It required the better part of an hour for the cave lord to hack a supply of meat from Bana's flank and cache it in a high fork of the nearest tree. The blow from a Sepharian war-club had resulted in a nasty concussion and the constant waves of dizziness and nausea made his movements slow and uncertain.
For two full days he lay on a rude platform of branches in that tree, most of the time in semi-stupor. Twice in that time he risked descent for water from the nearby river.
It was not until morning of the third day that he awoke comparatively clear-headed. For a little while he raced through the branches of neighboring trees, testing the extent of his recovery. And when he discovered that, beyond a dull ache in one side of his head, he was himself once more, he ate the remainder of his stock of deer meat and came down to the trail to pick up the two-day-spoor of Dylara's captors.
That those who had struck him down had also taken his intended mate, Tharn never doubted. She—and he!—had been too well ambushed for escape. What her fate would be after capture depended upon the identity of her abductors.
But when Tharn had picked up those traces not obliterated by the movements of jungle denizens during the two days, he was as much in the dark as before. Never in his own considerable experience had he come upon the prints of sandals before this; nor had he known of a tribe who wore coverings on their feet.
He shrugged. After all, who had taken Dylara was beside the point. She had been taken; and he must follow, to rescue her if she were still alive—for vengeance if they had slain her.
By noon of the next day Tharn was drawing himself up to the edge of the tableland at almost the same spot from whence Dylara had her first glimpse of Sephar. And when he rose to his feet and saw the city of stone and its great circular wall, he was no less electrified than the girl had been. He, however, felt no dread at the prospect of entering; indeed, his adventurous blood urged him to waste no time in doing so.
As he raced through the trees toward Sephar, his thoughts were of Dylara. Reason insisted that she still lived—a captive behind that grim stone wall. He knew, now, that his love for her was no temporary madness, but an emotion that would rule his life until death claimed him. Her proud, slender figure with its scanty covering of panther skin rose unbidden before him, and he felt a sudden uncomfortable tightness where ribs and belly met. Love was teaching Tharn of other aches than physical bruises....
It was mid-afternoon when he reached the forest's edge nearest to Sephar. Several hundred yards of level open ground lay between the trees and the mighty wall, which evidently encircled the entire city.