Quest of the Golden Ape Read online

  CHAPTER VI

  _On the Plains of Ofrid_

  Jlomec the Nadian guided his air car across the grassy plains of Ofridbut a scant few feet above the tops of the waving grasses.

  It was a fine day and the Nadian was taking full advantage of it. Oneof a race of proud and noble fighting men, Jlomec was an exception tothe rule in that he was a dreamer rather than a fighter, a thinkerrather than a doer, a poet rather than a military strategist.

  Thus, his mind dwelt upon the historic incident of the previous dayswhen, standing beside his brother, Bontarc, he had watched the graytower of Portox the Ofridian explode into a fine cloud of dust.

  And it was characteristic of the gentle Jlomec that his mind was moreoccupied with the romantic aspect of the incident than the violent. Hethought of the poem, the bit of doggerel carved in the foundationstone of the tower. For a century all Tarthans had puzzled over theverse put there by Portox so long ago:

  An ape, a boar, a stallion, A land beyond the stars, A virgin's feast, a raging beast, A prison without bars.

  Had it any meaning? Jlomec wondered. A thousand differentinterpretations had been put upon the verse over the years, but no oneknew for sure.

  That it had something to do with the slaughter of the Ofridians,Jlomec was sure. But what?

  As he ruminated thus, Jlomec's attention was caught by moving figuressome ten jeks to the south. He knew this to be the location of one ofthe great wells that dotted the Plains of Ofrid.

  In the times before the great massacre, these wells had been locatedin the hearts of the fine Ofridian cities of which the Abarians stoodin great envy. These wells gushed endlessly of cool crystal waterwhich kept the fabulous hanging gardens of Ofrid multicolored andbeautiful.

  But all that was in the past. The Ofridians had been slain to a manand their cities leveled until not a stone stood upon a stone. Nowlonely grasses grew where once glittered the results of Portox's greatscientific genius. Now there were only round steel doors in the groundto mark the locations of the great Ofridian wells.

  These thoughts occupied Jlomec's mind as he turned his car and coursedit in the direction of the well. The figures came clearly into view,causing Jlomec to frown in puzzlement.

  What manner of people were these? There were a half dozen of them--twomen, three females, and one babe-in-arms. Jlomec got the impressionthat--though they were erect and finely formed--that they were ofshort stature.

  But now he realized he had got this impression only by theircomparison to the seventh figure by the well. He knew at a glance thatthis seventh was an Abarian warrior, exceptionally tall and wearingthe look of grim cruelty so characteristic of his race.

  Jlomec paid the Abarian scant heed however, so engrossed was he instudying the strange half-dozen. Their skins were richly browned andthey wore almost no clothing.

  Who could they be? Jlomec wondered, and from whence had they come?Mightily intrigued, he moved forward until he came within earshot ofthe party. Then, for reason of the words he heard spoken, he haltedhis air car and frowned.

  * * * * *

  The Abarian, he recognized as the famed Retoc himself. A fierce stadpawed the ground nearby indicating how the tall, sneering commander ofthe Abarians had arrived at this spot. Retoc was known to roam thePlains of Ofrid at times, still savoring the destruction he and hissire, Harnod, had accomplished; pleasuring himself with memories ofbodies piled high, of bloody swords and helpless cries of the dying.

  Or was it for some other reason that Retoc roamed the plains? Was it anameless fear that drove him there? Did the accusing face of Portoxthe Ofridian genius still hang balefully in his memory? Had Portoxacquainted the Abarian devil with knowledge that he alone carried inhis guilty heart? And did that knowledge generate a fear that Retocthe Abarian could not rid himself of?

  At any rate, he now stood between the brown people and the Ofridianwell, enjoying a useless cruelty as was his custom.

  The leader of the group extended his hands in supplication and said,"We only ask water, sire. A small thing, but long have we waited toquench our thirst."

  Retoc said, "What manner of people are you?"

  "Harmless ones. See? We are unarmed and peaceful."

  "That does not answer my question. Tell me who you are and from whenceyou came. Then we will see whether my fancy dictates that you shallhave water from this well."

  Indignation and rage dimmed Jlomec's better judgment. He had glided inbeyond range of Retoc's vision and now he leaped from his car and drewhis wandlike whip-sword. "Is there no drop of common decency orcompassion left in you, Retoc, that you do this thing to helplesspeople?"

  The Abarian whirled with alarm not knowing what force might be arrayedagainst him. But when he saw the lone Jlomec, his composure returnedand his self-assurance again took charge. Had the newcomer beenBontarc, the dreamy Jlomec's skillful brother, Retoc the Abarian wouldhave conducted himself differently. But as it was, he sneered at thegentle Nadian and asked, "What business of this is yours, Jlomec?"

  "Injustice is everyone's business. These people, whoever they are, askonly to drink." Jlomec's eyes blazed. "And drink they shall, Abarian!"

  * * * * *

  Retoc's handsome eyes glowed. No doubt as to the outcome of thiscontest. He drew his own sword and whipped its supple length throughthe air. "Since you choose to champion this scum, let's get on withit."

  Had Jlomec's indignation not been of a quality to blind him toconsequences, he would have perhaps hesitated. But hot with thisinjustice, he whipped his own sword and leaped at Retoc.

  The latter, with a grim smile of confidence, parried the thrust withease and manipulated his own whip-sword with a skill which fewfighting men on the planet Tarth could have equalled.

  The weapons were strange ones by Earth standards and would haveprobably been considered impractical. They were a good six feet inlength with the supple resiliency of a fly casting rod. The trick ofusing them effectively lay in controlling the sway and whip of thelong thin blades by skillful use of the wrist. An expert Tarthanswordsman could parry a thrust with a lightning whip of his blade, arcthe singing steel in the opposite direction and perhaps bring hisopponent down with a thrust that would enter between his shoulderblades, the sword still arced to describe half a circle.

  * * * * *

  In essence, this favorite weapon of the Tarthans was a combination ofwhip and sword and combat was a matter of thrusting at angles farwider than could be achieved with a stiff blade. A good Tarthanswordsman would have been an excellent billiard player on Earth forhis knowledge of workable angles was of necessity supreme.

  Retoc the Abarian was a master at this swordplay. Enjoying himselfhugely because there was little risk, he toyed with the less skillfulNadian. He did not intend to kill Jlomec, fearing the wrath ofBontarc. He meant only to teach the stupid Nadian a lesson he wouldnot forget.

  But as his blade sang and stung, its needle point darting in like thefangs of a snake's head, and as Jlomec's clumsy blade soughtdesperately to parry, Retoc's blood lust rose to the fore. The joy ofdealing death to the helpless was upon him and with a swift thrust heallowed his blade to enter Jlomec's unprotected back just above thekidney, to streak upward through his body and pierce his heart.

  Frightened at what he had done he jerked the blade free. Its entwinedforce whirled Jlomec in a complete circle from which he fell limply,dead before he hit the ground.

  Retoc stood scowling at the fallen Nadian, his dripping blade risingand falling gently in the breeze as he held it extended. The Abarian'seyes darted to the group of brown-skinned folk, his anger centeringupon them as he nimbly switched the blame for this foul murder fromhis own shoulders to theirs. If they had not been at the well--

  He was ready to extend his slaughter in their direction, to wipe outthe lot of them, when he paused, his scowl deepening. There was fearand awe upon their faces but they were not regarding either
Retoc orhis fallen adversary.

  Their eyes were turned in another direction and Retoc sent his ownglance after theirs. His eyes held upon what he saw. A naked man. Butsuch a man as he had never before seen on all the planet Tarth.