But new galleons of the skies were nearing completion with every hour in the shipyards of Tharkol. And valiant warriors by the scores and the hundreds would compete eagerly for the honor of serving aboard the second armada, when it was ready to depart. Distressing as was the sad news we must now bring back to the lords of the Three Cities, at least it was not final.
Jandar, Tomar, Lukor and Koja―their fate was as unknown as were the fates of Valkar and Zamara and all the others. They may have survived the destruction of the fleet, and capture at the hands of the Mind Wizards. At least, until we found unquestionable proof of their deaths―until we found their very graves―we were determined not to give up all hope.
But it was with a heavy heart in every breast that we turned our prow towards Shondakor and set sail for the Golden City of the Ku Thad. I did not look forward to the unpleasant duty of telling Princess Darloona that her beloved mate was either dead, or hopelessly lost, or a prisoner in the unknown country of the Mind Wizards!
I knew the gallant and courageous princess too well to fear that she would utter one word of displeasure towards any of us. She knew we had done the best we could, and that the man does not live upon this planet who could have done more to find the lost warriors. But I dreaded the sadness in her lovely face and the emptiness in her eyes, when she heard the grim news we must bring her …
But yesterday we arrived above Shondakor and moored the lone surviving vessel of the great armada to the upper tiers of the great palace whose spires soar up from the heart of the Golden City.
True to my estimate of her character, Darloona did not let one word of criticism fall from her lips when she heard our halting tale. But the expression of agony which convulsed her features as we told of the unknown fate of Jandar cut me to the heart.
The jungle maid, Ylana, was overwhelmed by the splendor and magnificence of the superb capital of the Ku Thad. But her shy and awkward feelings of being a lonely stranger amid so glorious a throng were swiftly banished by our wonderful princess. Despite the agony she endured, Darloona saw the discomfort Ylana suffered, and embraced the girl, folding her to her heart, and told her she was at home and among friends, and would dwell in a suite all her own near to the apartments Darloona herself inhabited.
And then, instinctively guessing how to set the jungle girl at her ease, she sat down on the steps of the throne, and gave her the infant Prince Kaldar to hold. Soon the maid was beaming smiles, chuckling at the antics of the fat babe, and feeling very much at home.
Despite my weariness I have ridden all night through the Grand Kumala with an escort of Ku Thad warriors.
Now as the titanic bulk of mighty Gordrimator lifts itself over the horizon, I stand before that enigmatic thing of pale green jade which Jandar calls the Gate Between the Worlds. Here it was, upon this very spot, years ago, that Jandar the Earthling first materialized upon the surface of our planet. And to this place he has come three times ere now, over the years, to leave upon this mysterious disc of glistening stone the manuscripts wherein he had written down for the eyes of the men of his world an account of his adventures and discoveries upon Thanator.
I do not know if any eye but mine will ever peruse these pages. And Jandar, too, often wondered about this, as he placed in the center of the jade disc his manuscripts. Perhaps they dematerialize, to rise up the sparkling beam of unknown force, to traverse the immense gulf of nothingness that lies between the worlds, only to vanish forever from all knowledge, lost to wander forever between the countless stars. Or perhaps, as was Jandar’s oft-expressed hope, they retrace his journey back to his own native world, which he calls The Earth, to materialize unharmed at the bottom of the jade-lined well that lies amidst the ruined city in the jungles. And whether then they are somehow brought to the knowledge of the men of his world, or lie in the ruins to molder and decay unseen, unread―who can say?
Only you, who read these words, can know the truth … if you exist!
Why I perform this curious task I cannot really say.
No, that is inaccurate: I do know why!
I do it in memory of Jandar of Callisto―my prince, my pupil, and my friend.
He would have wished it so. All the long days he toiled at the completion of this latest manuscript would otherwise have been wasted in vain.
He would have wanted me to have set down, however crude and unskillful may be my gifts at the composition of narratives, some account of the circumstances which followed his disappearance from the bourne of human knowledge.
Aye, even as he stood on the brink of the Unknown, he would have bid me do what I have done!
Whatever his nameless fate―whatever the mysterious doom which has fallen upon the noblest hero of two worlds―he would have wished an account of these last and final adventures to be sent through the Gate Between the Worlds … perhaps to vanish in the far places of the Universe … perhaps to come at last to the amazement and attention of his own countrymen.
“A story is only as good as the ending of it,” he would say, with a reckless grin.
Whether or not I shall ever stand in this place again, to set within the Gate an account of my future adventures, I cannot say.
I am old, and my days are few.
And, alas, only I, Zastro of the Ku Thad, know the language of your world!
Whether the true ending of the story will ever be made known, is a question I cannot answer.
Perhaps it is best to end the tale in this manner. Like all heroes, Jandar of Callisto will someday fight his last battle … and venture through the Black Gates of Death to whatever undiscovered country lies beyond. Perhaps it is best that the story ends here, before that last battle is fought … if, indeed, it has not already been fought.
And so I wonder, in my philosophical way, if perhaps it is not best that we do not know, that we never know, the end of Jandar’s saga. Let us leave him as we saw him last, going forward into unknown perils, fearless and unafraid, his heart staunch and unshaken, stout and loyal friends at his side, and brave laughter on his lips.
It is not, after all, such a bad ending.
Will the story of my life end so gallantly?
Will yours?