Warrior of the Dawn Part 43

Then it was that he saw a shadow come into Nada's eyes--a shadow which wiped away his smile and closed a cold hand about his heart.

"Nada!" he exclaimed. "What is wrong? Has something happened to her?"

"She is ... gone," his mother said dully.

"Gone?"

"Yes. Pryak gave her to a man from a land far to the south of Sephar. He has taken her there with him."

Tharn's face was white beneath its layer of tan. "How long since?" he demanded hoa.r.s.ely.

"This is the third day."

Without another word the young man wheeled and started for the door.

Before he could reach it, however, strong fingers closed on his arm.

His father had stopped him. "Wait, Tharn. Where are you going?"

"After Dylara," said his son grimly.

"Of course; but do not leave so--so abruptly. Let us talk this over before you start. Some of our men will go with you, once we have eaten and slept."

"I am neither tired nor hungry," retorted his son. "I am going alone; others would only delay me."

Katon chose this moment to intervene. "Wait a few hours, Tharn. There is much left to be done here, and we need your help. A new king must be chosen and order restored to the palace and city. Once that is done there will be a feast for all of us; then, after a good sleep, you can set out after Dylara. You can overtake those who have her within two or three suns."

Nada ended the discussion. "Stay until morning, my son," she pleaded. "I have but found you; I cannot bear to let you go so soon."

The smile came back to Tharn's face. "As you will," he conceded. "But when Dyta comes again, I must leave you."

So it was decided, and the four went down to the lower floor to join the others.

That night, in the great dininghall of Sephar's palace, a happy throng sat about a long, wide table laden to its edges with an abundance of foods. At the head sat Katon; at his right hand was Tharn, the elder; and, on his left, was Tharn, the younger, his mother beside him.

Earlier that afternoon the former prisoners and those n.o.bles who had not fallen in defense of Pryak's government, had a.s.sembled in the great central hallway to elect a new king. Tharn, to his honest surprise, had been their instant and unanimous choice. But he had declined the honor, saying:

"There is one among you who has every right to rule over you. He, himself, is the son of a king--one who understands all those things expected of a ruler. That man is Katon of Huxla!"

The roar of approval which followed his words reached far beyond Sephar's walls. Katon would have protested but he had no chance of making himself heard, and he accepted--hiding his pleasure as best he could. He did not dream what a pang that speech had cost his Cro-Magnard friend, for with those words Tharn had relinquished his hope of taking the Sepharian back with him to the caves of his father.

Later in the day an armed force had entered the temple of Sephar's G.o.d; and while the feet of those faint-hearted members in the group had dragged somewhat, none had turned back.

However, no resistance had materialized; instead, a horde of priests, arms held high, hands empty, had welled up from the subterranean maze below the temple and begged the new ruler to accept them as his own loyal followers.

Among them was the Council of Priests, intact to a man--except for one.

But that one was he whom Katon--and Vulcar!--had desired most to see: Pryak, high priest and Sephar's former king.

It was then that the new king displayed his ability to make sensible decisions. Before leaving the temple he had appointed Cardon as high priest to the G.o.d-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken. Nor could he have made a wiser choice; for Cardon was possessor of a rugged honesty as well as a lack of ambition beyond his position. The long-standing feud between Church and State was ended.

Once these matters had been disposed of, Katon had sent his soldiery to a.s.semble the residents of Sephar at the palace grounds. When a huge throng had filled not only the gra.s.sy expanse but the street as well, Katon, as ruler of Sephar, had proclaimed the new government and asked that they acknowledge, as their king, a warrior in place of a priest.

The thunderous, welcoming roar which greeted his words was all that was needed to make of Sephar a unified community. Katon had immediately proclaimed a two day holiday, to be given over to feasting and drinking; and, because he was a shrewd judge of human nature, he had announced that every citizen must sacrifice some valued article to the G.o.d, whose help had made the revolt a success.

And so it was that on this night all Sephar, from palace to city walls, was in a merry-making mood. Within the palace dininghall, there was only a single tiny cloud to mar the clear sky of happiness; a cloud fast losing the dark hue it at first had a.s.sumed.

This bit of gloom was caused by the absence of Dylara. But when young Tharn had had an opportunity to reflect, there had come the certainty that Dylara would be back with him before many suns. Tharn knew he could cover in one day three times the distance that the slow-moving men from Ammad could travel in that same period of time. And while they must camp while Dyta slept, Tharn could go on across nocturnal jungles and plains without being forced to slack his speed.

Vulcar, earthen goblet in hand, was bellowing out an anecdote of the days when he had been a young warrior, when the hangings behind Tharn's bench swayed as though touched by a random current of air.

Because all eyes were fixed on the speaker, and because the faint candle light failed to reach much beyond the table, none saw the half crouched figure that stealthily pushed aside the curtain and tip-toed into the room. The intruder's lips were curled in a crazed grimace of hate; in one hand was clutched a long blade of polished stone.

Nada, pausing in her eating from time to time to gaze fondly at her broad-shouldered son, caught a glimpse of something moving among the shadows directly behind the young man. What was it that lurked there?

Suddenly Nada screamed--a high-pitched, tearing sound that cut through the babble of voices about the table.

With the first notes of the scream, a figure behind Tharn bounded forward and drove a flint knife deep into the naked back of the surprised Cro-Magnard.

Nada's terrified cry was all that saved Tharn from instant death. For he was rising from his stool and turning as the scream left her lips. As a result, the knife point entered his back at an angle, ripping through the muscles there to enter the lower tip of one lung.

Tharn, despite his agony, reached for the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin. But another was there before him--Vulcar, the hawk-faced.

The one-time captain of Urim's guards had vaulted the table in a flying leap and with a powerful sweep of his arm, knocked away the knife. Then he caught the man about the neck and forced him into a kneeling position.

"So, Pryak," cried the hawk-faced one, "you would add another killing to your list! Long have I waited for this--now comes your reward for the death of Urim!"

Pryak opened his lips to plead for mercy, but before the words could come he was whirled up from the floor as though he were a figure of straw. Then, as the others watched in awe, Vulcar brought the screaming man down on the edge of the ma.s.sive table.

There was a crunching sound from splintering bones, one last nerve-tearing cry of agony and fear--and Pryak, the ambitious, was gone to his reward.

As the guests stood staring down at the broken form, a thin trickle of blood appeared at one corner of Tharn's mouth and coursed to his chin.

Dazedly he lifted a hand to wipe away the stain, then his knees gave way, and before the paralyzed company could prevent, Tharn, the son of Tharn, had pitched to the floor.

When complete consciousness first returned, he was aware of a great mound of soft skins beneath him; and he opened tired eyes to a sun-flooded room. For a little while he was content to remain so, staring at the stone ceiling.

Later, he slowly turned his head and looked into the eyes of Nada. For a few minutes mother and son did not speak; then she reached out to touch his hand.

"You have come back to us, Tharn," she said softly.

Tharn pondered over her remark. When he spoke he was startled by the feebleness of his voice.

"How long have I lain here?"