Time Travel Omnibus, page 87
Fahn had turned into a side street at the foot of the hill.
“Where are we going?” Rogers demanded. “We’ve got to get into the palace unseen. How can we?”
“The tower,” Loto explained. “There’s a secret way in that the Bas do not know about.”
The tower, which rose like the skeleton of a lighthouse, stood close beside the main palace building, with a covered bridge connecting them at the level of the second floor of the palace.
Swiftly Fahn led the two men to the beach, that lay behind the bluff on which the palace and its tower stood. The moonlit strand was deserted. They came to a thick clump of palmettos in the heavy sand at the foot of the bluff—a green tangled clump higher than a man’s head. Into this Fahn unhesitatingly plunged, forcing the fronds aside, pushing his way in with the others after him. Inside the palmetto thicket, a small tunnel mouth leading downward was disclosed.
It seemed an endless journey underground—a black passageway not much higher than their heads and so narrow that they could always touch both Its walls with their outstretched arms. The air was heavy and fetid. They went down a slope, then on a level, then up. Once they arrived at an iron grating barring the way. But Fahn opened it in some fashion and it swung on a central, horizontal pivot so that they might crawl under it.
Ahead of them, up the incline, a tiny blue light showed. They reached it, found a small circular staircase and climbed upward into the tower.
The whole process had taken perhaps fifteen minutes. The mob was still In the garden; its shouts and mutterings sounded loud and ominous as the little party ascended the interior of the tower and hastily crossed the covered bridge.
Fahn was still leading. They pushed aside a curtained doorway and found themselves in a broad, second-floor corridor of the palace, dimly lighted. The figure of a white-bearded old man was crossing it hastily, disappearing into a room at its further end.
Another room was near at hand, with a latticed grating in Its doorway that now stood open. A soft blue-white light flooded out through it to the hall. The castle interior was evidently in confusion; cries sounded, mingled with the threatening shouts of the mob outside.
A girl shaking with fright stood in the nearer doorway, the light from behind glowing through her soft draperies. Other girls crowded forward from the room—a dozen frightened young girls. They saw Fahn, and they all ran to him for protection.
“The king’s wives,” said Loto to his father.
Fahn’s face softened; and as the girls huddled around him, he tried to comfort them.
“The guilt within them,” muttered Rogers. “They think the Bas are coming to kill them—only them.”
Fahn caught the words and his eyes flashed.
“There is no guilt here, my friend. They are women born to such as this.”
With the girls in a clinging group around him, the scientist proceeded down the hallway, followed by Loto and his father.
The room at the end of the hall—it seemed a sort of audience room—was in confusion. Most of the occupants of the palace were in it. The king was pacing up and down near its entrance—his councillors and advisors around him. All seemed frightened beyond coherent word or speech.
On a low divan sat the queen—a woman of forty—regal in a paneled robe, with her hair dressed high on her head. At her knees two children were huddled—the little prince and princess of the Arans. The queen was bending down over them as the strangers entered. When she saw Fahn with the girl-wives of her king, she frowned, stood up with an imperious gesture and ordered the girls from the room. But Fahn, with a stern command, bade them stay. The queen seemed amazed at the scientist’s defiance; the king looked undecided, but he did not interfere.
With Fahn’s arrival, the room quieted; its occupants gained confidence. The king seemed utterly relieved. He spoke a few placating words to the queen; but she had withdrawn haughtily to a corner, her eyes flashing at the frightened girls who were huddled across the room.
THE mob outside was shouting, surging about, but still lacking courage for a concerted attack. Fahn went to a window, with Rogers and Loto after him. The moonlight outside showed the crowd plainly. The Bas were waving their weapons.
“What will you do?” Rogers whispered.
“Look!” exclaimed Loto.
A score or more of men were gathering in a group near the center of the garden. A man mounted the rim of a fountain, inciting them with his shouts. His words had effect. The little knot of men waved their cane-knives and came surging toward the palace entrance. The crowd made way for them, following behind them with shouts of triumph. Missiles were thrown upward at the palace windows; one or two at first, then a hailstorm.
Fahn quietly stepped upon a balcony that ran along the entire front of the building. Loto and his father followed. The moonlight fell full upon them, and the crowd recognized the scientist leader.
A great shout went up—a cry of defiance mingled with fear. The men rushing at the building wavered and stopped; the crowd near at hand began pressing backward.
Slowly Fahn advanced to the waist-high parapet; with his hands upon it he stood like an orator facing a friendly throng and calmly waiting for silence. A stone whistled past his head, struck the building and clattered to the stone floor of the balcony, but he did not heed it.
His calmness, the confident power of his demeanor, quieted the mob. In a little open space on the terrace, a leader of the Bas sprang into prominence—a giant man who shouted a brief sentence.
“Mogruud,” whispered Loto. “He tells them to listen to what Fahn has to say.”
Silence came at last, and then Fahn spoke—quietly, earnestly. He seemed to be winning them, when, from the palace behind, the king suddenly appeared on the balcony. At sight of him an angry shout rolled up from the crowd. A long, thin knife, with a tail of feathers on it, flew up from below and stuck quivering in the window casement beside the king’s head. The king retreated back into the room.
Fahn continued speaking, but now the mob would not listen to him. A woman’s shrill laugh of derision floated upward.
At once Fahn’s tone changed. He rasped out a stern command, but a scattering hail of stones was his answer. Then without warning, his hand went to his robe. He flung a little ball into the air. It burst fifty feet from his hand with a shrill whistling scream, and a shower of sparks scattered downward over the garden. They were harmless but they sent a mild electric shock through every individual of the mob. As Fahn had intended, the Bas were frightened into silence.
“He does not want to kill even one of them,” Loto whispered. “Never before have the Bas been in open demonstration. It might spread to other cities—anything might happen.”
Fahn was now whispering into a tiny mouthpiece—talking to his guards at the cavern a mile or so away. From the cavern-mountain across the city a blue-white shaft of light sprang into the sky. The Bas saw it and stared. And then suddenly the air seemed bursting with voices. Four words, repeated by the audible radio that the cavern was sending out.
“Death to disloyal Bas! Death to disloyal Bas!”
A million aerial voices were proclaiming it everywhere. And then the words changed.
“We must win against Toroh! The Bas must help us win against Torch!”
The threat and its so swiftly following appeal were irresistible. Mogruud shouted an enthusiastic answer to Fahn; and the crowd applauded.
The voices in the air were presently stilled; the light over the cavern disappeared. And, still with his hands quietly on the parapet, Fahn again addressed the people below him. He spoke often directly at Mogruud; and once the man replied with a question and a statement that raised a shout of approval from those around him.
“Mogruud says the laws should be changed,” Loto whispered swiftly to his father. “The Bas women should have their children without exile.”
Fahn seemed to make a sadden decision. He spoke again into his mouthpiece. Again the light sprang over the cavern. From the air came the words:
“Bas women shall not be exiled! Bas children shall be free!”
STILL side by side, Georgie and Dee rode back toward Anglese City. It was further than Georgie had thought; then he realized that the girl had turned into a different road. He shouted a question at her.
“A shorter way to the cavern,” she explained.
The wind whistling past them made conversation difficult. Georgie understood that they were skirting the city to where the cavern stood on its other side. They were still in the open country—a road of white sand, palm lined, with a forest jungle all around, and only an occasional house.
Georgie’s mind was in a turmoil. Toroh taking the other plane into time! Memory came to him of all those greater civilizations he and Rogers had seen through the centuries they had passed Toroh was going back to those civilizations to secure weapons! The thought turned Georgie cold all over. With the weapons from former, greater ages, Toroh and his army of Noths would be invincible.
Words In the wind sweeping by startled Georgie into sudden alertness.
“Bas women shall not be exiled! Bas children shall be free!”
The woman in front of the shack clutched her children, listening, rejoicing.
Dee had started the dogs forward again. Swiftly she explained to Georgie what she thought it might mean—a radio proclamation from Fahn. In a few moments the light over the cavern had vanished; the voices in the air died away.
Georgie’s mind reverted to their own situation; the incident had given him an idea.
“Dee, where are Azeela and Toroh now?”
She thought an instant; momentarily the mental bond with her sister had been broken.
“She thinks, very near Orleen. They have heard the voices. Toroh is very angry. He had hoped much that the Bas would rebel. It would have helped him.”
“Near Orleen!” Georgie echoed. “Can’t we get to the Anglese Cavern first?”
“I think so.” She had started Rotan into a run, but Georgie called out to stop. Even at the risk of losing more precious time, he wanted to question her.
“Dee, listen. Are the Caverns of Orleen and Anglese City connected by radio?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then, listen. Well get to Anglese City first—tell them to Inform the guards at Orleen. When Toroh and Azeela arrive they can seize them—if we warn them ahead.”
She nodded with instant comprehension.
“All radio isn’t broadcast audibly, is it?” he added.
“No,” she said. The dogs were running faster. She called back over her shoulder, “We’ll do that. I’ll tell Azeela.”
They swept forward, the dogs settling low to the ground as they ran. A great weight seemed to have lifted from Georgie. It would be simple enough, after all—merely notify the Cavern of Orleen by radio, and Toroh would be seized when he presented himself with Azeela.
Georgie contemplated the outcome. With Toroh in their hands, the Noth attack would collapse. There would be no war.
It was a race then—the only thing that could go wrong would be if Toroh got to the other cavern first. Rotan and Dee were ahead; the girl’s slight figure clinging to the dog showed in the moonlight. Georgie whispered to Atal, thumped the dog’s flank with his hand.
As they caught up with Dee, he shouted, “Where’s Azeela now? Will we make it?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I think so.”
The mountain that housed the cavern loomed ahead through the palms; houses lay to the right—the outskirts of Anglese City. Half a mile more and they would be there.
Atal’s upflung head brought Georgie out of another reverie. The dog, still running at full speed, was sniffing the air. Georgie heard Rotan growl, and Dee’s sharp command for silence.
Another command from the girl, and both dogs stopped; Atal slid on his haunches, checking himself so abruptly that Georgie was flung to the sand.
He was unhurt; he picked himself up to find Dee beside him.
“Some one is coming,” she said sharply. “Some one the dogs know is not a friend.”
She spoke to the dogs, and pulled Georgie to the side of the road where a cluster of banana trees threw an inky shadow. Together they stood there in silence. Atal and Rotan had disappeared. The road was a white ribbon in the moonlight. Georgie listened, but could hear nothing. He tried to question Dee, but she silenced him.
Presently there came the thud of running feet; from the direction of Anglese City two running dogs with riders swept into view. They were men riders—men black cloaked and with masks. Arans, from the festival, Georgie thought.
They would have passed without seeing the lurking figures under the banana trees had not Atal and Rotan, in spite of Dee’s command, suddenly charged them from the shadows across the road.
The two men, shouting in anger and alarm, tumbled from their mounts. The four dogs mingled in a snarling mass.
Still Georgie and Dee were unseen in the shadows. One of the men in the road had lost his cloak and mask; the moonlight showed his face.
“One of Toroh’s brothers,” Dee breathed into Georgie’s ear. In the dimness he could see she was raising the small crescent-shaped weapon. Some noise that she or Georgie made must have alarmed the men. They were no more than ten feet away; they looked sharply across the road, and then, evidently seeing nothing, they turned back to where the dogs were still fighting—more silently now, with a deadly fury.
Sparks leaped suddenly from Dee’s outstretched hand. The men turned. One of them cried out in terror, but they both stood stiff and motionless.
“We’ve got ’em!” Georgie shouted. “Good work, Dee!”
He would have leaped forward, but her free hand gripped him.
“Georgie! Quick! The globe!”
ONE of the men, supposedly stricken beyond the power to move, was by some superhuman effort of will slowly raising his hand; in his fingers the moonlight showed a tiny black globe. It came up, very slowly, as his almost paralyzed muscles struggled with its weight.
But Georgie had recovered his wits. He snatched his own globe from his pocket, pointed it, pulled the trigger.
The night was split by a flash—a tiny, sizzling snap of thunder; the globe recoiled in Georgie’s hand. Across the road the bodies of the two men lay motionless on the sand. A sulphurous smell was in the air.
Dee was leaning against a banana trunk, panting.
Among the trees across the road the dogs were still fighting. One of the Noth dogs lay motionless, torn and bleeding. Atal and Rotan together were attacking the other—the three rolling and tumbling as they bit and tore at each other, their huge bodies trampling down the banana trees as they fought.
“Dee, could I use the thunderbolt on them?”
She shook her head. “Wait.”
It lasted only a moment more; the second Noth dog was down, with Atal’s fangs buried in Its throat.
The two dogs came leaping back to their mistress, their bodies torn, and matted with dirt and blood.
They mounted the dogs and started forward, more slowly this time, for the animals carried them with difficulty.
Again Georgie remembered. Toroh would be at the Orleen Cavern by this time. They had lost! This delay had been the one unexpected thing that could defeat them.
“Dee—”
But the girl had anticipated him.
“They are in the plane.” She half whispered the words. “Azeela has been trying to tell me for a long time. Toroh had a spy at the cavern entrance—a man whom we trust as a Scientist. He let them in—Azeela had no chance to make an outcry. They are in the plane now. Azeela tells Toroh she cannot operate It. Wait! Now he tries the Proton switch himself.”
A silence.
“Dee! What is it?” Georgie pleaded.
She shook her head. “Nothing comes. Nothing!”
The connection was broken! Azeela was carried back into time. Had something temporarily stopped her message? Would her thought-bond with her sister hold across the centuries that now separated them?
Georgie could only ask himself these questions with sinking heart. If the bond would not hold, then Azeela was lost to them forever. Lost to Loto, who loved her. And Toroh would get his weapons and win the war—Inevitably.
“Nothing yet. Dee?”
“No.”
They rode slowly onward. At last Dee gave a cry of joy.
“It comes again! She is all right, Georgie! You hear? All-right now.”
“Oh!” Georgie thumped Atal to urge the dog forward. “Dee, we must hurry. They’re going back into time?”
“Yes. Azeela looks at the dials. Twenty-five years back now. She tells us to hurry. She will watch the dials and let me know where they are. Toroh does not suspect anything. He is gloating. He thinks he has won everything.”
At last they were ascending the slope to the mouth of the cavern. The yawning hole showed black In the face of the cliff. On the small platform above the mouth, a single light disclosed the figures of three guards sitting there.
In the moonlight the guards saw them coming. A bolt of lightning flashed downward across the black hole; a peal of thunder rolled out.
They stopped, and Dee called to the guards. One of them descended from the platform—down a narrow flight of steps cut in the cliff face. He came forward in the moonlight—a black-robed figure.
Dee spoke with him, and recognizing a daughter of Fahn, he saluted respectfully. There followed a brief colloquy, then the guard stood aside.
A moment later they were in the cavern. The huge tunnel was dark and dank; but blue-white lights glimmered ahead in the darkness. The place was silent, seemingly deserted.
Down the length of the main tunnel they hurried. The plane stood there in the open space, in the glare of blue-white light.
They stood before it.
“Dee, shall we send for your father?” She hesitated.
“Where is he?” Georgie persisted. “Did you ask the guard?”
“Yes. He and Loto and Loto’s father are at the palace. There has been rebellion and murder—the murder of Helene, Mme. Voluptua.”
