PANTING HEAVILY from his exertions, San Thoy leaned gloatingly over Vernia, lying where he had thrown her on the sleeping shelf. But his look of exultation suddenly turned to one of amazement. She had drawn back her feet and planted the heel in his solar plexus with such force that he staggered back across the little cabin, gasping for breath, until tripped by a chair and thrown to the floor.
She did not wait to see what he would do, but sprang to her feet and dashed out of the cabin. But San Thoy was unusually agile for a man of his rotund build, and she had not taken ten steps beyond the door of the cabin before he was up and after her.
Bounding off into the darkness with no sense of direction, and no thought in mind save that of escaping the pursuer from whose clutches she had just broken, Vernia suddenly became conscious of many pairs of gleaming eyes. Reflecting the light from the open door, they seemed to be looking at her from the surrounding darkness.
With a little scream of terror, she halted in her tracks, and San Thoy, uttering a cry of triumph, leaped forward to recapture her. But a keen barbed hook on the end of a long pole suddenly shot out from the darkness at his right, and as it pierced his shoulder, his shout of triumph became an agonized shriek. It jerked him backward, so that his feet flew from under him and he sat down with considerable violence.
At the same time, a heavy body came hurtling through the air and landed on two webbed feet in front of Vernia. It was about the height of a large man, and stood erect on two bowed legs with its toes turned so far outward that the two feet, with the heels together, were almost in line. The body was thick and heavy, and covered with scales in front. On the back and sides these scales were interspersed with huge bumps, which were also in evidence on the backs of the upper and lower limbs and on the head. The mouth was an enormous slit which reached nearly from ear to ear, armed with saw-like ridges of jaw bone in lieu of teeth. The eyes were large and set in bony sockets that protruded above the cheek bones. Like the feet, the hands were webbed and armed with sharp claws.
Thus the creature which stood before Vernia might have been nothing more than a very large and ferocious looking toad. But the fact that it carried weapons—a pole with a hook on the end like that which had impaled San Thoy, and a mace with a curved bill which hung by a thong from its wrist—and that it wore a belt in which a large knife was thrust, made it evident that this was no common toad. It was infinitely more formidable and terrible than a creature with the mind as well as the body of a toad could have been. Its use of weapons was evidence of an intelligence which was at least equal to that of the most primitive men.
The creature uttered a hoarse croaking cry, and threw a cold scaly arm around Vernia’s waist, slinging her over its shoulder with an ease that bespoke enormous strength. After struggling desperately for a moment, she realized the futility of attempting to pit her strength against that of the monster, and lay still.
As if it had been a signal or a call, the sound made by her captor brought a score of the creatures circling around them, all armed like the first. The beast that had captured San Thoy unhooked him without any attention to his cries of anguish, and threw him, writhing and moaning, over its warty shoulder. Then the entire group, led by Vernia’s captor, marched away.
As it was pitch dark after they left the vicinity of the lighted cabin, Vernia was unable to see where they were going. She judged, however, from the movements of her captor, that they were traversing some exceedingly rugged country. Presently, this gave way to marshy lowlands through which the toad men leaped and splashed, then to firmer ground covered with tall, coarse grass that brushed against Vernia as she was carried through it.
When the coming of the dawn made it possible for her to see, she found herself in the midst of a city of low, moss-covered mounds. In each of these mounds, a hole on the ground level, about three feet in diameter, served as a doorway, and from most of the doorways the huge inquiring eyes of the inhabitants peeped cautiously out at the prisoners as they were being brought in.
Many of the other creatures which were moving about the place paused to stare at Vernia, as if they had never seen any one of her race before. San Thoy, it appeared, was of a race which they had previously seen. At least he did not attract nearly so much attention.
A shallow, sluggish stream with muddy bottom meandered through the center of the village, and seated on its banks or partly submerged in its leisurely flowing water, a number of the creatures dozed languidly.
The adult creatures on the bank and in the water, Vernia noticed, were all females—smaller than the males, and if possible more hideous. But hopping and crawling around them, and swimming in the muddy water, were hundreds of youngsters, apparently newly hatched, and none over eight inches tall.
Her captor chancing to walk quite near the bank with her, Vernia saw, with some surprise, that the placidly dozing females were there for a purpose that of hatching their young; for she saw one of the large lumps on the back of the nearest female burst open, and an infant, after tumbling out into the mud, made straight for the water and dived in. Its mother paid no attention whatever to the incident, nor did she so much as turn to look at her offspring. Several other lumps on her back had already burst open, and she was waiting for the rest to do the same.
Presently her captor left the bank of the stream, and after threading many pathways between the numerous mounds, stopped before a mound which was much larger than any of the others and appeared to be in the very heart of the city. It had a number of entrances but her captor chose the largest, and stopping, walked through it into a large, dome-like room which was lighted by a peculiar, phosphorescent radiance that gave everything a ghastly greenish tint. This peculiar light came from immense writhing glowworms suspended on chains overhead. The air of the place was filled with a musty stench, similar to that which Vernia had noticed outside, but here so strong as to be almost overpowering.
Her captor swung her down from his warty shoulders, and set her on her feet. Then she was whirled around to face a creature much more repulsive looking than the one that had captured her. It was squatting on the slimy cap of a gray toadstool set against the rear wall, staring at her with its goggling, gold-rimmed eyes. Its scaly hide draped its body in wrinkled folds, and there was about it a look of dried-up emaciation, as if it were very old and partly mummified.
One taloned hand held a huge mace with a curved bill. The other toyed with the hilt of a long, curved knife that hung from a massive chain girdling the monster’s middle.
On either side of the fungoid throne occupied by the hideous creature was a yellow man of Huitsen, standing with folded arms in the attitude of a slave. These two pirates, captives of the toad people and evidently in attendance to the repulsive thing, which seemed to be in authority, were quite filthy, and clothed in a few tattered rags which had once been garments. Both leered at the beautiful captive with their cat-like eyes, and grinned toothlessly.
After staring at her for fully five minutes, the squat monster on the toadstool rolled its gold-rimmed eyes toward the yellow man who stood at its right, and emitted a rapid succession of hoarse, booming croaks.
Much to Vernia’s surprise the man replied in a human approximation of the same sounds—evidently the language of the toad people. Then he addressed Vernia. “His Majesty wishes to know your name, and whence you came,” he said in patoa.
Vernia raised her eyebrows: “His Majesty! Do you refer to that croaking monster?”
“I refer to Grunk, Rogo of the Valkars. On this island his wish is law. It will be wise for you to answer his question.”
“Tell him that I am Vernia, Torroga of Reabon,” she directed, “and that he will be richly rewarded if I am returned, unharmed, to my people.”
For several minutes the toad ruler and the yellow man carried on a croaking conversation. Then the latter addressed Vernia once more.
“His Majesty knows nothing of rewards, nor is he concerned with them,” said he. “It was difficult for me to convey the idea to him in the Valkar language, and even then it did not impress him. He is interested in you for one reason, and that is because you are the first human female his warriors have ever captured. A number of the Huitsenni, who stop at this island for fresh water, have been captured and enslaved from time to time by the toad people. As we are more skillful than they in mining and smelting metals and the manufacture of weapons, tools, chains, and ornaments, they set us at these tasks. They recognize, also that some of us have superior cunning, I, Hui Sen, and my brother, Lui Sen, are retained for that reason as counsellors for the rogo. We try to do our work well, for as long as we prove useful we will be kept alive. But if our work displeases Grunk, we will either be killed and eaten by the Valkars or fed to Sistabez.”
“And who is Sistabez?”
“The deity of the toad people. They think him a god, though he is only a snake—an immense serpent who must be at least a thousand years old, for he has outlived many generation of Valkars. As far back as Valkar tradition goes, Sistabez has lived in his cave in the mountainside, emerging at regular intervals when hungry. At such times living sacrifices are fed to him in order to keep him from raiding the village, which he has done several times when sacrifices were not brought promptly.
“Sometimes he devours but one victim. At other times he is not satisfied with less than three or four. When he is seen emerging from his cave, guards sound the alarm, and a victim is chained to a stake in his path. A second victim is chained farther down the pathway, and a third still farther. He may devour only the first, or perhaps the first and second, but sometimes he comes on and devours the third. If he turns back to his cave then, all is well. If not, a fourth victim is chained in his pathway. Never has he been known to devour more than four victims at one meal, but woe be to the Valkars if he becomes angry, for then he will wantonly slay hundreds before returning to his lair.”
Once more, Hui Sen turned and deferentially addressed Grunk in the croaking language. For some time the Rogo of the Valkars made no reply, but continued to stare at Vernia with his round, gold-rimmed eyes. Then, apparently having come to some decision, he croaked an order to the yellow slave.
“His Majesty,” said Hui Sen, “has decided to retain you alive that you may serve the purpose for which females were created, and thus multiply the number of his slaves. Later, he will make some mental tests among the slaves, to determine who shall be your mate.”
Up to this moment, Vernia had desired to live, hoping in the face of despair that she might some day be restored to Grandon. But as the significance of Hui Sen’s words sank into her brain, her one desire was for speedy death. The hilt of her captor’s knife projected invitingly before her. Suddenly turning, she whipped it from the sheath and drew it back to plunge it into her bosom. But Lui Sen, standing beside the throne, while less talkative than his brother, was more observing, and the first to perceive her intention. With a cat-like spring he alighted in front of her, seized her wrist, and wrenched the knife from her grasp. Then the Rogo croaked an order, and Vernia’s captor dragged her out of the hut.
She was led through the village of moss-covered mounds, toward a large mound in the midst of an extensive enclosure, surrounded by a paling of metal bars and guarded by armed Valkars. After exchanging croaks with her conductor, one of the guards opened a gate and she was pushed into the enclosure. Here, several hundred Huitsenni slaves were at work, forging, sharpening, and polishing weapons for their batrachian masters under the supervision of armed Valkar overseers. The forges were hollowed stones in which were beds of live coals. The bellows were the lungs of huge Valkars, who blew through reed tubes which entered holes in the bottoms of the forges. The anvils were large, rounded stones, at which the yellow workers squatted as they hammered out hooks, mace heads, and knife blades.
The place was a bedlam—the clanking of metal, the roar of flames, the croaks of the overseers, and the chatter of the slaves. The floor of the enclosure was littered with filth and everywhere spattered with red kerra juice. The Valkars, though they did not use the narcotic themselves evidently believed that it made their human slaves more efficient, and kept them well supplied with the pods containing the red spores, which they mumbled from morning to night, and spat unbelievable quantities of reddened saliva all about them.
Other workers were sharpening the knife blades, hook points and barbs, and mace bills, with rough stones, and still others were polishing them with sand. The metal parts then went to the assemblers, where the knives and maces were fitted with wooden handles, and the hooks with long shafts.
Sickened by the squalor of the place and overwhelmed with horror at thought of the fate which Grunk, Rogo of the Valkars, planned for her, Vernia shrank back against the bars of the enclosure. The yellow ex-pirates seemed fully aware of Grunk’s intentions with regard to her, and raised lascivious eyes from their work to drink in her beauty, the while they bandied coarse jests, and speculated as to who would be the lucky slave to draw this prize of feminine pulchritude for whom mighty emperors had contended in vain.
Quite near her, a group of Huitsenni was assembling knives, tossing them into a central pile when finished. With one of these in her possession, she could swiftly defeat the purpose of Grunk. It was only a few steps to the pile. Would they divine her purpose?
She decided that a circuitous route would be the least likely to make them suspicious. So she set off first in the opposite direction, pausing to watch various groups of workers as if greatly interested in what they were doing. The coarse jokes of each group subsided as she drew near each in turn. They were more than a little awed by the imminence of the Torroga of Reabon. And there were a number of egotistical creatures among them who strove to impress her with attempts at dignity and gentle bearing.
Last of all, she approached the group of workers surrounding the rapidly mounting pile of knives. Casually, she picked up one of the finished weapons as if to examine it. With a swift movement, she raised it aloft, poised above her breast.
A greasy yellow hand reached over her shoulder—seized her wrist and shook the knife from her grasp. Then a coarse laugh grated in her ear.
She spun around to face the filthy and ragged Hui Sen. Evidently he had been stealthily following her for some time.
“Come,” he grinned toothlessly, retaining a tight grip on her wrist. “From now on you belong to me, for I am the Rogo’s choice.”