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Page 55
And as the Heliumite entered the small building a dozen mighty,
grotesque figures emerged from the doorway of the palace to speed
noiselessly across the plaza toward him.
For half an hour Carthoris remained in the building, digging for
water and gaining the few much-needed drops which were the fruits
of his labour. Then he rose and slowly left the structure. Scarce
had he stepped beyond the threshold than twelve Torquasian warriors
leaped upon him.
No time then to draw long-sword; but swift from his harness flew
his long, slim dagger, and as he went down beneath them more than
a single green heart ceased beating at the bite of that keen point.
Then they overpowered him and took his weapons away; but only nine
of the twelve warriors who had crossed the plaza returned with
their prize.
They dragged their prisoner roughly to the palace pits, where
in utter darkness they chained him with rusty links to the solid
masonry of the wall.
"To-morrow Thar Ban will speak with you," they said. "Now
he sleeps. But great will be his pleasure when he learns who has
wandered amongst us--and great will be the pleasure of Hortan Gur
when Thar Ban drags before him the mad fool who dared prick the
great jeddak with his sword."
Then they left him to the silence and the darkness.
For what seemed hours Carthoris squatted upon the stone floor of
his prison, his back against the wall in which was sunk the heavy
eye-bolt that secured the chain which held him.
Then, from out of the mysterious blackness before him, there
came to his ears the sound of naked feet moving stealthily upon
stone--approaching nearer and nearer to where he lay, unarmed and
defenceless.
Minutes passed--minutes that seemed hours--during which time
periods of sepulchral silence would be followed by a repetition of
the uncanny scraping of naked feet slinking warily upon him.
At last he heard a sudden rush of unshod soles across the empty
blackness, and at a little distance a scuffling sound, heavy
breathing, and once what he thought the muttered imprecation of
a man battling against great odds. Then the clanging of a chain,
and a noise as of the snapping back against stone of a broken link.
Again came silence. But for a moment only. Now he heard once
more the soft feet approaching him. He thought that he discerned
wicked eyes gleaming fearfully at him through the darkness. He
knew that he could hear the heavy breathing of powerful lungs.
Then came the rush of many feet toward him, and the THINGS were
upon him.
Hands terminating in manlike fingers clutched at his throat and
arms and legs. Hairy bodies strained and struggled against his
own smooth hide as he battled in grim silence against these horrid
foemen in the darkness of the pits of ancient Aaanthor.
Thewed like some giant god was Carthoris of Helium, yet in the
clutches of these unseen creatures of the pit's Stygian night he
was helpless as a frail woman.
Yet he battled on, striking futile blows against great, hispid
breasts he could not see; feeling thick, squat throats beneath his
fingers; the drool of saliva upon his cheek, and hot, foul breath
in his nostrils.
Fangs, too, mighty fangs, he knew were close, and why they did not
sink into his flesh he could not guess.
At last he became aware of the mighty surging of a number of his
antagonists back and forth upon the great chain that held him, and
presently came the same sound that he had heard at a little distance
from him a short time before he had been attacked--his chain had
parted and the broken end snapped back against the stone wall.
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