CHAPTER XVIII
Stalemate
Many sensations unfamiliar to a man whose work was purely a man's work had Ramey Winters experienced in regard to Sheila Aiken. From that hour long ago when she had dragged him from the wreckage of his burning Curtis on the plain beside Angkor Vat, he had admired her. Then, beneath the mellow moon of Chitrakuta, he had learned to love her. Now as they fled, side by side, through the avenues of Lanka, he discovered that admiration and love were not the only emotions she roused within him. There was another and stranger bond between them—a bond of fellowship! Sheila Aiken was no soft, comfortable creature to be fondled and amused. No clinging-vine, demanding lavish attention. She was a man's woman—a fighting man's woman—giving as well as receiving, daring the same risks that confronted her mate. Ready as he to fight—and if need be, to die—for the cause they had made their own.
And realizing this, noting the cool, earnest haste with which she directed their passage out of danger, seeing in her white hand the automatic she had taken from the now helpless Lake O'Brien, Ramey Winters felt surging through him a sharp, bright glory that this woman should be his!
He knew, now, that his final doubt had been swept away. Freely, when this travail was ended, he could ask Sheila Aiken to share life's future with him. For whatever that future might hold in store, he knew she would be a strong and steadfast companion.
These were but instincts, scarcely thoughts, racing through his brain as they hurried down corridors of escape toward that section of Lanka which—if the gods were kind—their friends still held. This was neither the time nor the place to speak of such things. Strength must be husbanded, breath saved, for any danger which might arise. Such as—
Such as this! The sound of footsteps in a passageway crossing at right angles before them. Videlian guards, mayhap. Or worse still, a detachment of the fighting force!
Again, as several times before, Ramey motioned the girl to silence, forced her and the quiescent Lake to a spot of concealment until this new threat should pass. He sought a place wherefrom he might view those who passed. There was no way of knowing, in this crisis, what fragment of information might prove of later value. It was wise to learn any and all details of the Videlian strength, location of troops, designs....
Thus he lifted his head cautiously from behind the tremendous vase behind which they crouched as the footsteps drew nearer. And thus it was he saw that which broke a cry of gladness from his lips.
"Tauthus!"
The Copt chieftain pivoted. He marched not at the head of an Earthling party, but beside Kohrisan and before a group of the ape-human's warriors.
"Lord Ramaíya! You have found the Lady Sheilacita? And—the Bow?"
Ramey shook his head. "Ravana escaped with it, and with his life. But it is not charged. Nor will it be very soon; that much we have learned."
The monkey-captain moved forward querulously. It was not easy to detect emotion on his simian features, but a note of apprehension was in his voice.
"And the gay one, Lakshmana? He is wounded?"
"Blinded," said Ramey succinctly. "He looked into the Bow's discharging gorge. But—this is not all that remains of our land-force?" He looked with sudden fear on the handful of men led by his two comrades.
Kohrisan shook his head. "Nay, my Lord. We are but a scouting party. Lord Vibhishana and Thalakka have pressed Ravana's hordes back to the vital wharves. Soon these will be ours, and our reserves can safely land."
"I'm going with you," decided Ramey swiftly. "Someone must take Lake and Sheila back to Vibhishana, though. One of your men will show them the way, Kohrisan?"
"I will do so myself, my Lord. With Tauthus and thyself in command, my company is well led. And there is much information I can bear to the others."
"Good! But have a care, my Captain. Ravana's men are spread somewhere between you and our main force. You run a gauntlet of danger."
Kohrisan said staunchly, "I shall be watchful, Lord Ramaíya. We of the 'new men' know how to face danger."
Ramey Winters could never have dreamed—what man could?—that one day his hand should press the hairy shoulder of a talking ape in firm companionship. But that is what he did now. And he said, "New men, indeed, are you and your comrades, Captain. And as worthy of the name as any."
Plainly, the move was not to Sheila's liking. But she was too good a soldier to demur. And it was evident that Lake must be taken to a place of safety. So she turned with Kohrisan; they disappeared, and Ramey pressed on with Tauthus and the ape-warriors.
As they marched, Tauthus pointed out the purpose of their move.
"Our forces have rolled back Ravana's men at every point so far," he said. "We hold the northern chambers of the citadel and all levels below the fourth. Their heaviest concentration, though, is in the southern sector of the isle. This we cannot storm until our reinforcements land. Our boats cannot dock until the wharves are ours. Therefore the wharves must be taken."
"And our fleet?" queried Ramey. "How close does it lie to Lanka's shores?"
But Tauthus answered that question in the easiest of fashions—by pointing. For they had come to the end of the corridor, and stepped through a gateway out onto a balcony. With a start, Ramey realized where they were. On that same ledge from which the Lady Rakshasi had seen and exposed him!
Scarce thirty feet below them lay the wharves. And beyond these, bobbing flakes of black against the sun-silver surface of the lake, thick as skating-bugs on a stagnant bog, hovered the skiffs and rafts which bore the bulk of Sugriva's army.
Studying the salient, Ramey saw with dread despair the insurmountable difficulties his allies had to overcome. From the water, the wharves were invulnerable. Defenseless soldiers creeping into land on slow-moving skiffs would be scythed down mercilessly by the bows of the enemy. Nor was there any safe approach to the walled court wherein huddled the dock's defenders. Two high and sturdy walls stretched from the citadel itself down across the beach to the quais. Behind these ramparts a handful of men could withstand an army forever. And the Videlians numbered no mean handful. They swarmed the walls darkly. And at their beck and call, should they find need of additional hands to do their bidding, were the slaves. Two full pens of Earth's natives, locked like cattle in runways adjoining the courtyard.
Ramey said, "There's only one place to establish an offensive against the wharves—and that is from our present vantage-point. But it would be suicidal for us to try it. Maybe if we went back, gathered a stronger force—"
An astonished rumble from the throat of his comrade stopped him.
"Now, by my faith—!" swore Tauthus of Cush.
"What is it?"
"That captain. Look at him! Look closely!"
A small detachment, perhaps a dozen Videlians, had just marched from the interior of the citadel to join the besieged force. Neatly, swiftly, precisely, they swept across the courtyard. None rose to question them. The defenders had other things to think of, for from the southern end of the isle Vibhishana's attackers maintained a steady barrage of bowfire.
Ramey stared at the squad leader, eyes widening.
"It—it's Thalakka! But why—?"
"Traitor!" growled Tauthus deep in his throat. "I knew we should never place faith in a cursed Videlian. But Tauthus of Cush knows how to deal with traitors!" His hand flashed to his shoulder, he drew an arrow from his quiver, set it to bowstring, aimed....
"Wait!" Ramey's hand tensed about the Copt's arm. "This is no treachery but a most courageous deed. See! At the slave-pens—"
For suddenly the intention of Captain Thalakka was clear. Full across the courtyard had he and his men marched unchallenged ... past posts they might have taken ... and up to the gates of the slave-pens. And now the little detachment whirled, formed a tight circle before the gates—and a cry rose as Thalakka gripped the sole guardian of those gates, hurled him to the ground, and wrenched the keys from his belt!
In an instant, all was bedlam! Too late the Videlian guards realized what had happened, identified this enemy in their very midst. Men turned from the walls, a hundred bows turned on the tiny knot of venturers. Feathered death spangled the court.
But the key had grated in the lock! And the gates were open. And Thalakka's voice was raising in clarion cry.
"Earthmen! Rise! Freedom awaits the bold—"
His cry ended in midsentence, his mouth formed a round O of astonishment ... a circle from which, suddenly, a flood of crimson gushed. His hands leaped to his breast and tore at a shaft buried there almost to its feathered end ... then he sank to his knees, rolled over, and lay still.
But not in vain had Captain Thalakka died. For at his words a tremendous surge, like the lifting of high sea-waters, swelled through the prison-pens. And scarce had he fallen than a prisoner had whipped the sword from his hands to spring forward. Another ... and another ... and the slaves were plunging through the gates like an unleashed flood.
In vain, now, the arrows of the defenders hurtled into the roaring throng. Where one man fell, there were a dozen to charge forward over his body. This was no trained army, crisp, cool, efficient. This was a mob, a mob of men who had tasted slavery—and were now free to turn on their foes with naked hands and claws.
Like beasts they smashed across the courtyard to the ramparts, crushing beneath them all who strove to stay their passage. Like animals they clambered up the walls, flung the Videlians from their posts down to blood-lusting fellows below who literally ripped the Martian guards into bits.
And—the ramparts fell! Nor did Vibhishana give his enemy time to recuperate from this mortal below. Cheers rose from the loyalist camp, and up the beach stormed the followers of the former regent. Fighting side-by-side with the rebel slaves, they smashed the last, feeble resistance of Ravana's garrison. Then a guidon raised aloft, calling urgent invitation. The host of skating-bugs stirred into motion. And within the space of minutes, the first Gaanelian craft had moored at the docks of Lanka!
Not at all surprisingly, it was Red Barrett—the scrapping old redhead himself—who sprang from the first of the skiffs to dock. Close behind him came Syd O'Brien. The two were met and greeted by Ramey Winters who, with Tauthus, had scorned any slower method of gaining the scene of victory than to clamber headlong and recklessly down the rough walls from the balcony.
Thus, for the first time since ever war's hot flame had breathed over Lanka, met face to face all the captains. In triumphant conclave they gathered, all those who actively led fighting forces. Vibhishana and Tauthus of Cush, Ramey and Red Barrett, Syd O'Brien. Yet was their joy not complete. For there was one of their number fallen—Thalakka. And yet another whose part in the battle was ended.
"It's all right, Syd," repeated Lake O'Brien. "It's all right, I tell you. I—I don't feel any pain. It's just that I can't see."
Syd O'Brien's face was a thunder-cloud of rage. "We will find him, Lake," he promised. "And when we do—" His strong, freckled hands whitened on the butt of his revolver. Here was one from whom the Lord Ravana could expect no grain of mercy should their paths ever cross.
Vibhishana said, "Lord Lakshmana must return to the mainland shore. If anyone can repair his vision, that one is the Lord Sugriva. And it were best the girl return, too."
"Me?" cried Sheila indignantly. "I will not! I—"
"Listen, Miss Sheilacita—" Barrett stopped, grinned embarrassedly. "Golly, listen to that! These guys got me talking thataway now, too! I mean, Miss Sheila—I wish you would go on back and tell Toots I'm okay. She'll kind of be worrying about me, I reckon. Tell her we'll all be coming home as soon as we clean up the rest of this mess."
Ramey said, "Yes, Sheila—please go. Because from now on, I'm afraid this fight isn't going to be very pleasant. Especially—" His eyes were cold—"for His Nibs!"
So Sheila and Lake returned to the mainland. Kohrisan, having completed the rally of his scattered forces, now came to join the conclave. And they took stock of their situation.
"We hold now, my Lords," reported Captain Kohrisan, "all the northern half of Lanka's isle and citadel down to the Sounding Tower which is in the exact middle of the fortress. The wharves which feed to the Chitrakuta mainland are in our hands, too. Ravana still holds the upper levels of the fort, and all the southern sector, as well as the docks which feed to the opposite shore. But these are valueless to him, since the major portion of his fleet was captured by our men."
"Then there's no escape for him," grunted Syd. "We have him bottled up here, eh? Good!"
"But," interposed Vibhishana, "though we continue as the aggressors, he has us as effectively bottled as we him. We dare not leave the island nor relax our vigilance in any of the sectors we hold. He still numbers amongst his followers thousands.
"From now on, it appears to me that the battle must settle into a state of siege. From chamber to chamber, from corridor to corridor, through every room and avenue of Lanka must our forces battle for every new inch of ground."
"And that—" mused Ramey thoughtfully—"is tough going. Suicidal business, as a punk named Adolph in our age is finding out! A deadly stalemate, eh, Lord Vibhishana?"
"I am afraid so, Ramaíya."
Barrett said, "But, lookit here—why can't we just pull stakes off the island entirely? Leave him here to stew in his own gravy, throw a cordon around the lake and make sure he never gets off to pester nobody again—"
Syd O'Brien shook his head.
"That won't do either, Red. Tonlé Sap is too big a lake. Seventy miles long. It would take ten times as many men as we have at our command to maintain a guard about its borders. Sooner or later, Ravana and his soldiers would get away. And, besides—" He glanced at Vibhishana—"there's always the possibility he may succeed in fueling the Bow once more. This time effectively. And if he does, we're licked. Isn't that right?"
"Unhappily," agreed the older man, "it is. No, our effort must be directed toward breaking the deadlock that now exists, somehow rooting him out of his lair."
Ramey said, "This 'Sounding Tower' you spoke of, Kohrisan—what is it?"
"The needle-which-speaks, my Lord."
"The which?"
"Kohrisan," explained Vibhishana, "has given it the name used by the natives. It is really a tower from the top-most chamber of which one can address the entire populace of Lanka in a normal voice, and have his message reach every ear in full, rolling tones. You have seen the talking idols of Chitrakuta?"
"Seen 'em?" chuckled Red. "We was their voice!"
Ramey said, "I understand now. A sort of magnified 'whispering gallery,' eh? But, say—that gives me an idea! Lord Vibhishana, did not Thalakka often say that there were many who would rally to your cause if they knew you had been freed?"
"Aye, even so, Ramaíya."
"And I'll bet a hair," continued Ramey excitedly, "there are plenty of soldiers fighting for Ravana right now who would lay down their arms if they knew who they were being forced to fight! They've been obeying him blindly simply because they don't know what's going on. If we could reach the Sounding Tower—"
"—and tell them the truth—" broke in Vibhishana, "it would shatter the morale of his soldiers. Split them into separate camps. Create rebellion within his very ranks. Aye, Ramaíya, I believe you are right! It is a far stronger likelihood, at any rate, than that we can overwhelm the isle without losing much of our own man-power."
"Then—" cried Ramey, rising eagerly, "why are we sitting here jabbering? There's a better place to talk from. Let's go! No—not all of us. You, my Lord Vibhishana, so the soldiers can hear your voice ... you, Red, and Kohrisan—"
"—and me," added Syd O'Brien. "There's a chance we might meet up with Ravana on the way."