The enemy already within the gates, the Princess of Shondakor chose a reckless expedient and led many of her people forth to the freedom of the open plains, rather than attempt the defense of the city, which would have resulted in a massacre. The class of warrior nobility which followed her into self-imposed exile did not unanimously favor her decision, but they venerated their gorgeous and high-spirited princess, the descendant of a thousand kings, and at length were persuaded as to the truth of the old adage, “he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.”
Now bereft of their princess, the leadership of the Ku Thad had devolved upon the stout shoulders of Lord Yarrak, Darloona’s uncle. He was a tall, stately, martial leader with a natural ability for command. When Lukor, Koja, and I were first brought before him and he learned of the various assistances we had rendered to his niece and queen, he welcomed us with great honor and hospitality. And thus for weeks we had lived with the Ku Thad warriors amid the trackless jungles of the Grand Kumala.
These jungles covered literally thousands of square miles and in their density and tracklessness afforded the Shondakorians the most perfect hiding place imaginable. The Black Legion warriors had never pursued the exiled nobles, not caring what became of them so long as they presented no menace.
And indeed they did not. Although the Ku Thad were stalwart and courageous fighting men, and although they hungered to free their captive nation from their bandit overlords, they were too few in number to offer the Chac Yuul a challenge. The Shondakorians totaled no more than two or three thousand, and the Black Legion could summon to arms three times their number. Also, the walls of the city were monumental, and their girth immense. So huge a metropolis was Shondakor that it would take an army of no less than ten thousand warriors to effectively lay siege and block all gates and exits. The irony of our situation lay in this trick of fate, that it had been the ancestors of the Ku Thad who had, with infinite labor and over scores of years, raised those strong walls which now formed an impassable barrier to their own descendants.
Night after night around the council fires we discussed the ways and means whereby we might successfully wrest Shondakor from her conquerors. The great many-colored moons of Thanator gazed down on our fruitless arguments and vain discussions, and the problem remained unsolved when the vaporous golden skies paled with the sudden flare of the Thanatorian dawn.
Overwhelming force of arms might have breached the walls, but our numbers were insufficient.
A surprise attack might well gain us entry through one of the less well-guarded gates, but our very smallness of number made it hard to see how we could manage to overcome so great a force as would then oppose us.
Eventually, I conceived of a desperate plan.
It had one chance in a thousand of success.
I would attempt to enter the gates of Shondakor alone!
Yarrak regarded me with an expression generally reserved for the ravings of a madman.
“Jandar, no one doubts your courage or cunning, but what can one man possibly do against so many?”
“He can do one thing alone, which would be impossible to a number,” I replied. “He can get in.”
“I do not follow your reasoning,” he admitted.
“Simply this. The Black Legion guards would hardly permit two thousand armed warriors to enter the gates without a pitched battle. But one man will enter easily and without opposition. Because they will feel the same as you―what can one man do against them?”
My old friend, Lukor the Swordmaster, instantly realized the truth of my observation.
“And, once within, you will have considerable freedom and an opportunity, at least, to see what can be done towards freeing the Princess!” he suggested.
“Even so,” I nodded.
Lord Yarrak considered the matter in silence. “But why should they admit you at all?” he asked at length.
I shrugged. “Why not? I am not of the Ku Thad race, as my tan skin, yellow hair, and blue eyes freely attest. A Ku Thad seeking entry would arouse suspicions, but I will not. I will present myself in disguise as a wandering mercenary seeking entry into their ranks. The Chac Yuul are not a race, a nation, or a clan, but a free association of fighting men from every corner of Thanator, brought together through a common desire for loot. A solitary warrior should have no great difficulty in gaining access to their host”
Yarrak smiled, his troubled face clearing.
“I must confess myself reluctantly persuaded to the strength of your plan,” he said, “although I still question whether one man behind the city walls can aid our plans in any way.”
“One agent within the walls can do more than no agent within the walls, my lord,” Lukor pointedly observed.
Yarrak laughed and admitted the truth of that statement.
“I shall wear the simple leather tunic of a common warrior,” I said, “and bear unmarked steel. The most they can do is turn me away. But if they do not, then I have a fighting chance of winning a place in their army, and, in time, perhaps of affording the Princess some opportunity of escape.”
“You will need a covering story, to account for yourself,” mused Lord Yarrak, falling in with my plan. “You could say you had been a mercenary swordsman m the service of Soraba, which is a city of the north. The Chac Yuul have not been in the north for ten years, so you will run no danger of having the details of your account brought into question.”
“My lord, Jandar may find some difficulty because of his unusual coloring,” spoke up wise old Zastro, a sage elder of the Ku Thad who had been listening to our discussion.
“I shall tell them simply that I am a traveler from a far distant land,” I said, “which is nothing more than the truth.”
They smiled at this, for of course they knew my story, and my remark, although true, was something of an understatement. For my homeland was three hundred and eighty-seven million, nine hundred and thirty thousand miles away―“far distant” indeed!
“I do not think you should go into this danger alone, Jandar,” said Koja in his solemn way. The gallant old Swordmaster nodded in vigorous assent.
“I could not agree with friend Koja more,” he said. “Together, the two of us―”
“The three of us―” added Koja.
“Thanks, but I think one man has a better chance of getting in, than three,” I said firmly.
“But―”
“I am young enough, and a fair-enough swordsman, to pass myself off as a landless, penniless mercenary,” I pointed out. “But you, Lukor, area master in the art of fence, and a most distinguished gentleman in your appearance, taste, and manner. It would be hard going to convince the suspicious Chac Yuul that any gentleman of your evident sophistication and sense of honor is a wandering sell-sword rogue. And, Koja, when have the noble chieftains of the Yathoon clans enlisted with the Black Legion bandits? No, friends, I thank you. But this adventure is mine alone.”
There were several further arguments to be thrashed out, but in the end it was decided to my satisfaction. I would leave at dawn.
CHAPTER TWO
TO THE GATES Of SHONDAKOR
The dawns of Callisto―or Thanator, as I should accustom myself to thinking of this jungle world―are a unique experience. They have to be seen to be believed.