“Oh, Koja,” Tomar cried, “we searched and searched for you, ever so far up the shore, truly we did!”
Koja flexed his brow-antennae in the Yathoon equivalent of a shrug.
“I know you did, little one, for I saw your footprints in the mud. And by the same markings I followed your path easterly around the curve of the lake until you evidently were attacked by the monster lizard―”
“The groack,” I said, nodding.
“Is that what they are called? Well, anyway, from the mark of many feet upon the ground, and the arrows left in the body of the monster, I deduced you had been seized by a war-party and since then I have been following your trail through the jungles. I have been lurking about for some days in this place, trying to discover where you were being kept prisoner, and, having once ascertained that fact, trying to figure out some method of setting you free. You can imagine my surprise, just now, to watch as you freed yourselves by some ruse and came fleeing exactly towards the place where I stood concealed, spying upon the cave-village.”
“It’s wonderful to see you alive and well, Koja, old friend,” I said, “but we had better continue the explanations later. Right now we should be putting as much distance as possible between ourselves and the jungle men, who will be hot on our trail as soon as they discover we are missing.”
Koja solemnly agreed as to the wisdom of this, and led us off into the jungle. It was dark as pitch once we were deeply within the jungle and the boughs had woven together above our heads into an impenetrable screen of foliage through which only an infrequent and fugitive wisp of moonlight managed to filter. But the great many-faceted eyes of the Yathoon arthropods can see far better in the darkness than can our relatively feeble human organs of vision, and we followed his lead, covering ground far swifter and easier than we could possibly have done alone and without his aid.
The Yathoon are superb huntsmen, and I have elsewhere noted they have remarkable powers of observation. The big fellow led us unerringly through the tangle of jungle paths and by dawn we had penetrated quite deeply into the central regions of the jungle-clad plateau. By now, I had no doubt, the jungle men had discovered the slain guard and the fact that we had escaped; also by now the Mind Wizards would have arrived at the cave village to examine us. It yet remained to be seen whether or not Xangan and his warriors would attempt to track us down. There was a good chance that they might not even try … after all, the plateau covered an enormous expanse, and was mostly jungle, and we could be anywhere by this time. Still, I thought it likely that they would be on our trail.
Our problem was, quite simply, that we had nowhere to go. Unless we tried to reach the edge of the plateau, and then attempted to climb down the sheer cliff and somehow escape into the mountains, we could only hide in the jungle. Lukor broached the subject of the River People, whose territory to the east we had been attempting to reach when Xangan’s party had intercepted us. This, we decided, was a dubious refuge at best; at worst, it might be a trap. For, if only two primitive tribes shared the jungle plateau between them, and one of these lay under the thumb of the Mind Wizards, could the second tribe have escaped the same dominance? By now, it was at least possible, war-parties of the River People might be searching for us, as well.
Koja then voiced an idea which seemed the most promising of the few alternatives open to us. Surely the armada would be searching for us, or for Koja and Lukor, at least, knowing they could not have flown very far in the skiff. The Jalathadar of the Xaxar might in fact be cruising overhead at that very moment. If that were so, they could neither see us nor we them, due to the dense jungle foliage. He therefore suggested we take the shortest route to the shores of the Cor-Az, for there in the open we had the best chance of spotting one of the vessels of the armada or of ourselves being noticed by our friends who would certainly be searching the landscape beneath their keel with sharp eyes, alert for any sign of us.
“The wrecked skiff, at least, should easily be seen and noticed from above,” Koja said. “I dragged it well up out of reach of the waves, and arranged the one wing left intact so that it stands out, throwing a prominent shadow whose regularity should draw the attention of our friends aloft. It is there beside the skiff, if anywhere, we are most likely to be seen.”
“Makes sense, I suppose,” Lukor said. Then, clearing his throat, he ventured: “But is it likely the armada is still cruising about near here? Surely they would have scanned the plateau region many days ago, and, having found us not, have either widened their search into more distant regions, or, I fear, given up the search entirely by now, resuming the postponed expedition against Kuur.”
Koja regarded him owlishly.
“There is logic in what you say, friend Lukor, but I can think of no plan with better chances of success.”
Nor could any of us, so we decided upon Koja’s plan then and there.
By mid-morn we reached the lake-shore and Koja led us unerringly to the remains of the skiff. As he had pointed out, it certainly made an unmistakable marker on the beach, whose surface was otherwise smooth and empty in either direction. We searched the skies until our necks ached, but, alas, the heavens were as empty as the beach.
“If our friends have not abandoned the search, they must have left the vicinity of the plateau or surely we could see the ships,” Koja admitted somberly. “Lukor was correct, and I am guilty of wishful thinking.”
“I wonder,” Tomar spoke up unexpectedly. The boy felt himself very much the junior member of our little band, and seldom voiced an opinion, as if hesitant to intrude on the councils of his elders. We encouraged him to explain himself, so he added: “They may have flown on to search the mountains surrounding this plateau … but doesn’t it seem likely they will be coming back this way for one final look before sailing on to Kuur?”
We agreed there was much in what he said, and decided to wait a while before attempting to circumnavigate the Cor-Az and find our way down the cliffs. The hours dragged by at a dreary pace, and I passed the time by writing these last few pages in my journal, since I had impulsively carried the manuscript and my writing materials along with me when making the escape from the jungle men. It has occurred to me that even if we do decide to move on before the armada returns to the vicinity of the Great Lake for one last look around, I might be wise to bury the manuscript beneath some sort of marker which would catch the eye of our friends. Pursuant to this notion, Tomar gathered for me from further up the shore a quantity of stones from which we could hastily build a cairn to make the hiding place.
Towards late afternoon a peculiar grunting cry, deep-throated and guttural, came to our ears. Koja listened to it for a time before deciding that it was coming nearer.
“They are hunting us with othodes,” he said in his metallic expressionless voice.
Othodes are husky, burly brutes about the size of bull-mastiffs, whom they rather roughly resemble if you can overlook their six short, stumpy legs, remarkable purple hide, and ugly neckless head whose principal features are goggling eyes and a froglike gash of a mouth that stretches from ear to ear and from which blunt, powerful tusks protrude. They hunt in packs in their wild state and are ferocious, intelligent beasts whom certain of the nations of Thanator domesticate and use as we Earthlings use hunting-dogs.
I had never before chanced to hear the hoarse, grunting cry of othodes, but I did not care to dispute Koja’s judgment in the matter.
So the jungle men were on our track, after all! Well, I had feared as much. And there was nothing we could do but attempt to elude recapture as long as possible. Luckily, night was about to fall, which ought to help us a little.