In a flash the entire mystery was revealed. The image was hollow and a simple system of weights and counterweights enabled whoever sat within to move the idol’s arms up and down through slots and grooves. Doubtless this was the secret of Ool’s authority over the Black Legion―he struck at them through their superstitious terrors of the unknown.
I learned later that Koja and Lukor had lurked in concealment, awaiting my return, until the sounds of the uproar caused by my unmasking alerted them to peril. They had hurried out to a new position of concealment behind the idol, and by .accident had touched the secret spring that opened the hidden door in the idol’s back. The discovery had offered them a more powerful method of assisting us than merely adding their swords to our own. But now the imposture was over, and half a hundred warriors were charging up the stairs to pull us down. I thought swiftly. If the massive stone idol were hollow instead of solid, then it was not as heavy and immobile as it looked―
“Here―with me!” I said curtly, and I set my shoulder against the back of the idol and―heaved!
Valkar, Koja, and Lukor grasped my plan instantly, and lent their strength to my own while Darloona stood, hands pressed to her heart in an agony of suspense.
Would our desperate scheme work? There was no time to think of an alternate. I clenched my jaw and threw the full weight of back, arms, and shoulders into one last terrific effort.
And Hoom―moved.
The idol shuddered, slid forward on its dais with a grating of stone against stone, struck the horns of the altar, and toppled over!
Men were crushed beneath its ponderous weight, for even though Hoom was hollow, still he was fashioned of massive stone. The monstrous idol came sliding and crashing down the steps, spilling men to either side, squeaking and crunching over the buckling stair. Then it crashed full length and went rolling down the steps like some colossal juggernaut of destruction. The multiple stone arms broke away; fragments of stone went flying to every side; I saw one mammoth stone hand spin away and smash a fleeing warrior to bloody ruin, for all the world as a man might crush a fly with the palm of his band. Dozens were crushed to death; scores were maimed or injured.
Midway down the stair, Hoom struck an obstruction and shattered. His grinning head cracked and broke off and went skipping horribly down the steps, straight for the place where Arkola stood, his strong face frozen in a mask of incredulous horror.
The head smashed full into him and skidded on, leaving him a broken, dying thing.
Thus died Arkola the Usurper.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE CONQUEST OF SHONDAKOR
We saw no more of Hoom’s murderous fall, for we seized the opportunity afforded by his juggernaut-like passage down the stone stair to duck into the secret panel from which Valkar had sprung.
I seized Darloona’s arm and thrust her ahead of me, with Valkar going before and Koja and Lukor at my heels. We ran through dark passageways and it seemed, from the uproar, that the entire palace was filled with the clamor of battle. Had the Ku Thad struck at last? We came out onto a broad and level terrace overlooking the city and gazed with delight upon what we saw.
Down every street came yelling mobs of Shondakorians, brandishing clubs, sticks, tools―whatever they could lay their hands on.
Before them, scattered units of the Black Legion retreated in confusion. And in a moment we saw the reason why―for there, in the forefront of the howling mobs, battled the warrior nobles of the Ku Thad with mighty Yarrak in the fore, his beard blowing on the wind, his great sword catching dayfire as it rose and fell tirelessly, smashing down warrior after warrior of the Chac Yuul.
In truth, the Ku Thad had come at the best possible moment, and half the city was theirs!
I laughed, weeping with delight, shaking Valkar’s shoulder, yelling and pointing. Darloona’s eyes shone with fierce, queenly pride and her lips trembled. Koja and Lukor recognized the bold warrior lords of the
Golden People and shouted with joy and triumph.
But there was much fighting to do before the city was truly ours, for the Black Legion, although taken by surprise, still vastly outnumbered Darloona’s warriors, and although the populace of the city had recognized Lord Yarrak and had risen in arms to join the battle for their beloved princess, they were poorly armed and could not stand up to Arkola’s trained and disciplined troops. Even as we watched, the progress of the loyalists slowed to a crawl as Chac Yuul units sped to reinforce their sagging lines.
Then the inexplicable intervened.
A dense black shadow fell over the embattled streets below and before any could look up in surprise a deafening explosion and a blinding flash of flame erupted in the very midst of the thickly packed Chac Yuul warriors.
Another explosion―and another! We stared up to see the skies filled with fantastic flying vessels which had appeared over the embattled city as if by magic.
It was the Sky Pirates of Zanadar, and they had launched their long-impending attack against the Black Legion at last!
The ungainly flying contraptions of the City in the Clouds were like great wooden galleons, made fantastical with carven poop, fluttering banners, ornamental balustrades. They hung aloft on immense, slowly beating wings, buoyed up against the pull of gravity by the powerful lifting force of the mysterious gas wherewith their hollow double hulls were suffused.
To the eye of the uninitiated, the sky ships of Zanadar were a thrilling and unbelievable sight, a fleet of enormous galleons that rode the golden vapors of Thanator’s skies as the galleons of another world might ride the blue waves of the sea. But Lukor, Koja, and I had labored at the wheels of similar vessels but months before, and we knew the ingenious system of weights and pulleys that manipulated those vast ungainly wings, and the unique structure of the flying galleons which were made of compressed paper instead of wood, and thus weighed only a fraction of what their ocean-going counterparts on another world would have. Still and all, they were an incredible achievement, and had it not been for the rapacious greed and cruelty of the Sky Pirates, who used their aerial armada to prey off the merchant caravans of weaker peoples, I could have applauded their amazing skills with undimmed enthusiasm.
Nothing on my world had ever equaled the fantastic achievement of the Zanadarians, although that mighty genius of the Renaissance, the immortal Leonardo da Vinci, had sketched out plans for just such wing-powered ornithopters in his secret notebooks. And had he had access to the powerful lifting gas wherewith the Zanadarians nullified the weight of their flying ships, and had he also possessed the secret of the strong, molded, and laminated paper construction, the skies of old Earth might well have seen such a flying navy as this, half a thousand years before the triumph at Kitty Hawk.
Never before had I seen the ornithopters of Zanadar actually engaged in battle; now I saw the immense tactical advantage the fantastic flying galleons of the Sky Pirates possessed over land armies, and a qualm went over me. Unless some unexpected disaster intervened to demolish the imperial ambitions of Prince Thuton of Zanadar, his aerial navy could conquer all of Thanator and subjugate her peoples with ease.
Indeed, the Sky Pirates of Zanadar formed, if anything, a far greater menace to the peaceful nations of this jungle world than did the Mind Wizards of Kuur, who were few in number and who lacked military might.