Robert Grandon 02 Prince of Peril Page 2

  Springing to my feet, I whirled and attacked.

  My opponent proved to be a hammer-and-tongs fighter, no match for superior swordsmanship. I could have killed him any one of a dozen times before he realized that I was playing with him. Then he bawled out lustily, and the wiry fellow with the gray beard came rushing out of the bushes. Not knowing the caliber of the second assailant, I stopped the squawking of the first with a quick neck-cut that laid him low.

  The wiry graybeard was much quicker and far more elusive than his huge companion, and I did not play with him. He soon left me the opening I sought, and I stretched him beside his fellow with a bone-shearing cut.

  Having ascertained beyond doubt that both of my would-be assassins were dead, I carefully cleaned my blade, sheathed it, and set out to explore my surroundings.

  I had been walking for perhaps ten minutes along the mossy bank, when a monster, more hideous than anything I had ever seen or even dreamed existed, emerged from the water and came toward me.

  I whipped out my blade as it waddled forward on its thick, bowed legs. Its long, scaly tail dragged in the moss, and its enormous jaws were distended in a grin that disclosed huge, ivory-white tusks. It was so fearsome a thing that, although I am no coward, I knew not whether to stand and fight or take to my heels.

  A gust of laughter at my right caused me to turn. I beheld a tall man, apparently of middle age, smiling broadly at me. His garments were of purple, and he wore a beard that had once been black, now slightly streaked with gray, cut off square below the chin. His weapons were similar to mine, though his belt was of silver.

  "The 'ikthos' will not harm you," he said in English. "It is one of the garden pets, and hostile only to strangers."

  The thing he called an ikthos sniffed at my garments, rubbed its ugly muzzle against my thigh, yawned, and crouched at my feet.

  "You are surprised at my knowledge of English," continued my new acquaintance. "After I tell you who you are and were, and also who I am, the thing will not seem so mysterious. You are he who was Borgen Takkor on Mars, and later Harry Thome on Earth. You have now become Zinlo, the Torrogi or Imperial Crown Prince of Olba. I am Vom Vangal, the Olban psychologist, and have been communicating telepathically with Dr. Morgan of Earth for several years."

  "I have heard the doctor speak of you often," I replied. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Vom Vangal."

  He acknowledged with a courtly bow. "I have but a few hours to spend with you. Grandon has already arrived on the other side of the planet and will shortly awaken to find himself a princely slave in the marble quarries of Uxpo. I must fly to his assistance. Come with me and see what preparations I have made for you."

  I followed Vorn Vangal through the garden. There was a profusion of ornamental trees, shrubs, fungi and jointed grasses, but no flowers or fruits. Patches of gloriously colored water plants of divers odd shapes flourished in the lagoons, and fungi of a thousand types and sizes grew in the moister places.

  Though it was without flowers, the garden did not lack color. All the hues of the rainbow were represented in its rankly growing, primitive vegetation. Toadstools as tall as trees bordered several of the lagoons, some of them lemon-yellow, others orange, scarlet, black or brown, and still others of pale, chalky whiteness.

  Beautiful statues and statuettes stood here and there, some placed conspicuously, but more of them showing unexpectedly in niches and vine-covered bowers as we moved along.

  The garden teemed with bird and animal life. The trees were alive with gay-plumed songbirds that filled the air with their melodious, flute-like notes. Waterfowl, both swimmers and waders, dotted the lagoons, and their cries, though not musical, were far from unpleasant. Amphibians of many species disported themselves in the water or dozed lazily on the banks. I was astonished at sight of a huge yellow frog which must easily have measured more than six feet from nose to toes, blinking contentedly and fearlessly down at me from his seat on an enormous scarlet toadstool.

  With our hideous ikthos trailing closely behind us, and from time to time affectionately nosing either Vom Vangal or me with its cold, moist snout, we presently came before a tall building. It was of black marble, and was my first glimpse of Olban architecture.

  Its shape astonished me. I do not believe there was a straight line in the entire structure. Everything was curved. The building stood on a circular foundation, and its walls, instead of mounting skyward in a straight line, bellied outward and then curved in again at the top. The lower structure was surmounted by a second segment, smaller, but of similar shape. This, in turn, supported others, still smaller, up to the top segment, some thirty feet in diameter and no less than six hundred feet from the ground.

  We mounted a flight of steps, walked between two uniformed guards who saluted stiffly, and entered a large circular door, where a slave took charge of the ikthos and led him away. After following a broad hallway for some distance we came to a huge pillar. It was in the center of the building, and was decorated on one side with a large oval plate of burnished silver on which was embossed what appeared to be a coat-of-arms. As we stepped before it the plate slid back, revealing a small room within.

  At Vangal's invitation I stepped into the small room inside the huge central pillar of the tower, and he followed. As soon as he stood beside me the silver plate slid back across the entrance, a concealed light flashed on somewhere above our heads, and the floor moved upward.

  We were in an elevator, of course, but what had started the thing and how was my companion going to stop it when we reached our destination? There were no levers or buttons of any sort. The thing seemed almost human in its movements. Perhaps there was a hidden operator. I voiced my question to Vorn Vangal.

  "It is moved by a mechanism which amplifies the power of telekinesis," he said.

  I had often heard Dr. Morgan use the word "telekinesis," and knew that it described that mysterious power of the mind which enables psychics to tip tables and lift imponderable objects without physical means. In short, it referred to the direct power of mind over matter.

  "I have heard of small objects being moved or lifted by telekinesis," I marveled, "but to lift an elevator! Why, this is amazing!"

  "We lift far heavier things than this little car," said Vangal, smiling slightly. "Huge cranes and derricks are operated in the same way. Airships of all sizes from small one-man flyers to huge battleships are moved by it—propelled through the air at speeds ranging from two hundred to one thousand miles an hour."

  "But how is that possible?"

  "It was made possible by that wonderful invention, the mechanism that amplifies the mind's power. The manufacture of this mechanism is the exclusive secret of the Olban government, and constitutes our defense against aggression from the warlike torro-gats—or empires—surrounding us. If those governments knew the secret, they would build aircraft and use them for conquest. The Olbans, however, are committed to a policy of 'live and let live.' We use our wonderful power only for commercial purposes and as a defense against aggression."

  We stopped before a metal plate which slid back noiselessly. I stepped out of the car and Vorn Vangal came after me, whereupon the plate slid back in place.

  We were in a small, circular hallway around whose walls were metal doors at intervals of about twenty feet. Vangal led the way to one of these doors, pressed a button, and when it slid open, bowed me into a luxuriously furnished suite lighted by enormous circular windows that reached nearly from floor to ceiling.

  "This is to be your retreat until my return from Uxpo," he said. "I have been preparing for your coming these many months."

  He walked to a beautifully carved table of red wood, and took a thick scroll from a pile neatly stacked on its polished top.

  "These are your lessons in patoa, the universal language of Venus. Our patoan name for Venus is Zarovia. Some twenty thousand patoan words are listed here with their pronunciations and English translations. If you will study them carefully until my return it will perhaps
be safe for you to leave the Black Tower. Then I can take you to the Red Tower, the Imperial Palace of Olba."

  "Am I to infer that it would be unsafe for me to leave the tower at present?"

  "The tower and grounds are well guarded," Vom Vangal replied; "but do not under any circumstances wander beyond the walls. In the course of your walks in the garden, always keep the ikthos with you. He will warn you of lurking assassins, and will fight in your defense."

  "He certainly wasn't on the job a short time ago," I said.

  "What do you mean?"

  I told him of the two assassins.

  "The beast must have been lured away by his keeperl" cried Vangal, when I had finished. "The traitor will be dealt with in due time. And those two ruffians—they would be in tho pay of Taliboz, of course."

  "Who is Taliboz?"

  "A man whom I suspect, but against whom I can prove nothing. Nothing! You see—in the course of preparation for your coining, I cast about for an excuse to bring your predecessor hero In ordor Mint His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hadjez, might not loam that his son Zinlo was changing places with an Earthrnan. A ready-made excuse presented itself when word came through the intelligence department of the government that there was a plot on foot to assassinate the male members of the imperial family.

  "I immediately suggested that Prince Zinlo be brought here until the plotters could be taken and executed. His majesty readily consented, thus making it possible for me to obtain a quiet retreat for you in which you could learn something of the language and customs of Olba, and at the same time be guarded from danger.

  "The plotters have not been apprehended, but I am firmly of the opinion that Taliboz is the ringleader. They have already made an attempt on the life of the Emperor and escaped with the loss of a single man. You can see how you would be exposed by going out unguarded."

  "I'm willing to stay here for a while," I replied, "for there is no question about my having to leam this language, patoa, sooner or later. But once I leam your language you won't catch me staying behind walls on account of a few assassins. I was bom on Mars, where men do not stay indoors to avoid their enemies; and though I am not familiar with your weapons, I believe I can give some account of myself with this cutting implement at my side if attacked."

  "No doubt you can," replied Vangal, "although the two ruffians you killed were probably clumsy fighters. But please bear in mind that you are the Torrogi of Olba—the crown prince—and that your life is not yours to throw away heedlessly."

  "Don't ever think I'm going to throw it away," I said. "The man who gets it will have to put up a scrap." "You might be shot from ambush with a tork." "A torkr

  "You are wearing one attached to your belt."

  Vangal explained the use of the oblong instrument at my side. It was about two feet long and shaped like a carpenter's level. A rivet passed completely through it, about eight inches from the top, fastening it to the belt in such a way that it could be tilted at any angle or pointed in any direction by moving the body.

  He pressed a small lever on the side and removed two clips, explaining that one was a gas clip containing a thousand rounds of condensed explosive gas, while the other was a bullet clip which held a thousand rounds of needlelike glass projectiles. These projectiles, he said, were filled with a poison that would paralyze man or beast almost instantly, though the paralysis was only temporary. Other projectiles, he explained, were filled with deadly poison, and still others with explosives. The effective range, he stated, was equal to about ten Earth-miles.

  He led me to a window which was open.

  "I have prepared a target for you," he said. "You will need to practice with the tork if you are to be able to defend yourself on this planet. Do you see that large white plate against the wall at the other end of the garden?"

  "Yes."

  "I had it erected for your use. It is coated with a substance that will combine with the poison in your tork bullets, emitting a green gas. If you see a green spot appear momentarily on the target you will know that you have registered a hit."

  I was eager to try this new weapon, and Vangal, smiling at my eagerness, loaded it for me and showed me how to hold it when pressing the button which fired the gas in the chamber by means of an electric spark. It fed new bullets automatically, he explained.

  I confidently fired at the target and waited for a green spot to appear. It remained white. Again I fired with the same result.

  "You will need considerable practice," said Vangal. "I am not accounted much of a marksman, but watch."

  He fired his tork and a green spot appeared in the center of the target. Then, with no apparent effort, he planted a ring of green spots around it.

  When the spots had disappeared I tried again, and managed to hit the target once out of five shots.

  "Now let me see what you can do with the scarbo," Vangal said. "The what?"

  "That cutting instrument at your side."

  "Oh ho, friend Vangal!" I thought. "You won't find me utterly helpless with this weapon."

  He drew his scarbo and I mine. Thinking to best me as easily as he had with the tork, he made as if he would lay my head open.

  I parried the blow with ease, then whirled his blade on mine with a movement so sudden that, strong as he was, it flew from his grasp and flashing over his head, clanked in the comer behind him.

  "Body of Thorth!" * he exclaimed. "That is a marvelous trick!"

  . I recovered his weapon and handed it to him laughingly.

  "On Mars I was raised on a diet of swords," I replied.

  "Then I suggest that you confine your efforts to target practice and a mastery of patoa," said Vanga. "I must leave you now to go to the assistance of Grandon. My flyer is on the roof. Would you care to see me off?"

  "Assuredly."

  I followed him into the elevator.

  CHAPTER II

  The elevatoh stopped at the floor of the top segment, and we mounted thence to the roof by a spiral stairway. Two guards, armed with torks, scarbos and broad-bladed spears, saluted when we appeared. The roof was made of the same

  "A great prophet and religious leader of Zarovian antiquity.

  material as the walls, and the slabs of black marble were fitted together so cunningly that the joints were all but concealed. It was circled by a four foot waD perforated on the floor level at intervals to carry off the heavy Zarovian rains.

  There were four Olban airships on the roof. I examined the nearest one with interest. It was shaped like a small metal duck-boat about ten feet in length and three in the beam. The cockpit was covered with a glass dome in the back of which was a small door. Within this dome I could see an assortment of levers, buttons and knobs, and the cushioned seat for the driver. The thing that amazed me the most was the fact that it was not equipped with planes, rudder or propeller.

  Vangal turned to me. "You seem astonished at our airships." "They certainly do not resemble any aircraft I have previously seen."

  "We have no need of planes, propellers or rudders for this type of flyer," he went on. "As I told you, it is raised, lowered, turned, or moved in any desired direction by amplified mind-power. The amplifying mechanism is under the round bump on the forward deck. The small lids that you see fore and aft conceal safety parachutes. That rectangular protuberance from the front of the cab is a mattork, a weapon operated on the same principle as a tork, but with a greater range and firing much heavier projectiles."

  "You told me that the Olban government alone possessed the secret for manufacturing these flying mechanisms," I said. "Suppose one should be forced to land in hostile territory. The craft would then, in all probability, fall into the hands of your enemies, and they could thus easily take the mechanism apart and duplicate it "

  "That danger has been foreseen. A vial of powerful acid has been placed in the mechanism of each Olban craft in such a way that it will be immediately broken if tampered with.

  The acid thus released in the secret mechanism will instantl
y destroy it."

  "Certainly a far-sighted provision," I remarked.

  "It has kept us at peace with our neighbors for many centuries," replied Vangal. "I dislike leaving you thus precipitately, but the time has come for departure."

  So saying, he opened the door in the back of the cab and entered. After a hurried examination of the control levers and the cannon-like mattork, he said: "Farewell. Study diligently, practice assiduously, and be ever on your guard against assassins."

  "If I catch any prowling about 111 practice on them instead Of the target. Farewell, and a safe and pleasant journey to you.

  The little craft rose slowly at first, then, gradually gathering momentum, it shot to a height of a half mile or more, sped away with amazing rapidity, and was soon lost to view.

  I walked to the edge of the wall and looked oyer. The roof was at least six hundred feet from the ground, though the drop from battlement to battlement was only about sixty feet. Far to the northward I descried a city of circular buildings, in the center of which towered an immense red structure similar in design to the one on which I stood, but at least twice as tall.

  This must be the Red Tower of which Vorn Vangal had spoken—the Imperial Palace of Olba. The city walls formed a circle, broken at each point of the compass by a tower which evidently covered a gate.