Katon
A painful sensation in one shoulder brought full consciousness to Tharn, and opening his eyes he stared blankly up into the face of a Sepharian warrior. Noticing Tharn was awake, the man lowered the spear point with which he had been prodding the captive.
"So—you are alive, after all!" exclaimed the Sepharian. "You have a hard head, my savage friend; I thought they had beaten it in for you, last night."
The speaker's thin sharp face reminded the cave-man of Toa, the hawk. Tharn's lips curled with open contempt.
"The arms of your men are weak," he said mockingly. "It took many of them to overcome me."
An angry red came into the man's cheeks. "They meant to take you alive," he snapped. "Try to escape and you will find a quick death." He turned on his heel and strode away.
Tharn sat up and glanced about. It was evident he was in some subterranean spot; the air was cool and slightly damp, and there was that musty odor found only beneath the earth's surface. High up in one wall he made out an immense grating of some sort outlined against an early morning sky.
As the light grew stronger he saw the room to be tremendous. He noticed now that he was not alone; near the far wall lay a full score of sleeping men—many of them apparently cave-men like himself.
The sound of feet to his left attracted Tharn. He saw several men enter the cell through the room's single door, and place huge platters of meat on the several long tables near one wall. Noticing the sleeping men were rousing and taking stools about those tables, Tharn got to his feet and, ignoring their curious stares, joined them there.
Lowering his weight onto one of the three-legged stools, Tharn dipped into one of the great platters a neighbor had pushed toward him. As he ate, he looked about at the faces of his fellow prisoners.
They were an ill-assorted lot, most of them Sepharians, the balance men of his own kind. The former, without exception, seemed to carry themselves with the swaggering truculence of the true adventurer; the latter seemed sullen and aloof, like caged animals.
Among them all, however, was one who stood out in vivid contrast. Seated almost directly across from Tharn was a tall muscular Sepharian with a strong face and a pair of the bluest eyes Tharn had ever seen. His well-proportioned body, tanned almost to blackness, had much of the regal bearing that graced the cave-man's own.
Catching Tharn's eye, the stranger smiled suddenly, and unconsciously Tharn smiled in return. Thus encouraged, the Sepharian leaned forward and said:
"How did they happen to catch you?"
Those were the first actually friendly words Tharn had heard since the night he had left his own caves. For a moment he hesitated to answer, uncertain of the motive behind the other's interest.
"I was hunting for someone," he said finally.
The blue eyes widened a bit. "You mean they found you in Sephar?"
"If, by Sephar, you mean the strange caves inside the high cliff—yes."
The Sepharian shook his head in honest tribute. "But why did you come here? You must have known they would get you sooner or later."
"They have my mate here," Tharn explained briefly. "I came to get her."
"And now they have you both!"
Tharn's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "They will not keep us," he said simply.
The other smiled a little. "I am Katon," he said, after a slight pause. "Who are you?"
Tharn told him, and the conversation lapsed for a while.
Meanwhile, a guard had entered the great room and approached Vulcar, the one who had reminded Tharn of Toa, the hawk. The two men spoke together for a few moments, then the captain of the guards came up behind Tharn and dropped a hand roughly on the cave-man's shoulder.
Tharn, in the midst of strangers, the memory of last night's battle still fresh in his mind, acted instinctively.
Bounding from his stool, he whirled on the startled Vulcar. Before the stupefied captain could lift a hand in defense, he found himself flat on his back, two knees pinning his shoulders to the floor, while iron fingers were shutting off his breath.
The entire body of prisoners and attendants was thrown into confusion. One of the guards leaped to the side of the cave-man and would have driven a spear into his back had not Katon vaulted the table and shoved him sprawling.
As though by signal, the prisoners threw themselves upon the handful of guards, and the room became a seething inferno of flailing arms and threshing legs, the four walls echoing muffled shouts, screams, curses.
Unmindful of the tumult about him, Katon knelt beside Tharn and the now weakly struggling Vulcar. Grasping the Cro-Magnon's steel-thewed wrists, he tugged with all his more than ordinary strength to loosen the awful grip.
"Stop it, Tharn!" he panted. "Let go! If he dies they will kill you!"
Slowly the red mist of anger faded as Katon's words reached the savage brain; and slowly, almost regretfully, Tharn obeyed.
As he rose from the floor and stepped back, a large group of guards broke into the room and joined the fight between attendants and prisoners. With lusty swings of spear shafts the newcomers beat the battling captives into a semblance of order against one wall.
As for Vulcar—he lay where Tharn had left him, tortured lungs sucking air in great gulps as the livid hue of his face gradually faded. Vulcar had been very near to death.
Finally he got shakily to his feet, assisted by two of his men. For a full minute he could not speak as he swayed there, rubbing at the angry red welts where Tharn's merciless fingers had closed.
"Seize that madman!" he croaked at last; "seize and tie him! A few touches of the whip will teach him how to act!"
Before the hesitant warriors could act, Katon had stepped into the breach.
"Wait, Vulcar," he pleaded. "Do not have him whipped. The man is a barbarian; he believed you had attacked him, and acted so. Had he stopped to think, he would not have dared raise a hand against the mightiest fighter in all Sephar."
Vulcar was shrewd enough to see that Katon had made it possible for him to save face before the others without chancing another battle. He realized the cave-man would resist an attempt to punish him, and such resistance might inflame the prisoners anew.
"Perhaps you are right, Katon," he admitted reluctantly. "But I shall not be so lenient if it happens again."
Tharn, listening, shrugged indifferently. The incident was closed as far as he was concerned, and Vulcar's thinly veiled threat did not impress him.
"I was about to tell your wild friend," the captain continued, "that Urim has sent word he is to be brought before him at once. Perhaps you had better come along, Katon; you seem to be the only one able to control him."
The three men crossed the huge cell, passed through the guarded doorway and went up a long ramp to the first floor of the palace. There they turned left and moved along a narrow corridor until stopped by a heavy door. Vulcar rapped on this with his knife hilt, it opened from the opposite side and they stepped through.
What met the cave-man's eyes caused him to catch his breath, so unusual did it appear to one who had known nothing more elaborate than simple caves and tangled fastness of jungle and forest.
Here was a great, high-ceilinged room, well-filled with warriors, citizens, slaves—even a sprinkling of women—all grouped about a low wooden frustum, its four sides consisting of steps. On the flattened apex stood a large chair, complete with arm-rests and towering back. Here sat the dignified figure of Urim, ruler of Sephar.
As Tharn and his companions entered, all conversation ceased, every eye turned toward them, and there was a great craning of necks. Some of those present had heard details of the cave-man's capture—details that had lost nothing in the telling. His god-like figure, the rippling sinews beneath a sun-bronzed skin, the primitive loin-cloth of panther hide—all drew forth murmurs of admiration.
As for Tharn—he strode toward the elevated throne with all of Sadu's majestic fearlessness. His level gray eyes bored into those of the man above him, and despite himself, Urim stiffened under their challenge.
When they had halted, Urim spoke, addressing his words to Vulcar.
"Is this the prowler you captured in the slave quarters?" he asked, indicating Tharn.
"It is, O Urim."
The ruler's eyes shifted to the stiffly erect figure of Katon. "Why have you brought this man?" he demanded.
"The prisoner has been troublesome," explained Vulcar. "Since Katon seems able to manage him, I brought him along."
Urim's face lost some of its good nature. "Well, Katon," he said coldly, "I have not forgotten you. Do you find the pits more to your taste than being in charge of the quarry slaves?"
Katon's face was without expression. "Both places have their good points, O Urim," he replied evenly.
Urim scowled. "Let me remind you the Games are not far away. I doubt that you will find many good points there—unless they be fang points!"
He turned back to Tharn. "What were you seeking in Sephar, forest-man?"
"I came here for my mate," Tharn said briefly.
"Your mate?"
"Yes. She was taken by your men three suns ago not far from here."
Urim looked questioningly at Vulcar. "He must mean the girl you brought in a few days ago. I understood the man with her had been slain."
"This is the one," admitted Vulcar. "There is an arrow wound—a fresh one—in his side. When we took the girl, the man with her was struck by an arrow. But we thought he had died from a blow from one of our clubs; it seems impossible that he has survived its force."
For several minutes the ruler of Sephar sat lost in thought, his eyes on the giant Cro-Magnon. This wild man's fate was in his hands, and his alone. As a slave the man would make an excellent guard or warrior—that is, were he tractable, amenable to discipline. Yet something warned him this man would recognize no authority or law beyond his own. Such a slave would only stir up unrest, perhaps open rebellion among his fellows.
And so Urim made his decision.
"Confine him to the pits, Vulcar," he commanded in dismissal. "He is to take part in the Games."
Vulcar led them out. A few moments later the two prisoners were standing within the mammoth dungeon, watching silently as the great door swung shut, hearing the heavy bars fall into place.
Hardly had Tharn left the throne-room when Dylara and Nada entered, accompanied by two guards.
An amazing transformation had been made in the appearance of Majok's daughter. The stained animal skin, that once had afforded an inadequate covering, was gone—replaced by a sleeveless tunic that fell from throat to knees. Her luxuriant curls of deep brown were neatly drawn behind her ears; on her feet were strong sandals of leather.
She hesitated slightly at sight of many strange faces, the serried ranks of motionless warriors about Urim's elevated throne, and, finally, the lordly figure of Urim, himself.
Regaining confidence, she walked slowly through the press of Sepharians as they cleared a pathway to the foot of Urim's chair.
Both women and their escorts halted a few paces short of the steps. Three heads were humbly lowered; Dylara alone gazed artlessly up at the monarch.
Urim hid his smile with a casual hand. Were all cave-people so difficult to impress? This savage girl was a beauty, though; the other women of the room certainly suffered by comparison. By the God! If there were not a hundred suitors at her heels before long he would have missed his guess. Even old Uglor, that confirmed misogynist, was staring at her, his heart in his eyes!
"Is this girl in your care, Nada?" he asked.
"She is, O Urim."
"She understands nothing of our customs?"
"That is true."
"She will be of no use, then," observed Urim, "until she has learned them. I think it would be best to keep her apart from the other slaves until then.
"You, Nada, shall teach her our ways; you are excused from other duties. See that she is taught to give service as a hand-maiden—she is far too beautiful for harder tasks. When she has learned all that you can teach her, let me know and I shall see to it that she has a kind mistress."
Nada could not hide her gratitude. It was clear that Urim had taken an interest in the new slave-girl, and it gladdened the older woman's heart to know Dylara's lot was to be an easy one.
Their interview ended, the two women were about to leave when the door opened to admit Jotan, Tamar and Javan.
Jotan, slightly in the lead, halted directly in front of Dylara. Indifferent to all else, he gazed deeply into the startled eyes of the cave-girl.
Dylara felt her cheeks grow warm under the unmistakable message in the man's eyes. She was conscious, in a peculiar detached way, of a strange, disturbing fascination. Somehow she knew this declaration was coming from deep within the heart of the square-faced young warrior; that the love he professed so silently was honest and complete.
Tamar nudged Javan sharply with an indignant elbow. "Look at him!" he growled under his breath. "There stands our friend—staring at a barbarian wench as though she were a nobleman's daughter! We've got to do something about this, Javan."
There was a dreamy expression in Javan's eyes. "She is beautiful, at that," he whispered. "Maybe we—"
His voice trailed off as one of the escorting guards, impatient at the delay, took Dylara by one arm and urged her on.
The movement brought realization of their surroundings to both the man and the woman. Jotan stepped aside to let them pass, his face expressionless.
Dylara and Nada walked slowly along the corridor between the two guards. The girl seemed subdued, deep in thought. Nada, watching her covertly, said:
"He loves you, Dylara."
The cave-girl nodded. "I know.... Who is he, Nada? I'm certain he's never seen me before. Do men fall in love so quickly?"
Her companion smiled. "They have been known to," she observed drily. "He is Jotan, the son of a nobleman of Ammad. He has been in Sephar only a day or two."
"I like him," Dylara said. "You must tell me more about him."
Nada glanced sharply at the girl. "I know only what is told by palace slaves and guards. Such tales are not always true."
The guards stopped before the door of the room where Dylara had spent the night before. Nada said, "This is where we are to stay until Urim is ready to give you to some woman of the court."
As the door closed behind them, she added: "They will bring us food, shortly. While we eat, I shall tell you all I can about Sephar and Ammad ... and Jotan."