Suddenly Tharn's legs were buckled by the combined thrust of three pairs of arms. As he fell backward, a club dealt his head a frightful blow; a great burst of fire seemed to sear his eyes—then blackness came as consciousness left him.
The sounds of struggling bodies, punctuated with screams of rage and anguish, awakened Dylara with a start. For a second she was uncertain from whence the bedlam came; then she leaped from the bed and ran to the closed door.
From the noise that reached her, she judged some wild beast had been trapped in the corridor outside; surely no human throat could have formed the fearsome snarls and growls coming to her ears.
Soon she caught the sound of a blow, heavier than the others, followed by deep silence, broken only by labored breathing of many men.
What could it have meant? Had a slave—perhaps one of her own race—attempted an escape? Or had some great animal invaded this lair of man while searching for food?
The thought never came to her that it might have been Tharn surprised outside her door. So positive was she that the cave-man had died beneath arrow and club, that she did not dream she had been on the verge of rescue.
It was from her door that Tharn had been lifting the bar when attacked.