Without further words the two busied themselves about the shed. It was the work of moments to unpeg the canvas, exposing the skiff. Floating in its cradle, it resembled to earthly eyes (had any been there to observe it) nothing so much as an outrigger canoe, curiously fitted with wings.
Koja and Lukor had no difficulty in untying the skiff and conveying it to the rail where they attached it to the boom. Completely weightless due to the store of hydrogen-like gas contained in its double-hull, a child could have conveyed it across the deck with one hand without undue effort. And it was simplicity itself to swing the counter-weighted boom over the side so that the skiff was ready to be launched.
The Jalathadar circled the upthrusting peaks at an altitude in excess of three thousand feet. Cold winds rose from the chasms beneath, buffeting the light skiff from side to side and rattling the boom. Without further ado, Koja and Lukor clambered into the canoelike sky-boat and settled themselves side by side in the first two seats. A curved wind-shield of strong but lightweight glass rose before them, protecting them from the winds. Feeling for the pedals, they quickly familiarized themselves with the workings of the craft.
It was almost as simple as riding a bicycle―although, of course, neither Koja nor Lukor had ever seen a bicycle. The foot-pedals controlled the propellers, which were carved from thin, tough wood and situated in the tail-assembly, directly beneath and to either side of the vertical rudder-fin. The foot-pedals communicated kinetic energy to these twin propellers through long, taut-stretched lines of spider-silk, a light and extremely tough substance as strong as nylon and as light as gut. A system of levers, set in the cockpit panel directly before Lukor’s seat, controlled the wing ailerons and the movable rudder-fin through guy-stays of the same substance. By manipulating these levers the individual piloting the skiff could vary the pitch of the ailerons or flaps on the wings and the rudder assembly in the tail of the craft; thus you could send the weightless skiff rising or falling, curving away to port or to starboard. In effect, the skiff was a miniature model of one of the great galleons; in practice, it was far more maneuverable.
“To the rescue!” crowed Lukor, as excited as a boy about to embark on his first adventure. With a splendid gesture he tripped the lever which released the skiff from the overhanging boom. The skiff coasted unsteadily away, flying parallel to the hull of the Jalathadar for a moment, then, as Lukor recklessly waggled aileron and rudder, the little craft veered away in a giddy half-circle, arching out over the abyss, and descending in a swooping glide more unsettling than any Coney Island roller-coaster could ever have been. Buckled securely in their seats, Lukor and Koja swung as the skiff lurched drunkenly.
In a moment the little craft rightened itself, catching the up-draft. Far above, the vast black shape of the mother ship eclipsed the many-colored splendor of the mighty moons.
Then it dwindled as the skiff arrowed into the abyss … and the adventure was begun!
Chapter 10
Across the Abyss
We fell into something of a glum silence after the jungle maid had made her unsettling announcement. In retrospect, I can see no reason why I had not guessed the cannibalistic habits of the Zarkoon bird-men before. They were hardly above the level of rank savagery, and, resembling monstrous vultures as they did, there was no reason not to suspect them of being man-eaters. Still and all, the news took me by surprise, and it was hardly the sort of news one receives in equanimity, nor was it exactly calculated to put me into a serene state of mind.
Considering what Ylana had told us about the Zarkoon, it became more important than ever that we attempt to escape from the cages as soon as possible. But how do you get out of iron cages suspended above an abyss? And more to the point, what do you do once you have gotten out?
While Tomar queasily contemplated ending his days as chef-d’oeuvre at a Zarkoon dinner-table, I bent my wits to the problems of getting out of here before night fell. At which time, if Ylana of the Jungle Country spoke true, the bird-monsters would wake, doubtless ravenous and anxious for breakfast. Since we were to be that breakfast, we must make our escape now, if possible, and thus put as many korads between ourselves and the hungry Zarkoon as possible before night fell. It was still early morning, so we had, it seemed, plenty of time to make our escape.
How to make it, though―that was the question!
Our two cages were suspended from the roof of the cavern by iron chains, as I have said. It should be easy enough, by rocking the cage back and forth, for Tomar and I to swing near enough to Ylana’s cage to reach through the bars of our own and seize ahold of her cage. Then, with a length of strap unhooked from my girdle, we should be able to bind the two cages together.
Calling over to the jungle maid, I apprised her of what I planned to attempt. Then, instructing the boy to spread his feet widely apart, and doing the same myself, we took hold of the bars and began to swing our bodies back and forth together.
Tomar expressed mystification at my reasons for wishing to do this, which in the interests of saving valuable time I had not bothered to impart to him. Nevertheless the boy complied with my wishes, and before very long we had set our cage swinging ponderously back and forth like the pendulum of some immense clock.
Nearer and nearer our ever-increasing swing brought us to the cage in which the girl was imprisoned. In a few minutes we had come so close to her cage that, on the up-swing, the bars of our cage brushed within inches of her own. Then we began trying to seize and hold onto the bars of the other cage. This proved very difficult to do: either we would bruise our knuckles painfully when the two cages came together, or in snatching out for the bars of the other cage we would disturb the evenness of our pendulum-like swing, which meant we had to start all over again.
After about a half-hour of trial and failure, we did manage to catch ahold of―and to retain our grasp upon―the cage in which the girl was imprisoned. While I held the two cages together with all my strength, Tomar hastily lashed them together with the leather belt from my harness.
Now that we were fastened together, the second phase of my plan went into effect. I’m afraid that both teen-agers eyed me askance as if questioning my sanity, when I told them what I intended doing. It was nothing less than to employ the combined strengths of all three of us in unison to pry apart the bars of Ylana’s cage, permitting her to inch sideways through the opening.
This was really not as difficult as it may seem to whatever reader chances to peruse these pages. I am a full-grown man and have lived an active, athletic life and am thus no weakling. To this add the fact that having lived much of my life under the slightly heavier gravitational pull of my native Earth, my strength is proportionately greater than that of an average Callistan. My strength is not superhuman by any means, but, with two strong young people lending their strength and vigor to mine, and considering the fact that the iron bars, while thick and heavy, were generations or even centuries old and deeply-eaten by rust, I thought we could pry the bars apart sufficiently for the slender girl to wriggle through.