Chapter VIII: Surrounded

The instant Grandon learned they were being attacked by Reabonians, he was on his feet directing the fighting. First at one point, then another, his blade drank blood as he momentarily filled a gap where a man had been cut down. The little circle of Traveks was narrowing swiftly. They fought bravely, but the odds were in favor of the Reabonians.

The battle cry of the attackers was "For Vernia, for Vernia!"

"For Grandon of Terra!" answered the Traveks, defiantly.

Suddenly a cry came from one of the leaders of the Reabonians. "Truce!"

Instantly the fighting ceased. Grandon's men lowered their weapons as the soldiers of Vernia withdrew a little way.

"Where is your captain?" shouted the Reabonian commander.

"Here," replied Grandon.

"I offer you the alternative of surrender or complete annihilation, Grandon of Terra," said the officer. "Two-thirds of your command lie bleeding on the ground. You can save the others from a like fate by laying down your arms."

"What say you, men?" asked Grandon, looking around.

"We are Fighting Traveks!" was the proud reply from a score of throats.

A surge of pride swept over him at these gallant words, and with it came a wave of pity as he reflected that they must soon be butchered like sheep in a slaughter pen. If there were only some way--he racked his brain for a feasible plan. Like a flash there came to his mind a vision of old football days. He lowered his voice and issued a few swift orders. The men formed a circle once more, and Grandon shouted defiance to the Reabonian commander.

The fighting had all taken place by the flickering light of the camp fires. Each Travek, as he took up his position, pushed a quantity of loose moss before him with his feet. The soldiers of the princess were closing in on them when Grandon issued a sharp command. Simultaneously every fire was smothered under a heap of moss.

Another command, and the men had formed a flying wedge with Grandon at the apex. Straight through the circle of attackers they smashed in compact formation, cutting right and left. As they ran through the forest lanes they could hear the Reabonians fighting each other in the darkness. When they had attained some little distance from the scene of battle the smoldering fires flared up once more, and they heard a shout of baffled rage go up from the Torrogina's men.

Grandon had lain down to sleep with a command of sixty-five men. They numbered now but nineteen, and the lieutenant was missing, Grandon turned to the man nearest him.

"Are there other bands of Fighting Traveks near by?" he asked.

"A number of them rove these woods, but as none tarry long in one place we might hope to find them only by accident. Bordeen, the great commander of all the bands, is encamped with three hundred men in a valley only twelve miles from here."

"Can you find the place to-night?"

"Unless we run into Reabonians."

"Then lead the way, and let us he off at once."

* * * * *

The four-hour march held much of fascination for the Earth-man, wandering through the primeval forest of another world with fierce, untamed fighting men whom he had won the right to command by the dexterity of his blade.

The guide was a talkative fellow, and explained much to Grandon about the customs and traditions of the Fighting Traveks.

"When Uxpo was free," he said, "the Fighting Traveks constituted the largest and most powerful unit of her armies. Bordeen, our present commander, was at that time in command of the king's bodyguard. Margo, emperor of Reabon, and his blood-thirsty horde of plunderers, outnumbered our armies a hundred to one. Our king died fighting side by side with his brave soldiers, and Margo, on learning of this, ordered his head cut off, placed on a pole and carried through the town, believing that by so doing he would overawe the people.

"The effect was quite the contrary. Those who had been on the point of surrender before, fought with redoubled fury, and he found it impossible to restore order until every fighting male had either been killed, captured or driven into the mountains. On Margo's death, Bordeen led a revolt which placed the elder son, Lugi, on the throne. He thought that, with a woman ruler in Reabon, our independence might easily be maintained, but he was mistaken in the woman. Though but a slip of a girl, she proved to be an even greater general than her illustrious sire.

"Once more our army was annihilated and our ruler beheaded. His brother, Prince Thaddor, is now in the marble quarries, along with his father's former soldiers. He was ever a gentle youth, a student and a dreamer, unskilled with tork or scarbo or the command of fighting men, and never caring to learn the art of warfare.

"Bordeen is growing old, and though a great warrior still, deems himself unfit to administer the affairs of a kingdom. His fondest hope is that Providence may raise up among us a virile young leader of royal blood who can reorganize our scattered armies and wrest our beautiful Uxpo once more from the cruel conquerors."

The guide lapsed into pensive silence as he finished his narrative, and Grandon, stumbling along behind him, was filled with an intense hatred for the Reabonians, and a desire to restore to his comrades and their countrymen, the kingdom which was rightfully theirs. Then, in a flash, there came to him the significance of the parting words of Vorn Vangal, which had puzzled him greatly at the time: "Farewell, and may you soon be firmly seated on the throne of Uxpo."

So this was what had been planned for him by Vorn Vangal of Olba and Dr. Morgan on that distant twin-planet to Venus. The magnitude of the undertaking appalled him for the moment. It was more than a man-sized job--a herculean task that even a superman might not hope to accomplish. But he would try. He would go in to win, and nothing short of death itself should defeat him.

He was aroused from his reverie by an exclamation from the guide, and looking up, saw many lights twinkling ahead.

"We near Bordeen's camp," said his guide excitedly. "Those are the watch fires of our comrades."

They were halted by a sentry at some distance from the camp, but at a secret sign from the guide, were allowed to proceed without interruption.

* * * * *

The camp consisted of a half dozen circular huts similar to the one Grandon's men had constructed, surrounding a much larger hut which he took to be the headquarters of the commander. Huba led him straight to this structure and, before he realized it, he found himself in the presence of Bordeen.

There was no light within the inclosure except the flickering rays cast by the campfires surrounding the camp, and Grandon could only imperfectly discern the features of Bordeen and those who stood about him.

The guide saluted with drawn scarbo held pointing at an angle of forty-five degrees, and the Earth-man did like-wise.

"Mightiest of commanders," the Travek said, "if it is your pleasure, our new captain, Grandon of Terra, will make his report."

"A new captain!" exclaimed Bordeen. "This is indeed strange. Thelpo was a mighty fighter. Report, Grandon of Terra."

Grandon modestly described the duel that followed his chance meeting with the Fighting Traveks, how they had been surrounded by a large body of Reabon soldiers and all but annihilated. He expected a reprimand for losing two-thirds of his command, but to his surprise, Bordeen commended his generalship for so ably effecting an escape when escape seemed hopeless.

His report concluded, he was conducted to the hut where his men were quartered, and was soon asleep on his mossy couch. The guide, however, remained by order of the commander, who asked:

"What know you of this Grandon of Terra?"

"Nothing he has not told you for himself, other than that he is from a far distant country which he calls Terra, and is a most extraordinary fighter with the scarbo as well as an exceedingly able commander. No doubt you noticed that he wore the color of royalty."

"Hardly. In this dim light I cannot tell scarlet from any other color. I fear my eyes are failing me. However, it seemed to me as he stood there, that there was something strangely familiar about his figure. He reminded me of some one I have known in the past, and have been vainly trying to recall."

A man at Bordeen's right spoke up.

"Was it not of Prince Thaddor that he reminded you?" he asked. "It seemed to me that he bore considerable resemblance to our prince."

"Now that you mention it, he did remind me of Prince Thaddor. But of course he could not possibly be our gentle prince. And yet--stranger things have happened. Cruelty sometimes changes the nature of the mildest of men, and the slave-drivers of the empire are cruelty personified. Bring me a flash light. Let us have a good look at him as he sleeps."

Grandon had thrown his accouterments in a heap and kicked off his sandals before he retired.

He slept so soundly from fatigue that he did not even stir as the bright rays of the flash light was turned on his features.

"It is Prince Thaddor or his double!" exclaimed Bordeen. "His right foot! Quickly! Flash the light on his right foot."

Gurda did as directed, then uttered a low cry of surprise and delight, for there, tattooed on the sole, was the emblem of the royal house of Uxpo.

Bordeen bent low and examined the tattoo marks for a moment in silence. Then he arose and said:

"It is indeed Prince Thaddor, for men are not born with such marks on their right feet, and this mark has undoubtedly been there since infancy. The miracle of miracles has happened. Our gentle prince has suddenly become a mighty fighter. Why did he not tell me who he was? See that he is suitably barbered and attired when he awakens, and that every provision is made for his comfort. Runners must be dispatched at once to bring in all of those scattered bands we can locate, for to-morrow we will hold a great feast in honor of this momentous event."

* * * * *

While he was speaking, a sinister figure crouched on the roof above, drinking in every word. No sooner had they left, than the creature gave a cunning leer that boded no good for the Earth-man or his companions, and clambering up the rough trunk that formed the central pole of the hut, made off across the tangled mass of vines and creepers which draped the tree-tops.

It was a monkey-man, one of that odd tribe of creatures which inhabit the equatorial regions of Zarovia. Their bodies are covered with short, reddish-brown hair, with the exception of the faces, palms of the hands and soles of the feet. They have short, stubby tails averaging about four inches in length, which project upward, curling slightly at the tips. They are dwarfs in stature, the largest males averaging perhaps four feet in height while the females are much shorter.

Despite their simian appearance they are surprisingly intelligent, almost on a par with the Bushmen of Africa. When in their native arboreal haunts they converse in a queer, chattering tongue, but learn the Zarovian tongue readily when captured and enslaved.

A monkey-man, if treated kindly, becomes a most faithful and devoted slave, ever on the alert to guard the person or property of his master or mistress with his very life, if need arise. Previous to the accession of Vernia to the throne of Reabon, they had been enslaved only by private individuals. She it was who first conceived the brilliant idea of enlisting their talents in the interests of the empire, and to this end had ordered the capture of great droves of them which were trained to act as scouts and spies.

Grandon slept tranquilly on, little realizing the deadly peril in store for himself and his comrades, as the cunning monkey-man sped swiftly through the tree-tops to a camp only ten miles distant, whither Vernia had swiftly brought her army of ten thousand men for the purpose of hunting down and capturing or exterminating the wandering bands of Fighting Traveks.