Warrior of the Dawn Part 32

She looked up with a relieved smile as he came into view. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten me," she said warmly. "Whatever possessed you to run away like that?"

Tharn had never liked giving long explanations. "It was nothing," he said lightly. "Let us go on."

They descended and walked slowly, side by side, along the trail. Alurna wondered why the cave-man no longer raced ahead as he had done before.

But Tharn's purpose was clear in his mind: it would be best, he decided, to let Dylara and the Sepharians enter the city ahead of him.

Nearly two hours later they rounded a bend of the trail and came to a halt. Alurna gave a little cry of happiness. Directly ahead, beyond a brief expanse of open ground stood Sephar's walls. Turning to the silent figure at her side, she caught his arm and, like an eager child, sought to hurry him on.

Nor did Tharn need persuasion. He had stopped only because his ever-present sense of caution bade him go slowly. But the impelling hand at his arm removed the last lingering trace of reluctance.

They were half-way across the clearing before one of several warriors about a gateway spied them and raised a shout that brought a dozen guards from inside the walls. At sight of the cave-man and his companion the entire group came running toward them.

Once more Tharn stopped, hand dropping to the knife at his belt. But the impatient voice of the princess beat down his suspicion.

"No, Tharn, no! Those are my father's men. They come to welcome us."

His fingers relaxed their hold on the knife, but his hand remained close to its hilt. And then they were surrounded by the men of Sephar.

This detail was in charge of Lodorth, a tall, rather fleshy warrior of middle-age, very straight of back and given to the blunt speech of a soldier. Alurna remembered him as once having been stationed at the palace.

"Ah, princess," Lodorth said soberly. "We believed you to be dead or hopelessly lost. I am glad to be first in welcoming you."

Alurna was all smiles. "My father is worried, I know. I must go to him at once, Lodorth."

An expression which the girl could not define pa.s.sed across the officer's face but he made no reply. Instead he turned to his men.

"Disarm this man and bind his hands!" he ordered, jerking a thumb toward Tharn.

Upon hearing this, the cave-man reached quickly for his knife, but froze as he felt several cold flint spearheads against the skin of his back.

"Disarm him!" barked the leader curtly.

One of the men stepped forward, and with a wary eye c.o.c.ked toward the motionless figure, plucked the stone blade from Tharn's loin-cloth.

Then Alurna found her tongue.

"You are a fool, Lodorth!" she cried, turning on the captain. "This man saved my life. Give him his knife and show him your respect, or you shall answer to Urim--and to me!"

Lodorth eyed her stolidly. "Pryak is king, now," he said, his face an impa.s.sive mask. "Urim is dead!"

CHAPTER XVII

Reunion

Pryak, seated in one of the great rooms of the palace, was deep in conversation with Orbar, his lieutenant. The room, itself, was swarming with white-tunicked priests, their babbling voices adding to the atmosphere of confusion and disorder.

A knock sounded at the door and it was opened to admit three people. As they entered, a sudden hush fell over the milling throng of priests.

Pryak, aroused by the abrupt cessation of sound, looked up questioningly. At sight of the newcomers his eyes opened wide in surprise; then his lips curled in a smile more disturbing than the blackest frown.

"By the G.o.d!" he exclaimed, mock pleasure in his tone, "I welcome the daughter of Urim! I was told you were dead, princess--taken from us by the cruel jungle. And now you have come back! I shall enjoy hearing of your adventures."

The thinly veiled contempt in words and tone brought a wave of red across Alurna's pale, grief-stained face. Then she spoke--and her words, barely audible from the choking emotion behind them, carried such hatred and loathing as to hold Pryak petrified on his chair.

"Murderer!" she whispered. "Little man of filth! It was you who caused the death of my father! Who did it for you? How long do you think you can hold Urim's place before some _real_ man takes your place--and twists your wrinkled neck?"

Pryak, his face livid with rage, leaped from his stool and lifted his hand to strike her into silence.

The blow never found its mark. Tharn, standing near Alurna, and forgotten by the others, had moved almost before Pryak was off the stool.

And so it was that Pryak, Voice of the Great G.o.d, found his bony wrist seized by fingers of steel and his swinging arm halted as abruptly as though it had encountered one of the room's stone walls.

Before the startled priest could cry out or his astounded followers interfere, he was s.n.a.t.c.hed bodily from his feet and flung almost the entire length of the chamber.

Four priests were bowled over by the catapulting body; those human cus.h.i.+ons were all that saved Pryak from injury.

Tharn went down, then, beneath a horde of fanatical priests. And before they had him bound and helpless, more than one felt the weight of his fists and the strength of his arms. At last they dragged him to his feet and stepped aside as Pryak, rumpled and bruised, came forward.

"For what you have done," he growled hoa.r.s.ely, "you shall pay in blood and suffering. When the lions hunt you down in the arena during the Games, wild man, remember that you dared to lay hands on Sephar's king."

Tharn laughed in his face. "Better the fangs of Sadu," he gibed, "than the stench of a priest!"

Stung by the taunt, Pryak went white. Unexpectedly, he lashed out with a bony fist, catching the young cave-man flush on the mouth. Tharn's expression did not change under the blow, but something crept into his eyes that made Pryak shrink back in alarm. Then, remembering the captive was bound and helpless, he drew back his arm to strike again.

This time, however, a tall figure stood between him and Tharn--Lodorth, under-officer in Sephar's forces.

"You wish the prisoner taken to the pits, O Voice of the G.o.d?" The contempt in Lodorth's tone was poorly concealed.

For a moment Pryak considered ordering the man aside. He hesitated, then nodded a.s.sent and turned away.

"And the princess?" Lodorth called after him.

"Leave her here."

"This way," said the soldier to young Tharn, and together they moved toward the exit.

It was clear to Tharn that this warrior was no admirer of the treacherous high priest--a conclusion strengthened by the incident in which Lodorth had saved him from a second blow. He wondered if others in Sephar felt so toward their new ruler.

Presently they reached the entrance to the subterranean cell. Releasing the monstrous bar, Lodorth cut Tharn's bonds and motioned for him to enter.

Once within, Tharn's first thought was that he had been brought to another cell. Instead of the score or so of prisoners he had expected, there were fully a hundred men gathered here. Then he began to pick out familiar faces; and an instant later his doubts were dispelled as Katon came forward to welcome him, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.