"Twang!"
Like a plucked violin the bow sang his single note, polished wood flickered in the light of torches and one of Trakor's captors threw wide his arms and sank into a briefly twitching heap. Before his fellows could grasp the significance of what was taking place three more of their number were down, each with a thin-bodied arrow protruding from his chest or back.
There was a general scrambling as those holding Trakor released him and threw themselves headlong to escape the rain of death. The advancing wave of warriors halted with breathtaking abruptness, those behind the front rank crashing into it. Momentarily freed, Trakor looked wildly about him, as confused as the others.
"Run!" shouted Tharn. "Into the jungle, Trakor!"
The youth heard—and obeyed. As he broke into a run, one of Gerdak's fighting men, either more courageous than his companions or angered beyond reason at losing their prize, scrambled to his feet and lifted his spear for a cast at the flying figure.
Again Tharn's bow twanged and a tufted arrow appeared magically embedded in the spearman's chest. Voicing a piercing shriek he toppled back, spear rolling from his fingers.
Tharn was already among the lower branches of a tree when Trakor came crashing into the jungle. As the boy plowed past, the cave lord reached down with one arm and caught him under the arms, lifting him to the branch beside him before the youngster was fully aware of what was happening.
"Tharn!" It was a gasp of such utter relief that the giant Cro-Magnard smiled.
"I thought I left you safe in a tree," he said.
"I meant to stay there, Tharn," Trakor admitted sheepishly, "but I heard one of them shout to the others that you had been captured and was being held in Gerdak's cave. I thought that because of the darkness I might pass among them without being recognized, reach the chief's cave and in some way set you free."