THE instant Grandon learned they were being attacked by Reabonians, he was on his feet directing the fighting. First at one point, then another, 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!”
A surge of pride swept over him. 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 campfires. 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 fire flared up once more, and they heard a shout of bated 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?”
“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 be off at once.” They were halted by a sentry at some distance from the camp; at a sign from the guide, they 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. The guide 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 Earthman did likewise.
“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 Bordeen commended his generalship in 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 him.”
A man at Bordeen’s right spoke up. “Was it not of Prince Thaddor that he reminded you?”
“Yes—now that you mention it, he did. Could it be that cruel treatment has changed our gentle prince into a fighting man? Bring me a flashlight. There is a mark on Prince Thaddor’s foot that few know of, and it could not be simulated. Should it be he, we must dispatch runners to gather in all our scattered bands, for then a great feast will be in order.”
The long-suppressed hope in Bordeen’s heart was making him plan before examining the evidence. But when he and the others emerged from the sleeping Grandon’s shelter, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind.
Grandon’s awakening on the following morning, was perhaps as much of a surprise as was the memorable morning when he first opened his eyes in the quarry-slaves’ sleeping quarters.
The rude hut in which he slept had been draped with curtains of shimmering scarlet cloth, and the interior hung with wreaths, festoons and shields on which were emblazoned the coat of arms of the royal house of Uxpo. The men of his command, who had occupied the hut with him, had been removed to other quarters, and he beheld two who introduced themselves respectively as his valet and his armorer.
At first he thought some joke was being perpetrated by the commander, but was assured that this was not the case. He permitted his hair to be cut after the prevailing fashion of Uxpo, but when his valet commenced to trim his beard, which was cut off square below the chin, in accordance with the custom of the land, he demurred and ordered a clean shave.
As the armorer buckled a broad belt about him, from which descended a tork embossed with silver, and a scarbo whose hilt was gold set with jewels, he said: “As it is your duty to supply me with weapons, I am going to ask you to procure a sword for me.”
“I will procure it for your highness if it be humanly possible, but I have never heard of one. If I might have a description, perhaps . . . ”
“Of course you have never heard of it. It is a weapon used on another planet. Have your metal workers fashion for me a weapon with a hilt like a scarbo, but with a long, straight, two-edged blade, slender and pliable, and of the strongest tempered steel.”
The armorer bowed with hand extended palm downward, and backed through the doorway.
He had scarcely departed, ere Bordeen entered, followed by a concourse of Uxponian nobles and officers. All bowed low before Grandon in the customary salute to royalty.
Accepting their homage courteously, he permitted himself to be conducted to the head of a huge banquet table on which a sumptuous feast was spread, amid the ringing cheers of a thousand Fighting Traveks.
Bordeen made the formal speech of welcome, addressing Grandon as Prince Thaddor. Then the latter arose.
“Comrades,” he began, “your mighty commander has just addressed me as Prince Thaddor. I have come among you to do the work of your prince, not to assume his name, for I am not Thaddor, nor is he any longer an inhabitant of this world. While he lives my life on the planet Earth—or Terra—it shall be my endeavor to lead you to victory. I therefore assume leadership of your armies, men of Uxpo, not as Prince Thaddor, but as Grandon of Terra.”
This speech spread consternation in the ranks of the Fighting Traveks. As he resumed his seat there was no applause—only an ominous silence. Grandon resolved to tender his resignation, when Bordeen stood up, flushed with the fever of inspiration.
“My countrymen, a prophecy has been fulfilled. Some time ago I learned that a wise man, a prophet and seer from the distant land of Olba, was in this vicinity. In my extremity and worry I sought him out. This is what he told me:
“Go back to your people and tell them to be of good cheer, for your royal leader will soon be with you. He will be young and strong, and expert with the scarbo, but his first request will be for a weapon which he calls a sword. He will resemble a prince of Uxpo who will have, by that time, journeyed to another world. Reject him and you will see him no more. Accept him, and he will lead you to victory.”
There was a brief instant of awed silence as Bordeen finished his discourse. Then, as if by a prearranged signal, a thousand scarbos flashed on high and a thousand voices thundered: “Long live Grandon of Terra, Prince of Uxpo!”
Ere the tumult had ceased, the armorer threaded his way through the crowd, holding before him a scarlet cushion on which reposed a weapon new and strange to all Zarovians. He deposited it before Grandon, just as the tumult was subsiding.
Grandon drew it from its scabbard and held it aloft, saying: “This is the sword of which your prophet spoke. I pledge it with my life to the cause of Uxpo.”
Grandon, exalted as he was, found time to marvel at the clever planning of Vorn Vangal—or whatever agent of Dr. Morgan’s had put across this prophecy. Then a courier dashed breathlessly into the hall.
“The Reabonians!” he gasped. “They are coming, a great army of them, led by the princess herself! We are hemmed in on three sides!”
By this time more runners were arriving from different directions, all with descriptions of a mighty army encircling the camp.
Grandon marshalled his men for a retreat toward the north—the only direction left open to them—urging the utmost speed; for to have those converging wings meet ahead of them meant almost certain defeat.
As it was, they were barely in time for a swift charge between them under a heavy fire of tork bullets which exacted a heavy toll from their ranks. They were still far from safety, however, for the Reabonians followed in swift pursuit.
Grandon held council with Bordeen and they decided to make for a narrow mountain pass nearly four miles distant, which led to a valley beyond.
After a running fight lasting more than two hours, they reached their objective with their numbers sadly depleted. They had reckoned, however, without the military genius of Princess Vernia; she had anticipated this move and filled the narrow pass with armed men.
The Uxpo troops were in a trap from which escape seemed utterly impossible. The pass was out of the question, for with even a small body of men defending it, it was practically invulnerable. On either side of the entrance rose sheer precipices, which even a monkey-man could not have scaled, while in front of them there was an army of between eight and nine thousand men.
Grandon kept to the front ranks, shouting encouragement to his men, and using his sword to such good advantage that at times the Reabonians fell away from him in sheer wonder at his prowess.
But the Traveks were fighting a hopeless battle; already their number was reduced to less than five hundred.
At this juncture a force intervened on which neither of the contestants had counted. Grandon’s first inkling of what was to take place was the sight of a mass of black clouds, apparently hanging midway between the tree-tops and those fleecy, silver-gray mists which are ever present in the upper Zarovian atmosphere, and moving swiftly toward them.
He had expected a storm, but when it burst in all its fury he was ill-prepared for such a violent demonstration of the power of the elements. The first torrent of rain was followed by inky darkness, punctuated at intervals by brilliant flashes of lightning. The thunder roared incessantly, reverberating through the mountains, and fighting, either by sound or sight, was made exceedingly difficult.
It was Grandon’s opportunity to save what remained of his little army, and he was not slow to take advantage of it. He called Bordeen to his side.
“Make haste and divide the command into small parties of not more than twenty men each,” he said. “In the confusion of the storm, small bodies of men can escape with little or no fighting, whereas a charge by the entire company would be sure to be detected and opposed every foot of the way. Tonight each band must shift for itself; tomorrow we will reunite. The place of rendezvous will be the base of those great twin mountains which mark the northernmost end of this valley.”
As Bordeen hastened away to carry out the plans, his commander once more took his place in the line of battle, forging steadily ahead.
It was some time before he discovered that his comrades were no longer with him. Then a particularly brilliant flash of lightning revealed the fact that he was completely surrounded by enemy soldiers. They saw his plight at the same instant, and rushed at him in the darkness that followed. Acting on a sudden thought, he turned swiftly about, and facing in an opposite direction, walked slowly backward.
The ruse worked, for the men behind him, believing him to be one of their comrades who was a little timid about approaching the great swordsman, surged around and ahead of him. When the last man had passed he turned once more, and ran for the forest.
What troubled him most was how to gauge his course through the dense, dripping labyrinth that engulfed him.
At this juncture he heard a noise as of a small body of men running ahead of him; he decided to follow them as swiftly and silently as possible, and make sure they were not Reabonians before divulging his presence.
As the minutes wore on, he could tell by the sounds ahead that he was gaining. Suddenly he emerged from the forest and found himself on a flat, sandy beach. A flash of lightning revealed the fact that he was not following a body of men, but a huge reptile, a gigantic amphibian with a monstrous lizard-like body to which was attached a serpentine head and neck of immense proportions. It was pursuing someone else with an agility little short of marvelous for so ponderous a body, and had almost come up with its quarry.
The victim, who appeared little more than a slender boy, was making frantic efforts to escape, but it appeared that his doom was inevitable.
Another lightning flash showed the reptile with neck arched and jaws distended, ready to strike. A cry of mortal terror came to him from the darkness. Grandon unsheathed his sword.