The Greatest Works of Otis Adelbert Kline - 18 Books in One Edition. Otis Adelbert Kline

Evidently the silticum which had attacked the Doravian guards had seen us, even as Loralie had feared, and was now on our trail.

      Quickly taking the last clip of explosive projectiles from my belt, I removed two of the needle-like missiles and bound each to the head of an arrow. Then I strung my bow and awaited the coming of the monster.

      Chixa called to me from the leaf crown of a tall tree-fern. “Come up into the trees, Rogo. You cannot fight a silticum.”

      “Yes, climb before it is too late,” called Griff. “No one has ever slain a silticum.”

      Although I knew nothing of the ways of this saurian, I had seen its great size and knew that if it had intelligence enough to do so it could pull down any tree within my range of vision. In view of this fact, and also because I could not get about as swiftly as the cave-apes in the trees, I felt safer on the ground.

      “Stay up in the trees if you like,” I answered them. “I will show you how your king slays a silticum.”

      In a few moments I saw the huge green head swaying on the snaky neck at a height of about twenty feet above the ground. It was looking this way and that, apparently searching for me. As it drew closer I saw that it was indeed the same monster that had attacked the machine men in the boat, for projecting through its lower jaw was the transparent sword blade where the Doravian guardsman had thrust it, and which the creature had been unable to dislodge.

      I fitted an explosive arrow to my bowstring, and at this moment the monster spied me. With a hiss like steam escaping from a locomotive, it distended its enormous jaws and charged straight for me. Taking careful aim at the cavernous maw, I drew the arrow back to the head and let fly.

      The reptile turned slightly so my shaft did not strike the target squarely, but considering the terrific force of the tork projectile this did not greatly matter. For although the missile struck the monster in the corner of the mouth, the explosion tore off the whole side of its head.

      I instantly fitted my second arrow to the bowstring, but instead of advancing the great saurian swerved to one side and began threshing about in a circle, striking this way and that with its huge, scaly tail which swept the fern trunks before it, knocking them over as if they had been mere reeds. As the tail now appeared to be the most formidable weapon Of the beast, I aimed my second shaft with a view to crippling this appendage, and let fly.

      It struck the monster just above one of its thick hind legs, blasting a great hole in the flank and not only crippling the tail but both hind legs as well.

      Upon seeing this, the cave-apes instantly descended on the ‘stricken reptile with yells of triumph, and were soon hacking at its heaving sides with their saw-edged clubs and prying up huge scales with their flint knives in order to get at the quivering flesh underneath.

      “Hail, Zinlo!” the shouted. “Mighty warrior, mighty hunter, mighty sorcerer! With his magic he slays even the silticum, the terror of stream and forest!”

      As I watched the cave-apes at their bloody feast, I recalled that I, too, was hungry. Elbowing my way through the growling, snarling, milling mob, I carved a steak from the shoulder with my keen Doravian dagger. Then I made a small cooking fire and grilled my slab of meat. It proved tasty enough, although rather tougher than a gourmet would have relished. But with good teeth and an excellent appetite this bothered me not at all.

      By the time I had finished, and swallowed a draught from a water fern, my hairy retainers had all gorged themselves.

      I arose and called them together. They squatted expectantly around me in a semicircle. “You, Griff,” I said. “Bring me that shiny club which sticks in the jaw of the silticum.”

      After he had brought me the sword of the Doravian boatman, I continued, “You have asked that judging be done before we fight. I have no time for judging now, so I am going to let you do it. This shiny club will be your token of authority, by which you will do judging in my name. Go now, taking the shes with you, back to the caves. And be ware that your decisions are just ones, for I will hear of it, and will come and slay you with my magic if they are not.”

      “But Rogo,” he protested, “I would like to go and fight the food-men with your others.”

      “You will do as you are bidden without further question. Throw away your old club and take this shiny one which slays with its point as well as its edges.”

      Silently, and rather sullenly, he removed his club from his belt string and tossed it away. Then he took the sword and lumbered away through the forest, followed by the females.

      As soon as they had departed I called the others together and started off on the trail of Prince Gadrimel. But darkness overtook us before we had gone more than five miles, and we were forced to take to the trees to avoid the depredations of the night-roving carnivora.

      Propped in a high leaf crown that swayed with each passing breeze I didn’t get much sleep during that noisy night, oppressed by my constant fear for Loralie in the clutches of her unscrupulous cousin.

      It was with a sigh of relief that I greeted the dawn and made my way to the ground. Impatient to be off, I stopped only for a drink of water, then started down the well-marked trail with my small but formidable company. The spoor of Loralie’s abductors continued to follow the winding course of the River of Life for about six miles to the remains of a large camp which had been completely surrounded by watch fires. Most of these were still smoldering as we came up.

      Of the people of Prince Gadrimel we saw no sign, save tracks leading to the river where there were indentations made by the prows of small craft.

      I led my ape-men at a trot along the flat, sandy beach for miles. The river bank gradually grew more rugged, and at last we climbed to a rocky eminence commanding a view of both sea and river.

      Anchored not more than an eighth of a mile off this point, and rocking in the gently rolling swell, I saw the five ships of Prince Gadrimel. Paddling swiftly toward them from the river mouth were a score of small boats, in the foremost of which were two scarlet-clad figures which I knew must be Gadrimel and Loralie.

      Helplessly I watched while his henchmen bundled the princess aboard the flagship, boats were drawn up to their places on the decks, sails were hoisted, and anchors weighed.

      So, with straining eyes, a great lump in my throat and a weight in my heart, I saw Gadrimel triumphantly sail away over the bounding, blue-gray Ropok with the only woman I have ever loved.

      As I stood there, absent-mindedly watching my subjects scurry through the forest in search of game, I pondered my predicament. The only thing left for me to do, I reasoned, was to follow the coast northward as Loralie and I had planned to do. In order to reach Olba I would pass through Adonijar, but single- handed I could do nothing against an entire nation.

      Once in Olba I felt that I could persuade the Torrogo to let his supposed son have an air fleet for the purpose of avenging the attempted murder of the Crown Prince, and with this I could quickly persuade the ruler of Adonijar to give up the princess.

      I dreamed thus futilely until a great splash of rain struck me in the face, followed by the patter of many more on the leaves around me. Brought to a sudden realization of my surroundings, I noticed that the gentle wash of the waves against the shore had changed to the booming roar of huge breakers, that the trees were bending before a considerable breeze, and that despite the fact that the day was not yet spent it was growing steadily darker.

      A terrific peal of thunder, followed by a vivid flash of lightning, made every cave-ape drop the bone he was gnawing and look toward me as if for protection or guidance.

      “Zog makes magic in the heavens, Rogo,” said Borg, quaking with fear. “Zog is angry. Let us hide until he goes away. I noticed a great cave beneath the next cliff when I was hunting.”

      Glancing around at the other beast-men, I saw that Borg was not the only one who had been frightened by the peal of thunder. Every cave-ape was shivering in abject terror.

      “Lead the way to the cave, Borg,” I said. “I do not fear Zog, but there is much