Zamara of Tharkol, accompanied by the captain of her flagship, swung aboard, followed by the giant gladiator, Zantor, captain of the second ship of the Shondakorian contingent, the Xaxar. As the officers met together in the great stateroom, Prince Valkar, as vice-admiral of the expedition, told them the terrible story of the sudden attack and of our disappearance.
Anxious queries flew about the long table―Dr. Abziz racked his memory for every datum he knew concerning the feared and legendary bird-monsters―a furious discussion raged, but few conclusions were reached, or could be reached, where so many important details remained unknown.
My friends, of course, could not even be certain at this time whether or not I still lived. And no one had the slightest information as to where the Zarkoon had come from, nor in which direction they had flown, upon leaving the gore-drenched shambles of the Jalathadar’s bridge.
Valkar held to the position that nothing more could be possibly done until day. Then the galleons of the armada would split to search the surrounding mountains, and where possible, would lower by gig or skiff search-parties to comb the mountain-tops afoot. The small five-man skiffs had been an invention of the Tharkolians, and were so obviously useful that all ships on the expedition had been equipped with them. They consisted of twin pontoons filled with the hydrogen-like gas, five-seated cockpits, stiff, stationary wings, and were driven by propellers powered by foot-pedals on the floor of the cockpits. This would be the first time the skiffs had actually been used, although of course they had been tested in the shipyards of Tharkol.
It was Lukor who chiefly opposed the decision to await the coming of day before attempting to search the peaks. The fiery old sword-master was all for launching a dozen skiffs at once to comb the nearer peaks before another hour was lost. Valkar patiently pointed out that the updrafts and air-currents in these mountains were uncharted, and that nothing was to be gained by endangering the lives of yet more men. At night, with the confusing moonlight, in an unknown country, the use of skiffs would be hazardous in the extreme, and probably fruitless.
As he was, in my absence, the senior commanding officer of the armada, it was his decision which carried the vote. Lukor, fuming, subsided with a sour grumble or two, and left the stateroom in a vile temper, mingled with fears for my safety and for that of young Tomar, for whom he had long since felt an avuncular affection.
The Yathoon chieftain, Koja, who had been my first friend on Callisto, had supported Lukor’s argument. The solemn-eyed, gigantic insect-man felt keenly my loss, and, in his coldly unemotional manner, chafed at the enforced delay. He reached the main deck and joined Lukor as the gallant little sword-master prowled the windy balustrade, grumbling and cursing.
“Blast them all, Koja, the fools won’t listen!” he seethed. “Every hour―every moment―may count! We should cast off in the skiffs now, and hunt down the hiding place of those winged devils! Jandar may need us desperately, the poor fellow! And the lad―what of him? Why, had it not been for that brave boy, we should all have perished horribly, through the treachery of Ulthar, during the expedition against Zanadar!*”
Koja’s huge compound eyes glittered expressionlessly in the many-colored light of the moons of Jupiter.
“I am of similar opinion, friend Lukor,” the gigantic arthropod said solemnly. “To my way of thinking the rescue of Jandar is of at least equal importance to the success of this expedition against the Mind Wizards. If we wait till day, the Zarkoon creatures may well use the margin of time to spirit away our comrade to an unknown lair too far distant, or too cunningly concealed, for the chances of discovery to achieve success. We are now within an hour of the moment in which Jandar and Tomar were carried off; and it seems to me wisest to pursue the bird-warriors now, while the trail, so to speak, is still fresh.”
“Precisely,” said Lukor, gnawing his moustache savagely. “And I am filled with uncomfortable forbodings that Prince Valkar will decide, if the search at dawn is in vain and Jandar is not then rescued, that to further delay the journey to Kuur would be to jeopardize the success of the expedition. Doubtless he will argue, however reluctantly, that the safety of the Three Cities depends on the attack against Kuur, and that the safety of three kingdoms must outweigh the safety of two men, however dear to us. I suppose he will argue in council that to remain here throughout the day, searching for our captured comrades, may risk Kuur’s discovery of our mission, and thus we will lose the benefit of surprise. Curse it all, Koja, but I do despise the tendency of commanders to consider the mission of first importance, and the rescue of lost comrades distinctly secondary!”
Koja manipulated his brow antennae in the characteristically Yathoon equivalent of a shrug.
“I feel certain that Prince Valkar will do everything his sense of duty permits towards effecting the rescue of Jandar and Tomar; but he is a conscientious officer and takes his duties seriously … if he must decide to sail on and leave our friend to his unknown fate, surely it will be with the utmost reluctance.”
“Reluctance be hanged, Koja!” the chivalrous little sword-master snorted. “I have never been able to sympathize with these high-minded principles of devotion to duty above all! To me, my love for my friends comes first and foremost above all other considerations. Curse me, but I’ll warrant you feel the same about it.”
Koja nodded somberly. “Jandar taught me the meaning of friendship, an emotion alien to my kind. That emotion I prize highly, as I do the safety of Jandar, my friend. To rescue him from peril I would willingly imperil my own life, as, I am sure, would you.”
“Agreed, my chitin-clad and loyal-hearted friend! Happily would I consign to destruction a thousand cities, when the life of my dear friend and old comrade in a thousand battles hangs in the balance. Devotion to duty is very high and noble a cause, in the abstract; but my first loyalty must ever be to those few I call my friends! Well, then, having agreed on the matter―what in the name of the Scarlet Moon are we to do about it?”
Koja regarded him solemnly.
“We have both argued in council as eloquently as our poor abilities afford, that all efforts should be immediately expended on an expedition of rescue. Prince Valkar has, however reluctantly, decided against this, and it was his opinion which carried the vote. We have no other recourse, then, but to strive to rescue Jandar on our own.”
The glint of joyous mischief flashed in Lukor’s keen eyes. Reaching up on tiptoe he essayed to give the gaunt, enormous insect-man a hearty slap on the shoulder. Since the arthropods of Callisto lack anything much resembling shoulders, he was forced in lieu to clap Koja on the back.
“A man after my own heart, my chitinous comrade; although you are not exactly a man in the biological sense of the word, the essence of manhood is in your heart! Very well, then, how shall we go about it?”
Their stroll during this exchange of conversation had carried them the length of the midship-deck, and, by a nice coincidence, they now confronted one of the canvas-covered sheds wherein the five-man skiffs were housed. Pausing in their circumambulations before this unguarded structure, an identical gleam flashed into the eyes of both and the same thought was born in their brains at the same time.
An eloquent look was exchanged in wordless silence between the peppery little master-swordsman from Ganatol and the tall, stalk-legged, inhuman Yathoon hordesman from the Great Plains.
“… Dare we, friend Koja?” hissed Lukor conspiratorially.
The solemn-eyed arthropod blinked owlishly upon the tempting structure.
“Dare we not, Lukor? We have no other recourse, if we are to attempt to explore the peaks. Surely it would not be best for us to strive to seize control of the bridge and forcibly divert the Jalathadar from her present course. The skiff, however, is not guarded, but merely tied down. Doubtless we could sling it over the side by means of yonder boom, which was erected for precisely that purpose. We could then cast adrift, and ride the winds down to the mountain-country below … it will, of course, be dangerous … little in life worth the achieving, however, is achieved without some risk…”