AT GHEK'S COMMAND
TURAN the panthan chafed in his chains.Time dragged; silence and monotony prolonged minutes into hours.Uncertainty of the fate of the woman he loved turned each hour into an eternity of hell.He listened impatiently for the sound of approaching footsteps that he might see and speak to some living creature and learn, perchance, some word of Tara of Helium.After torturing hours his ears were rewarded by the rattle of harness and arms.Men were coming! He waited breathlessly.Perhaps they were his executioners; but he would welcome them notwithstanding.He would question them.But if they knew naught of Tara he would not divulge the location of the hiding place in which he had left her.
Now they came--a half-dozen warriors and an officer, escorting an unarmed man; a prisoner, doubtless.Of this Turan was not left long in doubt, since they brought the newcomer and chained him to an adjoining ring.Immediately the panthan commenced to question the officer in charge of the guard.
"Tell me," he demanded, "why I have been made prisoner, and if other strangers were captured since I entered your city.""What other prisoners?" asked the officer.
"A woman, and a man with a strange head," replied Turan.
"It is possible," said the officer; "but what were their names?""The woman was Tara, Princess of Helium, and the man was Ghek, a kaldane, of Bantoom.""These were your friends?" asked the officer.
"Yes," replied Turan.
"It is what I would know," said the officer, and with a curt command to his men to follow him he turned and left the cell.
"Tell me of them!" cried Turan after him."Tell me of Tara of Helium! Is she safe?" but the man did not answer and soon the sound of their departure died in the distance.
"Tara of Helium was safe, but a short time since," said the prisoner chained at Turan's side.
The panthan turned toward the speaker, seeing a large man, handsome of face and with a manner both stately and dignified.
"You have seen her?" he asked."They captured her then? She is in danger?""She is being held in The Towers of Jetan as a prize for the next games," replied the stranger.
"And who are you?" asked Turan."And why are you here, a prisoner?""I am A-Kor the dwar, keeper of The Towers of Jetan," replied the other."I am here because I dared speak the truth of O-Tar the jeddak, to one of his officers.""And your punishment?" asked Turan.
"I do not know.O-Tar has not yet spoken.Doubtless the games--perhaps the full ten, for O-Tar does not love A-Kor, his son.""You are the jeddak's son?" asked Turan.
"I am the son of O-Tar and of a slave, Haja of Gathol, who was a princess in her own land."Turan looked searchingly at the speaker.A son of Haja of Gathol!
A son of his mother's sister, this man, then, was his own cousin.
Well did Gahan remember the mysterious disappearance of the Princess Haja and an entire utan of her personal troops.She had been upon a visit far from the city of Gathol and returning home had vanished with her whole escort from the sight of man.So this was the secret of the seeming mystery? Doubtless it explained many other similar disappearances that extended nearly as far back as the history of Gathol.Turan scrutinized his companion, discovering many evidences of resemblance to his mother's people.
A-Kor might have been ten years younger than he, but such differences in age are scarce accounted among a people who seldom or never age outwardly after maturity and whose span of life may be a thousand years.
"And where lies Gathol?" asked Turan.
"Almost due east of Manator," replied A-Kor.
"And how far?"
"Some twenty-one degrees it is from the city of Manator to the city of Gathol," replied A-Kor; "but little more than ten degrees between the boundaries of the two countries.Between them, though, there lies a country of torn rocks and yawning chasms."Well did Gahan know this country that bordered his upon the west--even the ships of the air avoided it because of the treacherous currents that rose from the deep chasms, and the almost total absence of safe landings.He knew now where Manator lay and for the first time in long weeks the way to his own Gathol, and here was a man, a fellow prisoner, in whose veins flowed the blood of his own ancestors--a man who knew Manator;its people, its customs and the country surrounding it--one who could aid him, with advice at least, to find a plan for the rescue of Tara of Helium and for escape.But would A-Kor--could he dare broach the subject? He could do no less than try.
"And O-Tar you think will sentence you to death?" he asked; "and why?""He would like to," replied A-Kor, "for the people chafe beneath his iron hand and their loyalty is but the loyalty of a people to the long line of illustrious jeddaks from which he has sprung.He is a jealous man and has found the means of disposing of most of those whose blood might entitle them to a claim upon the throne, and whose place in the affections of the people endowed them with any political significance.The fact that I was the son of a slave relegated me to a position of minor importance in the consideration of O-Tar, yet I am still the son of a jeddak and might sit upon the throne of Manator with as perfect congruity as O-Tar himself.Combined with this is the fact that of recent years the people, and especially many of the younger warriors, have evinced a growing affection for me, which I attribute to certain virtues of character and training derived from my mother, but which O-Tar assumes to be the result of an ambition upon my part to occupy the throne of Manator.
"And now, I am firmly convinced, he has seized upon my criticism of his treatment of the slave girl Tara as a pretext for ridding himself of me.""But if you could escape and reach Gathol," suggested Turan.