips trembled and the tears started to her gray eyes, she said bravely:
"Go to Ruthar, and come back if you can. If you do not come, I will know that you have done all that a man can do."
"I will go with you, Oleric," Polaris said simply. "Now, what is your plan?"
"This," answered the captain. "When the guards come, as they will presently, you, my brother, will go with them to the dungeons that lie below this house. Though they are cut in the rock they are lighted well and are not terrible. You will not fare badly there. The ladies will be quartered above here, and I will exert my influence to see that they are treated well. These others will not fare so well; but they are men, and can stand it. Let them do as they are bid without protest. Within ten days from this day I will plan to have you out of your prison, and will contrive, also, to bring with me Father Zenas and the captain of the ship. By stealth or by force, we shall seize a marizel, pass through the hidden canal from Adlaz to the harbor, thence to the sea and down the coast to Ruthar.
"I shall have some aid; for within the walls of Adlaz there is one other man of Ruthar who is faithful to me. You may wonder how it is that I, who am of Ruthar and hate Adlaz, yet am a captain in the service of Bel-Ar. Years ago I passed the Kimbrian Wall, coming as a spy and giving it out that I was the son of Maeronican parents taken captive in a foray; that I had been born in Ruthar, but had escaped into my own country. Here I have stayed at the bidding of the Goddess Glorian, ready against the time for which all Ruthar waits. Bel-Ar likes men of brains. I have some, and I have risen to be one of his captains. Also, I have learned much. That is all my story."
"Who is the Goddess Glorian?" Rose Emer asked. "Is she the queen of Ruthar?"
Oleric's eyes widened at the question; but he answered readily enough:
"Yes, lady; she is the queen."
"You say that there are great beasts in Ruthar," said Zenas Wright. "What are they—elephants?"
"No; they are not what you call elephants," replied the captain. "O'Connell thought they were until he saw them. Then he gave them another name, which I have forgot. He told me of elephants; but they must be puny beasts compared to those which dwell in the forests of Ruthar. We call them amalocs. This man is a giant." He pointed to Minos, who stood six feet eight on his naked feet. "But were he twice as tall, he could not look across the back of an amaloc. But they are shaped like the elephants of which O'Connell told, and, like them, they are tusked. Their bodies are covered with red wool—almost as red as is my own thatch."
"Elephas primigenius!Mammoths, no less," said Zenas. And he added under his breath, "I will believe that when I see them, my friend."
Low as were his words, Oleric heard them.
"You shall see them, Father Zenas," he said, and laughed.
Presently came the guards, and the friends were separated. Some of them were never to be reunited.
Deep in the rock below the old palace of Bel-Tisam, where Mordo ruled, the guards led Polaris Janess, and left him there. Oleric had spoken truly concerning the place, and the captive might have fared much worse in a modern prison in a civilized land. For the place was roomy and well ventilated, and, above all, it was clean. A chamber or cell, it was, some forty feet square by thirty feet in height. Its outer wall was the living rock. On the other three sides was masonry. A circular door of bronze, small and of great strength, was its only entrance.
Through that door from the corridor without stepped Polaris, and behind him, close as a shadow, padded the huge dog, Rombar, rumbling in his throat so that the guards shrank from him. The door clanged shut, and the bars and wards clashed into place. The guards had neither bound nor chained Polaris. They had not even searched his clothing. The thickness of the dungeon walls was their guarantee that he would do no mischief; and besides, they went well armed.
Air entered the chamber through mortises in the wall near the ceiling and above the ground level, where began the foundation of the palace. It was lighted by a single globe, with its enclosed curious battery—mitzl, the Maeronicans called it; but the Americans had decided that the source of the light was some new application of electricity.
By the light from the globe Polaris saw that he was not alone in the cell. A small man, whose features were concealed by a mat of unkempt gray hair and a shaggy beard, sat on a low cot in the angle of the wall nearest to the door. He was clothed in rags.
This man did not look up when another was thrust in to break his solitude, but bent low over something which he had on the cot, swaying back and forth as he sat, and crooning softly to himself.
Polaris cast his fellow prisoner a glance, and then fell to pacing up and down the length of the cell. His mood was gloomy. Above him somewhere through those gray walls dwelt his dear lady; but, ah, how far away! For he was powerless now to comfort her or to aid. Oleric would keep faith. Of that he was sure; but his heart misgave him mightily lest the plans of the captain should go awry.
Yes; above him were Rose and Lady Memene, who through the long weeks of their prisonment, each night when they went to rest, would kneel and pray for his welfare and that of Minos and the others, and that all plans might prevail.
Presently the son of the snows sat himself on a second cot on the far side of the chamber, and fell to fondling Rombar and toying with the dog's pointed ears.
"Good Rombar," he said. "Good fellow and comrade."
At his words, the man in the corner sprang up from his cot as though fire had touched him. He shrieked hoarsely and tottered across the floor, moving and clawing at the air with his hands. Unheeding the snarling menace of Rombar, he came on until he stood in front of the cot where Polaris sat holding the dog back by the collar.
The man bent over, resting his hands on his knees, and peered into Polaris's face with darkling, rheumy eyes.
"Hinglish!" he croaked, gasping for his breath. "Hinglish! Did Hi 'ear a Hinglish word, or was I a-dreamin'? Sye?"
He trembled in a terrible eagerness.
"You did, indeed," Polaris said gently. "Now tell me how you came here, who speak it also, and who are you?"
"Gor'bly me; Hi never 'oped to 'ear another Hinglish word in this life—me wot's rottin' 'ere into my grave!" the man said. "Gor'! Gor'!" He subsided into a tattered heap on the floor of the cell, covered his eyes with his shaking, grimy hands, and sobbed hysterically.
Restraining the dog, which would have sprung upon the weeping man, Polaris leaned forward and patted the poor fellow on the shoulder.
"Who are you, and how do you come to be in a Maeronican dungeon?" he asked.
"Jack Melton's me nyme, sir," the man said brokenly. "Hi'm from old Lunnon, Gor' bless 'er! Hi was cook on the shipAldine, sir, from 'Ong-Kong to Durban, round the Cape. We got off our course, and the bloody devils sunk us—skewered us like a mutton shank, sir, with a streak of light. An' w'y in 'ell they did it, sir, is more than Hi can tell.
"Hi floated free on a cask—a biscuit cask, sir. Or mayhap it was a 'encoop; Hi've forgot, Hi was that flustered. Hup bobs a bloomin' big gold ball from the sea—it's Gord's truth. They took me aboard, an' they brought me ashore. They sets me to work in their mines; but Hi'd not do a stroke for them, sir. Hi near killed one of the bosses. Then they brought me here, sir. Oh, Gor'! Oh, Gor'-a-me!"
He broke out weeping afresh and rocked himself back and forth.
"How long have you been here?" questioned Polaris.
"That Hi can't tell, sir," Melton replied. "Hi used to keep count of the weeks an' months; but Hi lost it. Mayhap 'alf a year; mayhap a year."
Melton fell silent for a time. Then he chuckled to himself and tottered to his feet.
"Hi'llget even with 'em, sir," he said. "Never fear;Hi'llget even. Come an' see, sir."
He took Polaris by the hand and led him across the floor to the other cot. "Look!" he said, and fumbled back the ragged covers.
Beady black eyes glistened among the rags. A sharp and whiskered gray snout was thrust forth, twitching and sniffing; then another and another. A mother rat and two half-grown young ones were hidden in Melton's bed. Out they crept to their master's coaxing, only to scurry back, squeaking, when Rombar thrust his head from behind Polaris, whining with eagerness to be at them.
"Keep the tyke back, sir," said Melton. "'E frights 'em. This 'ere's 'Enrietta, an' 'ere's Bobby an' Bill. 'Enrietta's an old fool, an' Bobby's no better; but Bill, 'e's a wonner, sir. See!"
From his breast he took a splinter of wood, to which was attached a bit of frayed red rag, on which he had rudely drawn in black the lines of the Union Jack. He placed one of the young rats on his palm, and laid the sliver with its frayed shred of bunting in front of the little animal. Softly he began to whistle the bars of "God Save the King."
"Come, Bill; 'urry," he said, and resumed his low whistling. The rat took up the flag in its teeth and sat on its haunches in its master's hand. As long as the whistling continued the little beast shook its head vigorously, waving the tiny emblem. When Melton ceased the anthem, Bill let fall the flag and swarmed, squeaking, down the man's arm, to nestle away among the rags at his breast.
"Gor'bly me, Bill, you're a wonner!" Melton said with pride. He placed his strange pet back with the others and pulled the coverlet over them.
"Listen. Hi'll tell you wot no man knows," he whispered to Janess. "They're hoff a plyge-ship. 'Enrietta an' Bobby an' Bill is. They carried it to us from a bloomin' junk at 'Ong-Kong. The cap'n was dyin' of it in 'is cabin when the ship went down, sir. And Hi'm a-nursin' of 'em along, sir. Hi saved 'Enrietta, and she became a mother, sir. When there's enough of them, Hi shall loose them, sir. That's 'ow Hi'll get even. Gor'bly me! Hi'll kill hevery beggar in this land with the plyge. 'Enrietta an' Bobby an' Bill will do it, sir."
Melton sat down on his cot again, and crooned to himself over his pets. He seemed to forget the presence of Janess. Neither then or afterward did he ask Polaris any questions as to how he came to share his prison. Polaris drew away from him and went back to his own side of the cell. He saw that the man was mad.
Twice each day one of Mordo's guards brought the captives their meals—bread and meat and water in generous measure, enough for the men and the dog. Melton from his rations fed his whiskered family.
With his pocket-knife and a bit of wood from the frame of his cot, the son of the snows made shift to keep track of the passing of the days, cutting a nick in the wood for each. "God send that they be not many before the coming of Oleric," he prayed fervently.
One night he was startled from his sleep by an uproar in the chamber. Melton's cursing and shrieking was intermingled with the angry snarls of Rombar. Polaris sprang up and threw off the cloth with which he was wont to darken the mitzl globe when he slept.
Melton was crouched in the middle of the cell. His face was livid and contorted. Tears of rage were on his cheeks, and his breath was coming in gasps. His lips were writhed away from his ragged teeth. In front of him, tensed and ready to spring, was Rombar. On the floor, where it had dropped from the dog's jaws, lay a little bundle of gray fur, still twitching feebly.
Before the impending grapple, Polaris bounded between them and jerked the dog back by the collar.
"What is it?" he cried. "What ails you, Melton?"
Then Janess saw the maimed little fragment of life on the floor, and his face saddened.
"'Fore Gord, 'e's murdered my 'Enrietta!" howled Melton. "The tyke's murdered 'er, Hi sye! And Hi'll kill 'im, Hi will—and you, too, if you tries to stop me! And you, too, Hi says!"
He staggered toward Janess and lunged out with his right hand. Something glistened in the light as he struck. Polaris avoided the blow, and caught and wrenched the outstretched arm. A slender bar of iron fell tinkling to the floor. Janess picked it up. Where it had come from he did not know; but Melton, by patient rubbing against the stones of the wall, had ground it to a needle point.
"Let me at 'im!" the crazed man shrieked. "Hi'll tear 'im with me bare 'ands!"
Polaris pushed him back.
"I am sorry, very sorry, for what he has done," he said. "But he is my good friend, and I shall not let him come to harm. He did but follow the instincts of his nature."
Melton stared at him for a moment, and then, weeping and cursing, retired to his cot. Far into the night Polaris heard him moaning and mumbling to himself, and pitied him.
Janess hid the weapon under his own pillow. Then with strips of his bedding he wove a stout cord, and thereafter when he slept he tied Rombar fast to a leg of the bed.
Days passed away—ten days, eleven, twelve, and still another. And yet there was no sign of Oleric. Polaris's stout heart sank.
In the dark hours of the fourteenth day he awoke. He heard the grating of bronze hinges. At the side of his bed, Rombar growled softly. Polaris snatched the hood from the light.
The door of bronze was open. The mitzl rays shone on the tall form of a man in golden armor.
Oleric had come!
"I am late at my tryst," whispered the red captain, "but I could not manage it sooner. Now we must haste, or 'twill be too late forever." He grinned. "I see your beard has grown somewhat," he said. "Perchance those bristles shall serve well. You are an ill man to disguise. Who is here?" he asked as he caught sight for the first time of Melton, who had not awakened.
"A poor crazed English sailor," Polaris answered. He crossed the chamber, with Rombar at his heels; for he had stopped to undo the rope.
"What? The brute, too?" groaned Oleric.
"I fear we must," Polaris said. "If I leave him, he will rouse the prison with his howling, and I will not slay him. He has been too good a friend. Can we not manage to take him?"
"Aye; bring him," grumbled the captain. "First fetch yonder light."
Janess took down the globe. As he swung it toward Oleric, he saw that the hands of the captain were splashed red with blood. Oleric noted his glance.
"Dead men are behind us," he said. "Thrice to-night have I used my sword—once at the mines, where I got Everson, and twice above. Two of the men of Mordo will turn no more prison keys. Come!"
He stepped cautiously out through the door.
Polaris glanced across to where the mad Cockney lay breathing heavily.
"Some day, if it be given me, I will open this door again and set you free, John Melton," he whispered.
He stooped and went out through the doorway, and Rombar followed.
Outside the door of the dungeon-chamber Polaris stumbled over the form of a tall man in armor, who lay with his face to the floor.
"More death?" Janess asked of Oleric, who busied himself with the bolts of the bronze door.
"Not so," said the captain with a chuckle, as he shot the last bar home in its socket. "Only the death that good wines bring. He has the best part of seven bottles in his skin."
He looked up at Polaris apologetically.
"Bel-Ar would flay him for this night's work, did he find him," he said. "You say the dog has been a good friend to you. Well, this man Mordo, with all his glum ways, is a good fellow. I will not leave my old drinking companion to the mercy of Bel-Ar."
Without answer, Polaris handed the light to Oleric, and stooped and swung the limp figure of Mordo to his shoulder.
Oleric glanced at the keys in his hand and then at the door.
"I'll not turn the locks," he said. "I would not have the poor slave within starve while they made new keys."
He led the way along the corridor, past a broad stone stairway, to the south wall of the old palace, where it fronted on the black avenue called Chedar's Flight. There in the wall were other doors of bronze. Oleric paused before one of them.
"Will I ever enter Mordo's wine-cellars again, I wonder?" he said. He found the key and opened the heavy door. Within, the light disclosed rack after rack, seemingly without end, of dust-covered flagons. They threaded their way among them until Oleric found what he sought. In the stone floor of the chamber in a far corner was a round trap-door of bronze. The captain had to tug one of the wine-racks to one side to disclose it.
"Lay Mordo down, comrade, and help," he said, when his utmost strength had failed to stir the door.
Polaris, still balancing his burden on his shoulder, bent down and caught the ancient ring of the door in one hand. Before Oleric could lay hold to help him he straightened, the mighty muscles of his back cracking with the effort. The door was open.
The trap yawned on a dark stairway leading down through the rock. Far below sounded the plashing of waters. "Mind where you set your feet," warned Oleric as he started down.
"Where are Everson and the old man?" asked Polaris.
"They wait us below in the hidden canal—they and one other," replied the captain. "They entered by another way, while I was busied in the house of Mordo."
Oleric closed the trap and left the keys on the stair-top. Down fully threescore steps they went, and stood on a wharf of stone at the edge of a narrow canal that had been cut in the rock. Overhead, the roof was arched and vaulted. At the lip of the wharf was moored a small marizel, the golden plates of which caught the rays of the lamplike fire.
"All the way from the Temple of the Sun to the harbor of Adlaz this canal leads, cut through the rock underneath Chedar's Flight," said Oleric. He stepped on the rear deck of the little craft and struck softly on its door, which was opened at once. A short man of middle age came onto the deck. He was clothed in the garb of a sailor. As the light fell on him, Polaris saw that his hair was almost as red as that of Oleric.
"Now here is another good man of Ruthar," said the captain. And to the man he said, "Urk, this is the man whereof I have told you." From head to foot, Urk gave the son of the snows a long and searching glance. Then he folded his arms on his breast and bowed low.
With Mordo on his shoulder, Polaris stepped onto the deck and through the door, followed by Rombar.
Oleric closed the double doors of the craft, and Urk, who was skilled about the engines, at once got her under way. Submerged and showing no light, they crept cautiously down the canal toward the sea.
In the cabin of the marizel were Everson and Wright—though Polaris had to look twice and then again to recognize the geologist. Zenas wore the mean black of a servant in the king's kitchens. His white hair had been bobbed and his beard shaved from him. But his little black eyes were as bright and restless as ever, and his voice was hearty as he wrung the hand of Polaris and said:
"Lordy, son, but it's good to see you."
Everson, who had discarded the dirty garments of a delver in the earth for the full golden armor of a Maeronican captain, caught Polaris's hand as Zenas relinquished it.
"Our work has begun," he said, "and begun well. I shall distrust this man no more." He pointed to Oleric. "He has kept his promise in blood. He released me to-night, and he killed a man to do it."
As they neared the harbor, Oleric explained that they would be forced to leave the marizel in the canal and cross the open court of the harbor to the wharves.
"Else we must undergo inspection by the guards at the mouth of the canal," he said. "There is a gate there, and no marizel may pass without inspection. My lucky star it was that made Bel-Ar name me captain of the port in Atlo's stead. But even I could not pass you through the guards. Their eyes are keen, and one of us at least is a marked man in Adlaz." He glanced at Polaris. "There be too many of them to slay," he added. "I would have fitted you out with a suit of mail, brother; but there is none in Maeronica of a size to cover those shoulders of yours—unless it be that of Bel-Ar, which I could not well borrow."
"When we leave this craft, what then, Oleric?" Polaris asked.
"I have another waiting at the end of the southern quay," replied Oleric. "Urk knows the harbor as he knows the palm of his hand. Once through the outer channel, then down the coast to Ruthar."
They left the marizel moored in the canal and went up through a passage in the rock to where a door led into the great arched tunnel above, where Chedar's Flight ended at the harbor of Adlaz town. Now there was only the crossing of the wharf and all would be well.
But hark! As Oleric laid his hand on the door of the passage, came the thunder of hoofs through the tunnel, and a steel rider on a white horse flashed past and clattered across the court to the warehouses. He rode furiously, and as he neared the quays he cried out.
Oleric tore the door open.
"Our work behind there is overtaking us!" he cried. "We must run for it!"
Polaris shifted Mordo's weight from his shoulder to his arms and bounded across the pavement at the heels of the captain. Behind came Wright, Everson, and Oleric's Rutharian henchman. Rombar leaped at the side of Polaris.
Lights flashed ahead of them as they ran. When they neared the south quay, they saw that the way to it was barred by a thin line of men in steel, among whom glittered the golden armor of the captain of the canal guard.
Casting a glance over his shoulder as he ran, to note the disposal of his own party, Oleric drew his sword and charged the line. The guard captain leaped out to meet him, shield up and sword aloft. Him Oleric cut down with a single stroke, laughing as he struck. In another instant Everson's blade was out and busy. His cutlass exercises at old Annapolis stood him well. The line of steel gave. The other three fugitives, running together, dashed through and gained the quay. But behind them came many men.
Polaris laid Mordo on the wharf and looked about him for a weapon. The door of the nearest warehouse was made fast with a bar of bronze or steel, nearly eight feet in length. Janess tore it from its rests. At the end of the quay he saw the marizel of Oleric riding in its moorings, and saw that Urk had clambered aboard it and was making all ready to cast off.
Whirling his ponderous weapon, which was a weight to tax the strength of an ordinary man to lift from the ground, Polaris rushed into the thick of the press, where the red captain and the naval lieutenant fought side by side.
"Get you to the boat!" he shouted. "When all is ready, whistle that I may know."
Clang!The metal bar fell, and three men in steel went down under its sweep. With the agility of a panther, the son of the snows leaped and struck again. At his side black Rombar raged like a demon. Before those terrible blows no man, however well begirt in steel, could stand and live.
The Maeronican fighting men drew back, aghast. The way to the wharf was clear.
Laughing aloud, Oleric drew out of the fight and ran along the wharf to the marizel. Everson paused at the side of Polaris.
"Best go on," Janess told him. "I shall need no aid. Or, if you stay, stand to one side a bit. I have need for much room."
Once more the Maeronican men-at-arms closed in. Polaris, with his bar, charged them, shouting; for his blood was up. They should take him back to no dungeon when his freedom beckoned so near. Two more armored men fell, their mail cracking like egg-shell under the clanging flail that opposed them. Another went down under the murderous jaws of Rombar who fought at his master's thigh.
Loud and clear then sounded the whistle of Oleric. Hurling the bar in the faces of the bewildered men of the guard, the son of the snows ran to the end of the wharf and sprang to the deck of the marizel. Everson entered the door just ahead of him. Oleric and Urk already had stowed Mordo within the vessel and cut loose the mooring ropes.
As he paused for an instant on the rear deck to call the great dog to him, Polaris saw a giant figure come from one of the stone warehouses and run out to the end of the next quay. In the dusk, and at that distance, he yet was able to recognize Minos.
"It is I, Polaris!" Janess shouted. "We leave for Ruthar, if we may win through. Farewell for a space, until we come again."
Back came the deep voice of the king in answer:
"Fare thee well, my brother!" he cried in the ancient Greek of Sardanes. "May the high God guide thy footsteps."
Many a time in after years did the son of the snows recall to mind that scene: the great, circular basin of the harbor of Adlaz, dim under the light from the stars; the glittering fademes that were riding at anchor; the twinkling of mitzl globes along the wharves, where men ran to and fro; the court and its huge, black archway; the armored men of the guard coming on across the wharf; and the tall form of the Sardanian king standing at the end of the quay and waving farewell.
Reenforcements had come to the Maeronican guards, and they rushed the quay. But Urk had his engine going. The marizel shot out into the harbor. In a moment more the little craft had dived beneath the surface. Like an arrow, it clove through the under water. Crafty steersman was Urk. Through the harbor he drove the marizel in safety, and through the tunnel to the sea, meeting no incoming danger. Once out of the channel, he turned the nose of the craft southward, down the coast toward Ruthar.
Miles away, amid the dim Rutharian forests, fierce-eyed men gripped their sword-hilts firmer, and prayed to their stars and their goddess for the safe making of that journey and the glory of the war that was to come. For word had come to Ruthar—over the Kimbrian Wall it had come—that Oleric the Red had turned his face toward home again, bringing with him the man for whom a nation waited.
In the watches of the night arose a great clamor and outcry in the old palace of Bel-Tisam. So loud was the din that it aroused Rose Emer and the Lady Memene from their slumbers in the chamber off the ancient hall where they were quartered. In the outer corridors they heard the clang of feet of armored men and their hoarse shouts as they called to one another. This grew faint and passed away, and then swelled loud and near again, as of men who had penetrated into the lower dungeons of the prison and returned.
Sitting up in their bed and holding each other by the hand for comfort, the two women were afraid for what might have happened.
"Something untoward is on foot," said Memene. "Perhaps this is the night chosen by the red man from the sea" (for so she called Oleric) "to go forth as he did promise, although it is past the time he set for his going."
"Do you think that they have discovered the plan, and that he—Polaris—is taken again? I pray to God that is not so," whispered Rose.
"Something has greatly stirred the guards," Memene replied. "But I do not think that the mighty man of the wilderness and his red friend are taken. Those shouts we heard but now were those of disappointed men."
As the uproar continued through the rooms of the old prison, Rose and Memene arose and donned their garments. Sleep, for that night, had fled them.
Presently they heard, but faint and muffled through the intervening walls, the clatter of hoofs on the pavement of the black avenue as a horse passed by, ridden at furious speed.
A little later the door from the corridor outside the hall of audience was opened, and through it came that captain of the palace-guard who was named Brunar. From Oleric, the captain had learned a few words of the English tongue, and he now made shift with them to tell the two fair prisoners that Polaris and Oleric, and likewise the captain, Mordo, had gone. The escape of Zenas Wright and Everson had not been discovered as yet. Two dead guards in the rooms of Mordo, and the absence of the marizel from its moorings in the hidden canal near the Temple of the Sun, accounted for part of the story. A rider on the fleetest horse in the stables of Bel-Ar, said Brunar, had been sent to the harbor to warn the guards there, so they might trap the fugitives.
From the manner in which his news was received, the captain was able to guess that Rose and Memene knew something of what was on foot. But this Brunar was a very courteous man, and he forbore to question them closely, if indeed he had enough English to do so. In the morning he came again, and told them of the fight at the harbor and the sailing of the marizel; for Brunar now took up his abode in the palace of Bel-Tisam and looked after the duties of Mordo. His two wards found him a kindly jailer, and as indulgent as circumstances would permit him to be, who could not set them free. Brunar was angry indeed at the supposed treachery of Oleric and of Mordo, not knowing that the one was a spy of Ruthar and that the other had had no will in the manner of his going forth from Adlaz.
Report was made later in the day of the escape of Everson from the mines, and of Zenas Wright from the household of the king, and men marveled at the daring of the deed and the craft of it. But the two women in their prison, or Ensign Brooks in the mines, or Minos at the harbor, got no more news of the fugitives for many a long day.
With Urk, the sailor, squatting among the levers of his engine, the marizel of Oleric swam steadily and swiftly down the western coast of Maeronica. Under water she went, well off from the shore and showing no lights. Oleric showed his passengers the marvelous valves in the sides of the little vessel which were similar in construction to the mask with which they already were familiar, and by means of which the air in the marizel was replenished with oxygen drawn from the sea water.
Also, he told them somewhat of the land to which they were journeying, explaining why it was that Ruthar, though smaller and more sparsely populated by far than Maeronica, had never been conquered by the larger power. It was a land of forests and mountains, he said, and all the way around its ragged coastline were huge, precipitous cliffs, the overhanging crags of which were a natural barrier to invasion. Wherever had been a break in the cliff-line, the Rutharians, by dint of great labors, had filled the breaks with walls, closing the gaps so that the only places where one might land on Ruthar from the sea were certain spots where narrow stretches of beach lay at the foot of the towering cliffs.
At only one point could one come at the interior of the country from the sea, Oleric said, and that was at the mouth of a river named Illia. That place was closely guarded, and nature and the hand of man had united to make of it a way where one man might defy a thousand.
Years before, the red captain said, the Rutharians had had a few small ships. But they had little use for them, and with the perfection of the fademes by the Maeronicans, nearly a century before, the Rutharian vessels had been promptly sent to the bottom. Metals were easily mined, and in abundance, especially gold, in Maeronica. But the materials which produced the power for the fademes and for their terrible destroyers were scarce and precious. Therefore, the growth of the navy of Adlaz had been slow.
But with the fulfillment of the mighty destiny of the Children of Ad in mind, the scientists labored unceasingly, and it was in the mind of Bel-Ar that he was to be the man to see the accomplishment of that destiny. He waited but the equipment of a few more fademes to send his dreadful messengers forth to take and hold all the seas on earth, compelling the nations of the world to bow to the power of Adlaz, as tradition told him they once had bowed before.
"Now Ruthar, if her stars shine brightly, shall put a big stone before his chariot-wheels and break his power," Oleric said, "repaying evil with evil until good come of it, and the Goddess Glorian reigns from the capes at the north to the southern seas. And in that I pray that my part shall not be small." With a laugh he added, "This is a strange game for me to play—Oleric the Red, loose-mouthed soldier and slayer of men—who in Ruthar am known as Oleric the learned, a professor in the University of Nematzin, which is hard by the hill of Flomos, on the banks of the river Illia."
"And this Goddess Glorian—" asked Zenas Wright curiously. "Is she a statue in a temple, or the good star of Ruthar, or is she merely a name?"
For once the readiness in answer of the red captain deserted him, and he stared at the geologist with open mouth. Then he said soberly:
"No statue in a temple is the Goddess Glorian. Good star of Ruthar she is surely, and, in addition, she is the fairest woman on whom Shamar ever had looked down from the skies. And now her time comes on, for which she has waited many a hun—"
Oleric broke off suddenly and turned his eyes on Polaris with a strange look.
"Nay," he said; "for the rest you must learn from the goddess herself. My tongue does clack like a shepherd-wife's." Nor would he then or thereafter tell more of Ruthar and its goddess.
Zenas Wright mused to himself, and the train of his musings ran thus: "Oleric, you seem to keep your promises, and you are a good fighter, for I have seen you fight. But when it comes to your tales of living mammoths in this twentieth century, and of a goddess in the shape of a woman who haswaited many a hundred years—for that was what you almost said, my friend—why, then, I can't follow you; and I think you like to draw the long bow."
Swiftly as the marizel traveled, that night wore into dawn, and day and darkness came, and still another dawning, ere Urk turned off his power and filled the air-chambers which raised the vessel to the surface of the sea. They had rounded the southern coast of Ruthar and beat up along the eastern shores, and here, as they arose from the depths, straight ahead of them lay the mouth of the river Illia. When the voyagers saw it, they did not wonder that Adlaz found little fortune in attacking Ruthar by sea.
An irregular fissure in the frowning face of the cliff discharged the river into the sea. That rift was nearly thirty yards wide at its bottom, and narrowed almost to nothingness far above, where the red granite of the headlands towered many hundreds of feet in height. Down the glen in the fissure the river Illia tripped to the sea like a lady down a stately stairway. For the rock of the river-bed was shelving, in strata which varied from less than a foot to nearly three feet in height, and some of the shelves were as much as ten yards in breadth; so that the water came down that great natural stair in a series of broad cascades.
"Up yonder stairway lies the path into Ruthar," Oleric said, pointing, as they stood on the deck of the marizel, and Urk laid the vessel as near to the shelving bank below the river-mouth as he could. "Here we must leave the marizel, and to the kindness of the waves; for there is no harbor in which to store her."
Oleric clambered from the deck and stood up to his knees on the lowermost step of the Illia's wide stairway. The others followed, Urk last of all, haling before him the captain, Mordo, with his hands bound.
For Mordo had proved an unruly passenger. When the fumes of the wine cleared from his brain, which was not for many hours, he had so cursed and raged at Oleric, forswearing all friendship that had been between them, that the Rutharian had lost his temper. He told Mordo roundly that he wished that he had left him to the mercy of Bel-Ar and the priests of Shamar.
"Better that than the company of a traitorous hound," growled Mordo out of a soul in which no gratitude dwelt. Oleric deemed that it was best to bind him, lest he do mischief.
Ascent of the river-stair was not difficult at first, for the steps were broad, and at that season of the year the volume of water coming down them was not so strong but that a man might keep his footing if he used care.
Hardly were the climbers well within the shadow of the glen when there arose from the foot of the stair a mighty shouting and splashing. Oleric spun round with a curse on his lips.
Quickly as they had come from Adlaz town, their destination had been guessed, and others had come almost as quickly. As the fugitives turned, they saw a Maeronican fademe swing alongside the lowermost step of the ascent, her fore and after decks crowded with men, who swarmed off her onto the rock and ran up the stairway. Foremost among them, gorgeous in his golden armor, was the Captain Daelo, and he matched the curse of Oleric with another as he shook his gauntleted fist at his enemy.
"Haste! Haste!" Oleric cried, then pursed his lips and sent a long whistle skirling up the glen. As he did so he lost his footing, clawed wildly at the air and the rocks, and went down.
Though the push of the down-rushing waters of the Illia was not strong enough to sweep a man from his feet if he were cautious, it was yet of sufficient power to keep him going once he fell. From shelf to shelf down the great stairway Oleric went, his armor clanging. More than that, he swept Mordo and the sturdy Urk from their footing, also; and all three of them slid straight into the hands of Daelo's men, outstretched to receive them.
As the soldiers seized Oleric and stood him upright, he wrenched free one arm and waved it at his companion.
"Tarry not for me!" he shouted. "Go on! There be friends waiting at the top—" A soldier smote him on the mouth and silenced him.
On the step where he stood Polaris halted. He bent, and with his strong fingers snapped the strings of his shoes and removed them—for he still wore his own clothing in which he had been dragged from the sea. With his feet bared, he had a better grip on the slippery rock. He snatched the sword of Everson from its sheath and went down the river-path, all unarmored as he was, to meet the swordsmen of Daelo. On they clambered, cursing and shouting; but the way was difficult for their mailed feet, and the son of the snows leaped down at them like an avalanche. With him, breast-deep in the current, went Rombar.
First man to meet the descending danger was Daelo, and he paid the penalty of his temerity with his life. Polaris, striking from above, smote him from his foothold, a blow that shore away half of his golden helm and split the skull within it, and the Captain Daelo pitched backward into the sea.
Another bound and a stroke so bitter that it hewed off the arm of a steel-clad soldier, severing it between wrist and elbow, and the son of the snows had freed Oleric from the hands that held him. Straightway the red captain drew sword and took up the tale. Daelo's men, of whom there were nearly a score, faltered, staggering and slipping on the rocky shelves. Almost their courage was broken, when Polaris caught his naked foot in a crevice in the rock and tripped. Before he could recover, a heavy sword-blade fell upon his unprotected head from behind. He let fall his own blade and sank to his knees and then to his face on the steps of Illia.
Short-lived was the triumph of the Maeronicans. The cry of exultation which greeted the fall of their dreaded enemy was turned into a howl of dismay as half a hundred fierce-eyed fighting men of Ruthar poured down the glen, waving their bared swords and shouting:
"For the Goddess Glorian! Slay the Maeronican dogs!"
That tide overwhelmed the company of Daelo to the last man, and with them died black Mordo. Less by one more fademe was the navy of King Bel-Ar.
When the warriors of the forests turned up the stair once more, they found Oleric kneeling in the water, supporting Polaris's head on his arm, while old Zenas and Everson bound with strips torn from their clothing the gaping wound which the sword-blade had left at the back of his head. Beside the group, Rombar, standing nearly to his neck in the wash of the river, lifted up his head and howled dolefully.
Six strong men took up the limp form of the fair-haired giant and bore it away up the river staircase.
So Polaris came at last to Ruthar.
Up the rocky shelves of Illia the Rutharians trudged and splashed, the chasm becoming ever narrower and more gloomy. With the narrowing of the rift, the water became deeper and its current stronger. Then one of the party uncoiled a long rope from his shoulder, and the party marched on in single file, each clinging to the rope like Alpine climbers.
Oleric urged haste and more haste.
Presently the water was too deep for Rombar, and the current set so strongly that the dog could not swim against it. At an order from Oleric, two Rutharian hunters seized the brute by the collar, and though one of them got a gashed hand for his pains, they bound Rombar's jaws and feet with ropes and carried him on their shoulders—a task which neither they nor Rombar found pleasant.
At a point in the ascent where further progress against the deepening stream was impossible, the party left the bed of the river and clambered to the right, where a flight of steep and narrow steps had been cut in the rock along a fissure which branched from the main gorge. Up nearly two hundred of those steps they toiled, until Zenas Wright and Everson, unused to such exertions, nearly fainted with exhaustion. At the top of the stairs they emerged into a forest of tall trees, oak and pine and chestnut, which grew almost to the edge of the cliffs.
No sooner had he stepped from the rock stairway than Oleric knelt and kissed the black earth.
"This, my friends, is Ruthar," he said as he arose and faced the two Americans.
From among the trees came a tall, white-bearded chieftain, who was armored from head to heel in a wonderful suit of chain mail, links of steel that shone like silver. At his back swung a two-handed sword which was nearly the length of a man.
He advanced to Oleric and laid his hands on the captain's shoulders.
"You are Oleric the Red, and no other," he said. "Well do I remember you. Once I was your pupil. But that was more than three times ten years ago." He shook his head wonderingly. "You serve Ruthar well," he added.
Now, had Zenas Wright been able to understand the speech of Ruthar, he certainly would have set this chieftain down as a hoary-headed liar. For how could he have been a pupil to Oleric the Red more than thirty years before, when it was plain for any one to see that the captain must at that time have been a babe in his mother's arms?
"Aye, Jastla, it is the old red fox come back to his hole again," Oleric answered, striking the old chief fondly across his broad shoulders.
"Which of these with you is the man—the hope of Ruthar?" questioned Jastla. His eyes passed the stubby form of Zenas Wright by and rested inquiringly on the square and soldierly Everson.
Oleric's ruddy face went sober. His voice choked as he answered:
"Nay, Jastla, neither of these. He comes yonder—and I fear that he is sorely smitten."
As he spoke the six Rutharians who bore Polaris Janess came over the brink of the stair and laid their burden down.
Jastla strode to the side of Polaris and looked down at him.
"A mighty man, with golden hair—and comely, as was written in the prophecy," he muttered into his beard. "What has befallen him?" he asked of Oleric.
While the captain told of the fight at the river-mouth, Zenas Wright knelt at Polaris's head and rearranged the bandages, which had become loosened in the rough journey through the gorge. Rombar, who had been that moment untrussed, pushed growling through the group of men and crouched and licked at his master's face.
"Will he live, Father Zenas? Will he live?" Oleric asked. "Tell us, you, who are skilled."
"God knows," groaned Zenas. The hand which he laid on the steel cheek of Polaris shook so that he snatched it away and hid it. "God only knows. There is a little life in him yet."
"He plucked me from the sea," said Oleric wildly. "That was fated of the gods. Twice has he fought at my side. This day perchance he has given his life for me; and that was of his own strong spirit. I tell you, Father Zenas, that if it would do my brother any good, here would Oleric fall upon his sword and render up his soul unto those that sent it forth." Then he controlled himself. "Can he be moved? Can you keep the vital spark within him for a little space, good father? We must haste and get him to the Goddess Glorian. If his soul be not sped when he reaches her, she can hold it back, if any on earth can. Say, Father Zenas, can you do it?"
"I will try," answered Zenas. "If I had a little wine, now—"
"Wine!" Oleric shouted. "Bring wine, some one of you, and haste, though your lungs burst. And slay a kid, so that we may have broth."
A fleet-footed Rutharian lad set off through the forest, running with the speed of a deer.
"Now, Jastla, see you to a horse-litter. Two gentle beasts, mind you, but speedy. For we must travel fast and far. I take my brother to the Hill of Flomos. And send on a swift messenger to the Goddess Glorian, to tell her that the hope of Ruthar lies wounded in the forests and is near to death. Haste, Jastla; haste!"
Wine was brought, and it was good wine; for the grapes that grow in the valleys of Ruthar are the finest in all the world. Zenas Wright forced apart the set jaws of the stricken man, using a sword-point to do it, and even as Dr. Marsey, who was dead, had done for Oleric, poured the purple wine and a little broth into Polaris's mouth. The kindly old geologist could only pray that some of it penetrated to the man's stomach, for most of it was spilled out again when they moved him.
Chief Jastla brought a horse-litter. In it, between two powerful beasts, Polaris was slung. The Rutharians wrapped him closely with blankets and furs. The sun had turned to his northward journey, and in the forests of Ruthar the air was keen with the tang of approaching winter—felt there in the uplands long before it reached to the plains and valleys of Maeronica.
Horses were fetched for Oleric, Wright and Everson, and they set off at once along the mountain trails skirting the mighty cañon of the Illia. An escort of half a score of Rutharian hunters rode with them.
All that day and night and until sunset of the next day they rode with only brief stops at small Rutharian hamlets, where they ate hurriedly and changed horses. Word had been sent on before of their coming, and fresh horses were always in waiting. Sleep they did not, save in their saddles, and the two Americans felt that they might die from sheer weariness.
Oleric did not sleep at all, though of all the party his vitality seemed the least impaired by that racking journey. His face grew haggard and gaunt, and his eyes red-rimmed, but a wonderful determination seemed to sustain his body. He spoke seldom, and then to urge his faltering companions to renewed efforts.
Rombar ran with the horses until he was utterly done up. Then Oleric left the dog at one of the mountain villages, to be brought on later.
In the morning of the second day the party swung to the right, away from the gorge of the Illia, to come to it again about noon and cross it on a bridge of steel and stone that spanned it three hundred feet up from the torrent's course.
Everson, looking at those piles and trusses, judged the building of that bridge to be the feat of no mean engineer. Though there had been a waste of material, the structure would have stood comparison with many a bridge in Europe or America.
Throughout the long ride, Polaris lay like a log in the litter. Occasionally, at the stopping places, the scientist redressed the wound, smearing it with a healing balsam which an old woman in one of the villages had given him. It was a fearsome gash, and Zenas shook his head over it whenever he saw it. The point of the sword had laid open the scalp at the back of Polaris's head for a matter of inches, then had glanced from the bone beneath and bitten deeply into the neck near the spinal column.
Wright sheared the hair away from the wound and stitched it as neatly as he could. Despite his care the edges of the cut turned blue, as is the way with such hurts if they have not expert attention. In the afternoon of that second day's ride he found that Polaris's hands and feet were becoming cold, and that the geologist deemed the worst sign of all.
Shortly after they had crossed the bridge the contour of the country became less wild. They emerged from among the crags and peaks of the mountains into the foot-hills, where the forests were not so dense as above, and from time to time they came upon large spaces of cleared lands with tilled fields and many vineyards.
In one of the forest glades the party passed a spot where a number of fair-sized trees had been uprooted and partly stripped of their branches and bark. Others, still standing, were mere distorted stubs of trees, their trunks scored and twisted and their foliage gone.
"I hope such storms as the one that did this damage are not frequent hereabouts," said Zenas, pointing out the wrecks to Everson.
Oleric heard the remark.
"'Storms,' say you, Father Zenas?" he said. "The storm that went through here walked on four feet. When we of Ruthar see such a sight in the forest, we know that an amaloc has breakfasted there. I forget the high-sounding name you call him by."
"That lad should have been a writer of fiction," said Zenas to himself when the captain had ridden on. "He almost makes me believe in him."
"Gorry-me," Zenas groaned, easing himself in his saddle, "I wish we were at the end of this ride, wherever it is. I do not think that I shall ever be able to walk again. You," he said to Everson, "you ride along there in your golden armor like—what is it?—a paladin of old, and never a word out of you. Well, I'd sooner stand it, at that, than to go back to that roasting-spit I was put to tend in the King's kitchen." Zenas grunted as recollection stung him.
"Why, do you know, one day I was figuring out a bit of calculus in my head, just for practise, and I let the meat scorch; and the head cook actually laid a dog-whip across my back. Yes, sir; me, a fellow in the National Geographic Society, whipped across a kitchen by a greasy-faced dough-slinger who doesn't know gneiss from rotten-stone!"
Wright grunted again at the memory of that indignity, and then rambled on:
"But we've got to stand it all for the boy here, and for the folks we left behind. God knows I'm willing to for their sakes, and worse yet, if it's to come. But I must grumble once in a while, and I can't help it. Say, Everson, do you believe any of that chaff of our red-headed friend about the mammoths?"
The lieutenant did not answer, and Wright, peering into his face, saw that he was asleep in the saddle.
Well down upon his course was the sun, and the shadows of the trees were lengthening eastward, when the travelers, who for some time had been following a smooth, straight road through rolling hills, came to an old Rutharian villa, which stood among its gardens a considerable distance back from the highway. A low wall bordered the grounds at the front along the roadway, a wall with a pillared gateway, where a drive led in from the road. At the foot of each of the pillars, sitting his horse like a statue, was a Rutharian gentleman.
As the weary cavalcade came down the road the two riders left their posts and advanced to meet it, parleying with Oleric. Scarcely half a dozen words passed back and forth when the red captain set up a joyful shout. When he reached the gateway he turned his horse in, bidding the others to follow.
"Here's hoping that some one will introduce me to a bed before I clean forget what one feels like," said Zenas.
At the side of the ancient house the riders dismounted, Everson reeling from his horse like a drunken man and throwing himself face downward on the grass.
Oleric superintended the removal of Polaris from the litter.
The geologist was bending over his charge as the hunters bore him along when he became aware of the tall figure of a woman that came down from the porch of the mansion and hastened along the walk. She had thrown a long, dark red cloak about her shoulders. In the dusk of the garden the scientist could not distinguish her features, but he saw that her hair was dark, or seemed to be, and that she was taller than most women and splendidly formed.
"The Goddess Glorian!" Oleric cried aloud. "Oh, by the stars of Ruthar, but you are welcome!"
Down on one knee sank the captain and kissed her hand.
"Oh, goddess, after all these years I have brought you the hope of Ruthar. But he is sorely wounded—dying—and you alone can save him. We were bringing him to Flomos with all the speed we might, and thought not to find you here."
"Where else should Glorian be, but on the way to meet this man?" she answered simply. "Jastla's messenger reached Flomos this morning. He rode four horses to their deaths upon his way. You have done well, Oleric the Learned."
When he heard the silvery cadences of that voice, though he understood not a word save the name of the captain, a thrill passed through Zenas Wright, old as he was, and through his aged veins he felt the blood course faster. The woman came nearer. He smelled the warm perfume of her hair as she bent and touched the cheek of Polaris with her hand.
"Bring him within, Oleric," she said, "and, oh, haste, for—" Her glorious voice broke. "For he is nearly gone."
Swinging the still form of Polaris shoulder high, the Rutharian hunters passed on and into the mansion, leaving Zenas behind.
"Now, what do you know about that?" gasped the scientist as he sank wearily to the ground beside Everson. "Goddess, indeed! What, I want to know, will Rose Emer say when she learns of this young person? Well, I hope she saves the lad; but she'll need to be a doctor of parts, or I'm a donkey. Poor boy! Poor boy!"
In a few moments came Oleric to show Wright and Everson to their quarters for the night in the rear of the house. And a rare time he had to arouse the lieutenant sufficiently to lead him to bed.
White and still, Polaris Janess lay on a bed in an upper chamber of the old house. By the light from a mitzl globe—trophy of some Rutharian chieftain in a foray over the Kimbrian Wall—the Goddess Glorian bent above him and studied his pale features.
"My friend, my poor friend," she said brokenly. "How often through the weary years I have seen you in my dreams—and now to find you—only to lose you."
Hot tears ran down her cheeks and fell on the stricken man's face.
"Oh! It shall not be!" she said fiercely. "You shall not die—not if Glorian must give her soul to hold you back from the gates of darkness."
Throwing aside her cloak, she drew a chair to the bedside. With her fingers she lifted Polaris's eyelids and held them open. She gazed deep into the tawny eyes, now, alas, so dull and lifeless. For hours she sat there, with no more apparent movement than the man she watched over. The whole strength of her being seemed concentrated in some inward, unyielding struggle.
And as the long hours passed a change came over the sick man. He did not stir. He scarcely seemed to breathe. But his face became less gray and haggard, and the icy chill of death was driven from his hands and feet.
Long after midnight it was when the Goddess Glorian stood up from that bedside and in her heart said wildly, "I have won!"
Summoning her women, who waited without the door, she bade them dress anew the now festering wound and pour a little wine and broth into his throat.
All night long the Goddess Glorian sat and watched him.
In the morning, when Oleric came to the door in answer to her summons, she looked up at him with a wan smile.
"Fear no longer," she said. "The man will live."
On the third day after his arrival at the old Rutharian mansion, Polaris left it. But he knew nothing of that going. He still lay in the heavy stupor which was to hold him thrall for many days. Zenas Wright doubted much the wisdom of moving a man so ill. The scientist himself, after two days' rest, felt scarcely equal to the journey, and the thought of again bestriding a horse made him shudder. Still, he reasoned that it was by a miracle that Janess lived at all, and if she who had wrought that miracle, the Goddess Glorian, said he might be moved in safety, why, doubtless she knew what she was about.
A low, four-wheeled car was brought. Across the box of it the hunters lashed light and springy poles and on them piled robes and blankets, making a soft and easy bed for the sick man. At the head of that couch rode the Goddess Glorian, cloaked and hooded, and at its foot crouched black Rombar, who had been brought in from the village where he had been left, and who seemed little the worse for his long jaunt. Wright and the lieutenant occupied another smaller car in the rear, and in a third vehicle rode a number of the women of Glorian's household. Oleric, mounted and aglitter in chain armor of steel—for he had discarded as soon as might be the hated golden livery of Bel-Ar—rode at the side of the first car. For escort the party had the company of nearly a score of young Rutharian zinds—zind was the only title of nobility in Ruthar.
So they set out for Flomos, traveling by easy stages and with many rests. The roads were smooth and the country more even than that they had left behind. All along the way, be the time of day what it might, they rode between two long lines of people—people silent for the most part, who stood with bowed heads as the cars and the riders passed by.
Far and wide throughout the land had gone the word that the man who had come to be known as the hope of Ruthar was journeying to Flomos, and the circumstances of that journey. These who lined the road were gathered there to do him silent homage. Satisfied were they if they only caught a fleeting glimpse of his still face on its pillow of furs. Over all of Ruthar went up a many-voiced and ceaseless prayer for his welfare.
"H'm, Everson, folks will never stand like that for us, living or dead," said Zenas Wright to the lieutenant, when Oleric had told them the meaning of the silent lines of people. Despite his banter, the old geologist was deeply touched.
Two days and part of a third they traveled—for they did not hurry—stopping for the nights at the homes of Rutharian gentlemen along the road. It was nearly afternoon of the third day when they followed the winding of the highway around the last low hills of the mountain range and came out upon a plateau-plain of wide extent, in the center of which was a wooded eminence, and on its crest the white pillars of a temple shone in the sunlight.
The road stretched straight across the plain through a broad expanse of tilled lands and gardens, which ringed a city that stood at the foot of the hill. It was scarcely a fifth the proportions of Adlaz, this ancient town of Ruthar, which was called Zele-omaz, or City by the River; but it was a pretty place of broad streets shaded by many trees, gardens and low-built, pleasant homes, with here and there the statelier dwellings of some zind or wealthy man.
Here, too, was the Illia, rock-bound no longer, but a fair and gentle stream, winding through the town and spanned by many bridges.
Skirting the city at the right, the travelers followed a sloping path that led up the hill to where the temple stood.
"Yonder," Oleric said, pointing down to where a group of low buildings of gray stone rambled at the waterside under spreading yew trees, "is the University of Nematzin, of which I am a professor. And there is the laboratory of which I spoke, where we shall make the thunder-dust to shake down the Kimbrian Wall."
"One more day's rest, and I will be fit for anything," answered Everson.
"What do you teach in this university, friend?" Zenas queried.
"A little of the science of the stars, Father Zenas—or I did, for it is many years since I have sat among my pupils—somewhat of history and of language," replied the red captain.
"Humph; you must have been a young teacher," said Zenas Wright, and he ran his fingers through the sprouting stubble of his beard, as he had a habit of doing when things vexed him. Suddenly he jumped in his seat, though the wrench to his sore flesh cost him a wry face.
"Hey! Everson! Look at that, and then tell me if I'm dreaming."
The "that" was a gateway through which the car was about to pass. Oleric followed with a glance the direction in which the geologist pointed and then rode on with a smile.
It was a very curious gate, so curious that, if it still stands, and it doubtless does, for it was built to endure, there is none other just like it in the world. At each side of the roadway was a section of black stone wall, extending along the path a matter of a dozen feet and some ten feet high. At intervals along the tops of the two walls were set round, squat pillars, also of stone. Those had been hollowed out and served as bases for enormous ivory tusks, which were embedded in cement in the hollowed pillars, and from them curved up to meet over the center of the roadway, where their tips were made fast with double sockets of bronze.
Ivory the tusks were; there was no doubting that; weather-checked and stained yellow by age and the elements, but still ivory. But the size of them! No elephant that ever walked the earth bore ivories of such proportions. For they were as large around at their bases as the chest of an average man; and from base to tapering tip there was none of them that did not measure eleven feet. Seven pair of them there were, and all splendidly matched.
Zenas stared back at that marvelous arch—for it was more an archway than a gate—as hard as he could stare. Not until a turn of the road hid it, did he relax into his seat.
"Maybe he isn't so great a liar, after all," he said, and he meant Oleric. "Everson, those are mammoth's tusks—sure's I'm a sinner."
"Strange land, strange things," answered Everson laconically.
The home or temple of the Goddess Glorian on the hill of Flomos was a small thing by comparison with the mighty Temple of Shamar, but in its way was quite as beautiful. Like the temple of the sun-god, the house of Glorian was built all of white marble. Fronting north toward the city of Zele-omaz was a façade of four-and-twenty sixty-foot pillars. A broad, paved porch, reached by half a hundred steps, lay at the foot of the façade. Back of the pillars were twelve double doors of bronze, leading into a lofty hall, the marble dome of which towered high above the pillars and could be seen from the countryside for miles about when the sun shone on it.
Back of the hall the structure was divided into three floors, or stories, each of many roomy chambers and corridors. The whole was well lighted by windows of clear glass, of which an abundance was used in both Maeronica and Ruthar. Behind the temple, southward down the hill, were the dwellings of Glorian's personal retainers and servants.
Well back from the center of the domed hall and near the foot of a grand staircase which led to the second floor, was a raised dais of marble, whereon Glorian was wont to sit and give judgment in matters of state which were too high for the administration of the zinds who ruled in the different cities and provinces. Once Ruthar had had its dynasty of kings, but that was many years before. The royal line died out, and because of certain circumstances at that time the people raised up no more kings. At the time of the coming of the strangers the Goddess Glorian was the absolute power in Ruthar.
On the dais in the throne-room was another wonder for Zenas Wright to see. It was a massive, double-seated chair, constructed, even to the pegs which held its parts together, of ivory like in the giant tusks of the arch. An artist of surpassing skill had wrought that chair and had carved it into the semblance of tall lily-stalks with heavy-headed, drooping blossoms and slender fronds. All around the larger stalks were cut the clinging tendrils of a creeping vine, a tracery as fine as lace.
Wright and Everson were given rooms on the second floor of the temple at its western side. Polaris was borne to a chamber on the upper story, where he was tended by Glorian herself and the servants of her household. Rombar took up his quarters in that chamber also, and only Oleric could lure the dog forth from his master's side, and then not for long at a time.
Soon after their arrival at the hill of Flomos, and when they had rested some of the stiffness from their joints, Everson and the scientist went down with Oleric to the laboratories of Nematzin to begin their work. Though the students of Ruthar were not unskilled in chemistry of a sort, they knew nothing of explosives. So Zenas prepared himself for a series of tests to discover the materials of which he was in need, or, if he could not find what he desired, some combination which would serve.
In that constructive analysis the naval lieutenant could be of little aid. Oleric then found a task for him which was more to his liking. It was the drilling of men.
From her center to her rock-bound coasts, Ruthar hummed with the preparation for war.
"If we are to fight, let us first know how many men we can raise, and how they will be disposed," said Everson. "What is the population of this country, and how will it match up, man for man, with Maeronica?"
All told, Ruthar's people numbered something like a million and a quarter, Oleric informed him; and in Maeronica the population was near to three and one-half millions, at least a half a million of which dwelt in the great city of Adlaz.