THE PANDEMONIUM of battle was punctuated by the staccato reports of the men’s cannonlike mattorks as Grandon reached the interior of the men’s sleeping quarters. He mounted to the topmost chamber from which Joto directed the activities of the two mattork crews while he shouted orders to the defenders.
Here he found Vernia and Rotha. “See,” the marsh-girl cried, “they come by thousands and tens of thousands. They cover the entire landscape. Our defenses will be crushed.”
“You forget that they are only brutes, Rotha,” replied Vernia, “and as such may be overcome by creatures of superior intellect. Men are the lords of creation, not sabits.”
“But they are wiser than all other animals . . . ”
“Except men.” She turned to Grandon smiling. “We are going to win this battle, are we not, Robert Grandon?”
“Most assuredly,” he replied. “However, I am not so positive that we will be able to hold this building. This is hardly a safe place.”
“You forget,” said Vernia, “that I, too, am a soldier. I prefer to remain here, and if necessary, take part in the fighting.”
“I am sure you are too good a soldier to disobey orders, and I am in command. You are ordered below.”
A quick flash of resentment came to her eyes at his tone and words.
“You presume to command me? To dictate to the Princess of Reabon? I only command. Others obey.”
In outraged dignity she turned and started toward the ramparts, but a strong pair of arms picked her up and carried her down the runways and to the foot of the stairway, while Rotha trailed behind. Grandon set Vernia gently down and, taking her by the shoulders, turned her so she looked up at him with flaming eyes and heaving bosom.
“You would only be in my way, and would more than likely be carried off by the sabits. Now will you go forward peaceably, or must I carry you the rest of the way?”
A slight flush suffused her cheeks, but when she raised her eyes to his, there, was a new look in them. “I will go, my commander.”
“Spoken like a true soldier.” He paused for a moment to admire her, walking gracefully with Rotha down the passageway; then he turned to get back to the fighting.
Grandon found the lower floor of the men’s sleeping quarters well defended, so climbed once more to the top of the structure where Joto was directing the battle. As far as he could see in every direction the ground swarmed with sabits. In a short time the brown-mouthed sabit community was overwhelmed and its buildings were razed to the ground, as were three of the outer structures of the white sabit community.
The men in the central building held their own for a considerable time, but their outer ring of sabit guards were killed and torn to pieces almost instantly. At length it appeared inevitable that this building must fall. Sabits were gnawing their way through the walls and more and more soldiers were required to hold them back.
“I will take a force to help them,” said Joto.
“No. You are doing very well here. I will go to their assistance,” replied Grandon.
Taking fifty men from the reserve force in the storeroom Grandon led them through the low underground runway. As they arrived the guards were being driven to the inner chambers, but they rallied with the aid of the new reinforcements and once more drove the sabits from the building.
Sheb, the captain in command here, was on the roof directing the mattork crew, so Grandon climbed thither after assuring himself that the first floor was well defended. He found the crew standing idle while Sheb, fuming and cursing, was attempting to dislodge a jammed gas clip from the breech of the weapon.
“Are you all so witless that you insert a clip backward after having been told the proper way a thousand times?” he roared. “For the price of a bowl of wine I would have you stripped of your armor and thrown to the sabits.”
“Let me try,” said Grandon coolly. “I believe I can get that clip out for you.”
Surprised at the sudden appearance of his commander, Sheb stood up and saluted hurriedly. With the point of his sword Grandon gently pried the recalcitrant clip, turned it, and closed the breech. Once more the crew sprayed bullets into the ranks of the attackers.
A soldier rushed up from below. “The outer walls are nearly gone,” he gasped. “In a few minutes the building will cave in.”
“Order a retreat. There is no use in defending this shell.”
“The king and queen sabit prisoners—shall we take them with us?”
“Leave them behind.”
“If we leave them we will have no sabit slaves,” said Sheb.
“Plenty more can be captured if we successfully withstand this attack,” replied Grandon.
Another messenger arrived from below.
“The sabits have burrowed into the runway,” he cried. “We will not be able to return to the other building.”
“Everyone below at once,” shouted Grandon. “Bring the mattork and ammunition. Hurry!”
The building trembled and one of the walls collapsed as they rushed to the ground floor. “Into the runway, every man of you,” he commanded. “Let the mattork crew go first and clear the way.”
Soon the men were all crowded into the narrow runway while Grandon and Sheb, standing abreast, fought off the sabits that attempted to follow. The entire structure collapsed a few minutes later, crushing not only the imprisoned ruler sabits but many of the attackers as well. The entrance to the runway was completely bottled up by fallen debris.
Shouldering his way through his crowded soldiers, Grandon at length arrived at the point where the sabits had burrowed into the runway. Here the mattork crew worked desperately, flanked by a half dozen soldiers. The cut in the runway was more than twenty feet across, and swarmed with sabits. Across this breach he could see Oro and his men fighting to keep the attackers from entering on the other side.
Meanwhile the sabits on the ground above the runways were burrowing in a hundred places. Already a third of the men who guarded the central building had been dragged away by the attackers.
After a short conversation with the captain Sheb, Grandon ran across the twenty-foot breach the sabits had made in their defenses, leaping this way and that to avoid the snapping forceps.
Oro and the others welcomed him with enthusiasm.
He ran swiftly through the passageway and, upon coming up, quickly placed crews in the ancient Albine fighting chariots he had sent from the armory some time before. Taking a place with the men in the foremost machine, he led them through the door straight into the army of sabits, the guards standing aside to let them pass. They formed a flying wedge with Grandon’s machine at the apex, cutting a wide swath in the ranks of the attackers.
The efficacy of the machines was surprising, even to Grandon, who had formed some idea of their possibilities. The whirling knives and clubs literally cut the opposing sabits to ribbons.
Arriving at the mouth of the runway which held the imprisoned men, they quickly drove back the attackers, then kept them at bay by running a circle about the breach while Sheb led his followers to safety. When the last man had crossed they formed a wedge once more and cut their way back to their comrades, entering the door amid shouts of acclamation from the defenders.
Night fell, and the fighting continued by torchlight, while Grandon made further plans. There were more than a hundred of the machines in the armory, and he planned to press them all into service as soon as possible. Taking the entire force of reserves with him, he hurried thither, not noticing the absence of Vernia and Rotha who he supposed had retired to their bedchambers in the women’s quarters.
He was surprised at sight of the open exit door, but decided that he must not have pushed it far enough for the lock to catch.
The machines were quickly dragged from their ancient resting places and provided with crews. Within a half hour they were assembled in the building, ready for the charge. One by one they emerged from the doorway, spreading out in a great line six hundred feet long, then “Forward!” shouted Grandon, while Joto on the roof withheld the mattork fire.
The charge was irresistible. With every fifty feet of progress a thousand sabits perished. They cut completely through the sabit army, turned their machines and charged again, breaking down the resistance of those who had instinctively filled in the lines. Back and forth they drove through the thinning ranks of the attackers until the survivors, seeing that further resistance was futile, turned and fled.
Thus was the power of the sabits forever broken in the valley.
When Grandon entered the building with his victorious machine crews, the people cheered until they were hoarse. Posting a guard at the entrance, he called them to attend what he had to say to them in the great audience chamber of the ancient Albines.
When the people were assembled in the audience chamber, Grandon mounted the steps of the throne and faced them.
“My friends,” he began, “I have called you together, not merely to congratulate you on your momentous victory over those monsters who have, for centuries, oppressed you and your forefathers, but also to make a few suggestions for your coming nation. For countless ages you have been ruled by the sabits. From now on you will need a government of your own. As you have no royal family you must choose your king. Let him be one who has your interests at heart, one who has the ability and the will to carry forward the great work which has only begun tonight. Whom will you have for king?”
“Grandon of Terra!” shouted a burly soldier, waving his sword aloft. Immediately the cry was reechoed throughout the audience.
He held up his hand for silence, but many minutes elapsed before the tumult subsided. “I appreciate the honor,” he said, “and regret that I must decline it. It is of vital importance that the Princess of Reabon be returned to her country and friends at once. Moreover, my own kingdom of Uxpo awaits its ruler.
“If you will permit me to make a suggestion, I will name one who is admirably suited for the place. One who, by his military genius, and training, his bravery and prowess as a soldier, has already won a place at the head of your army. Let Joto be your first king.”
Joto was not without considerable popularity, and so when Grandon led him up the steps to the throne, there was a burst of cheering almost equal to that which had followed the nomination of Grandon. Grandon took the crown of the ancient Albine rulers, blew the dust of centuries from it, and placed it on the bared head of the young commander.
“You have elected me king,” said Joto with his inevitable smile, “but king of what? Just as truly as we were people without a country before our deliverance, so now are we a country without a name. My first official act, therefore, will be to name this nation Granterra, in grateful tribute to the man who has made it possible.”
There was more cheering for Grandon, for Joto and for the newly-named nation. Then Joto, after making Oro commander, appointed the five councilors who were to assist him, asking them to step forward as their names were called. He named the four other captains and Tholto in order, but Tholto failed to appear.
One of the latter’s lieutenants, on being questioned, stated that Tholto had left him in command during the hottest fighting, and had departed with twenty men. About this time Grandon recalled that he had not seen either Vernia or Rotha since he left them at the foot of the stairway, and hastily sent a girl to the women’s quarters to ascertain if they were safe. Joto dispatched soldiers to search all the underground passageways and rooms for the missing mojak and his men.
While they were out, the girl Grandon had sent returned with the news that neither Vernia nor Rotha had been seen since morning.
In a flash Grandon thought of the open door he had noticed while getting the fighting machines; he rushed out of the audience chamber and along the passageway which led to the armory. Joto, Oro and the more swift-footed among the soldiers followed closely.
Quickly springing the hidden catch, he ran down the steps and out on the docks where he saw at a glance that one of the boats was missing.
“You may as well call in your searchers, Joto,” he said sadly. “They are gone.”
“But where—how?”
“This stream leads out of the valley. They have disappeared. One of the boats is missing. The conclusion is obvious. I must have twenty picked fighting men at once, provisions, water, torches, and a mattork cannon. And, Oro, get me one of those large searchlights we took from the airship. We will need it in these caverns. Hurry!”
While Grandon carefully examined the nearest boat to determine its seaworthiness, Joto rushed his men as they had never been rushed before. Within a half hour the craft was provisioned and fitted with searchlight and mattork, while twenty of Granterra’s brawniest fighting men stood ready to man her.
Grandon said good-by to Joto and turning to Oro, was surprised to find him in an attitude of supplication.
“A boon, mighty Grandon of Terra,” he pleaded.
“Gladly, Oro, if within my power.”
“Take me with you.”
“I have twenty men already, and don’t want to weight the boat unnecessarily. Besides you are now commander-in-chief of Granterra’s armies, and your duty lies here. Why do you wish to leave?”
“Tholto has stolen one who means more than life to me. I would rescue her or avenge her.”
“You mean Rotha?”
Oro nodded.
“Ask King Joto. If you have his consent, you may come.”
“You have my consent, Oro, and both of you my heartfelt wishes for your success,” said Joto. “I will appoint a substitute for Oro while he is gone, and will see that he is reinstated on his return.”
The soldiers took their places at the paddle holes, Oro was placed at the tiller, and Grandon manned the searchlight on the forward deck. A hundred willing hands pushed them off, and they forged swiftly ahead beneath the eroded archways hung with glistening stalactites.
Grandon found Oro a skillful navigator and his soldiers adept with the paddles. Joto had selected them, not only for their fighting prowess, but also because they had previously lived with their people in the great salt marsh where boats were a necessity and every man proficient in their use.
The stream gradually widened as they progressed, and often forked in numerous ramifications, flowing through a labyrinth of arched caves for a distance, then uniting in a common channel farther on. The waters and the banks on either side of them teemed with weird subterranean life. Reptiles and animals of a thousand sizes and kinds swarmed the banks, and glided through the water about the boat.
Once they struck a huge saurian that nearly capsized their craft, but the creature sank out of sight and did not offer to molest them. Grandon noticed one peculiarity common to all, namely, that they were sightless, and paid no attention to the searchlight. In fact, most of them were without even rudimentary eyes, though a few had eye-sockets, and one or two boasted antennae-like feelers sprouting from the head.
Upon rounding a sharp bend in the river they suddenly heard a terrific roaring sound that totally obliterated the noise made by the stream. Grandon flashed his light ahead to learn the cause, then quickly ordered the paddlers to reverse, for directly ahead was a solid wall of falling water that churned the stream into foam and sent clouds of spray whirling toward them.
The momentum of the boat carried them dangerously close before they could stop, but Oro veered to one side, ramming the prow against the bank until the paddlers could make headway against the current. When at a safe distance they turned and made for the first fork, through which they found a safe passage around the falls.
That the wall of water they had so narrowly escaped was the bottom of the whirlpool in which the surface stream ended, Grandon could not doubt. He was therefore able to determine their distance from the cliffs with reasonable certainty, and calculated that within two hours at the most, they should be outside the valley.
He stood on the deck of the swiftly-gliding boat, turning his light this way and that, watching the blind monsters, and did not see the crouching thing on the top of the great overhanging shelf under which they must shortly pass—a thing without eyes, but with nose and ears abnormally developed, a thing with great cavernous jaws armed with a double row of razor-sharp teeth and with powerful claws that could rend and tear the toughest saurians limb from limb.
It was all over in an instant. Oro, looking ahead as they came under the overhanging bank, saw a great, sinuous bulk shoot downward, sweeping Grandon from the narrow deck and into the dark depths below.
They stopped the boat and hung near the spot for more than an hour, hoping that Grandon might have broken away from the monster, but saw only a few bubbles and something that looked like blood, both of which quickly disappeared in the foaming current. Frantically they sought him, making vain efforts to surmount the shelf and rescue their commander. At last, they sadly resumed their journey.