CHAPTER XII
An Enemy's Life
It mattered little to Ramey Winters that the smallest of the followers of Ravana towered a good head and shoulders above himself. Given a moment's time to prepare for trouble, an opportunity to set himself, he would have gladly matched his wits and strength against that of his captors. If brute power alone were to be considered, neither he nor any Earthman could stand against the giant Videlians. But he had in his belt a Twentieth Century weapon that was, indeed, as the gangsters of Ramey's era had termed it, an "equalizer"....
But he did not draw his automatic. The attack was too sudden and too unexpected ... and by the time he felt hard Videlian hands upon him he did not need the mutely warning glance of Sheng-ti to remind him that this was one time the adage about discretion being the better part of valor well applied.
Meekly he permitted himself to be hauled forward to the quai-side, where waited one apparently captain of those who were shipping the new slaves to Lanka. This one scowled as he eyed the new captives.
"Well," he roared in a voice of thunder, "and how did you two get away?"
It was Sheng-ti who answered, smoothly, calmly, ingratiatingly. "We did not 'get away,' my Lord. We have but just arrived. My friend and I are voyagers from distant Penang, come to seek employment in the establishment of the mighty Lord Ravana, whose fame has reached our ears."
"Employment!" The overseer stared at him blankly for a second. Then his laughter burst in a great guffaw. "You'll find employment, all right! Thalakka—chain these fools with the others!"
The one to whom he spoke, himself an officer of rank to judge by his trappings, said, "Chain them, Seshana?"
"Those were my orders."
"Forgive me, sir, but—do you think that is necessary in this case? These men are not captive slave, being taken to Lanka against their will. They came here of their own volition ... freely offered their services." Then, hastily, as his superior's brow darkened: "I am returning to the island on the next boat myself, sir. If you wish, I shall see that they are transported thither and turned over to whomever judges such cases."
Seshana said mockingly, "I had not dreamed there was such tenderness within your bosom, Captain Thalakka. Be careful your noble sentiments do not someday send you to languish in the dungeons with that chicken-hearted fool, Vibhishana. But—" He shrugged—"I suppose there's no harm in it. Very well, then. Take them away!"
And he went back to his work with lash and cry as the friendly Videlian led Ramey and Sheng-ti to a boat just preparing to pull out from the wharf. A boatswain cried the command, a dozen oars spidered the surface of the blue water, and the great, awkward transport ferry set forth across the lake. Thus, free men still, but under sufferance only, Ramey and his friend embarked for the island fortress of Ravana.
It was on the journey across the lagoon that Ramey realized for the first time just how great was the problem of defeating the lord Ravana.
His island citadel lay a good four miles from the shore. Four miles which, in an era that knew no motorboats, no sea-sleds, must necessarily be laboriously traversed in open skiffs propelled by man-power. Even had Ravana not the ammunition wherewith to charge the Bow of Rudra, his archers would find the occupants of invading craft easy prey. And if he had, by now, charged the Bow—
In any event, invasion seemed a complete impossibility. For even should a score, a hundred boatloads of fighters gain the shores of Lanka, the problem still confronted them of gaining entrance to the fortress itself. And as the boat in which they were passengers drew nearer, Ramey saw the high, gray walls of the citadel, the buttressed stanchions lined with watchful warriors, the mighty gates and ramparts, and he knew that never in this world could the ape-soldiers of Sugriva successfully storm this salient.
The single hope remained that he and Sheng-ti could somehow get back the Bow from Ravana. Then battle might not be necessary. Before the threat of its use, the giant leader would be forced to capitulate.
As Ramey pondered thus, Sheng-ti was skillfully prodding the friendly Videlian captain for information that might be of some value. Admiringly he commented on the greatness of the fort toward which they oared. The Martian was pleased.
"It is the mightiest fortress on this strange planet," he boasted pridefully. "Oh, not so strong, perhaps as some on our lovely Videlia. But strong enough to withstand the attack of any enemy here. Moreover—" He leaned forward confidentially—"Our lord Ravana has just returned from Chitrakuta with a new and mighty weapon which assures our lasting invulnerability. A magic bow with the power to destroy anything which offends its archer!"
Ramey struggled to mask the eagerness in his eyes, drew an expression of incredulity to his lips.
"A magic bow?" he repeated. "How—how know you it is magic? Have you seen it shoot?"
"No-o-o," answered the garrulous Videlian reluctantly. "Not as yet. Our Lord has not seen fit to demonstrate its powers yet. There are certain spells he must cast upon it yet, I understand. But we know its power. Our spies have long time told us—"
Ramey heaved an inward sigh of relief. Then so far the Martian overlord had not yet found the time, or the ammunition to feed the Bow's lethal chamber. But his moment of relief passed as the Videlian continued.
"Not only that, but we have won to our cause even the very gods of this planet! Know you who returned this morn to Lanka with the lord Ravana? An Earth goddess!"
"Sheila!" cried Ramey.
But fortunately the Videlian misinterpreted his cry. He smiled serenely. "Ah, then she is a goddess of your race?"
Ramey said slowly, "She is ... of my race ... yes. And where is this goddess now?"
Captain Thalakka smiled slyly. "Where else but in the apartment next to that of Lord Ravana? They say she and our Lord are to be wed. You hear that, Earthmen? That will convince you that we of Videlia are a superior race, will it not? When your very gods mate with our people?"
It was well he expected no answer, and well he was not looking at Ramey as he spoke. For the young airman's eyes were ablaze with anger, his fists had knotted; he looked very little, at this moment, like the humble laborer he pretended to be. But the trip was almost finished, now, and the boat was drawing awkwardly into a slip before the citadel of Lanka. Wharf, dock and landing-place were aswarm with bustling figures. Slaves disgorged from their vessels now being driven to their quarters, oarsmen readying for a return trip to the mainland, warriors watching the excitement with amused interest ... even courtiers looking down from an overhanging balcony on the busy scene below. Captain Thalakka called an order to the boatswain, the craft wheeled slowly, stirred into its slip.
And as it did so, another boat, sliding from an adjacent dock, swung with the stream and began to edge lazily toward their own. In an instant, Ramey saw the danger of collision. He cried, "Look out, there! Hard a-port—!"
His cry came too late. The second craft nudged into them; not violently, but with turgid insistence. The oarsmen were caught off balance; there came the snap! of splintering wood as oars shattered like matchsticks, a cry of pain as one rower was rammed brutally into the thwarts. Then another cry ... a shrill scream of terror....
Ramey whirled just in time to see Captain Thalakka, who had risen in his place, hurtle out of the boat. Asprawl he hit the water, kicking, flailing frantically.
Ramey's first impulse was to laugh. Captain Thalakka was far from an imposing figure now. Dripping like a rain-drenched rat, he came up spluttering. And then—
Went down again! With a bubbling cry of fear!
The laughter died on Ramey's lips as, glancing about him swiftly, he saw that not a companion of Thalakka's had moved a muscle to help their brother-at-arms! Instead, their faces were as pallid as that of the struggling man ... and every one of them seemed to shrink from doing anything to help.
It took but a word from Sheng-ti to clarify the situation. The single word, "Drowning! He's drowning, Ramey!"
And suddenly Ramey realized that, incredible as it sounded to an Earthman, this was the absolute truth! Thalakka was a Martian, born of a race whose planet had long been well-nigh waterless, a race whose sluggish canals barely supplied sustenance to the few, hardy plants that sucked their moisture. And the Videlians did not know how to swim! Even in a situation like this, where an Earth child could have paddled his way to safety in the twinkling of an eye, Captain Thalakka's life was in deadly peril!
To think, with Ramey Winters, was to act. It barely mattered that Thalakka was of another race, aye, even of another world. In a flash, the young Earthman was on his feet; then, with a splash, he was diving after the submerged body of the Martian.
His hands, groping for a hold, found Thalakka at the same moment the Videlian's frantic clutch found him. Desperate arms wrapped around his neck, engulfing, swaddling him, choking the breath from his lungs. The Martian's weight was like a leaden anchor, dragging him to the bottom. But there came to Ramey memory of lifesaving drill learned in a college. Instinctively his hands did the proper thing.
Right hand so—on Thalakka's left elbow. Left hand thus, on the Martian's right wrist. A twist ... a shrug ... and he was behind the Martian, treading water, holding the other man's right arm in a straining hammerlock, gulping in great life-giving draughts of air.
After that, his task was simple. With the Martian's face cupped in his left hand, he kicked out strongly for the boat. Sheng-ti was at the boat-side to grip his burden, lift him over the thwarts. And seconds later, rescued and rescuer were being put safely ashore, ears dinning under the cascading roars of an excited group of on-lookers.
Then it was that Captain Thalakka turned to Winters, held forth his hand in a gesture that meant one thing on any world.
"I thank you, man of Earth," he said gratefully. "I owe my life to you. And Thalakka, Captain of the Torthian Guard, will not forget."
"That's all right, chum," grinned Ramey. "A little swim goes good on a hot day like this. But I'd take a few lessons in the Australian crawl, if I were you."
He reached up to brush his dripping hair from his forehead. And as he did so, on his fingers he saw that which brought a sudden spasm of fear to his heart. For the fingers which had brushed his forehead were—yellow-brown! The dye! The dye with which he had been painted had streaked and run!
Even as the knowledge struck him, came corroboration in a cry from the overhanging balcony above his head. A call in tones that Ramey Winters recognized all too well, the vibrant, bell-like voice of the Lady Rakshasi.
"Warriors! Seize that man! Seize him and guard him well! He is a spy from the camp of our enemy, Sugriva!"