"This way," the tall man said, leading them into a cubicle which began to spin slowly. Hawkmoon and D'Averc leant against the sides of the cubicle, feeling dizzy, but at last the experience was over and ZhenakTeng led them out into a richly carpeted room full of simple, comfortable looking furniture.
"These are my apartments," he said. "I'll send now for the medical members of my family who may be able to help your friend. Excuse me." He disappeared into another room. A little later he came back smiling. "My brothers will be here soon."
"I hope so," said D'Averc fastidiously. "I've never been greatly fond of the company of corpses…"
"It will not be long. Come, let us go into another room where refreshment awaits you."
They left the body of Mygan behind and entered a room where trays of food and drink seemed to drift, unsupported, in the air above piled cushions.
Following Zhenak-Teng's example, they seated themselves on the cushions and helped themselves to the food. It was delicious and they found themselves eating tremendous quantities of it.
As they ate, two men, of a similar appearance to Zhenak-Teng, entered the room.
"It is too late," said one of them to Zhenak-Teng.
"I am sorry, brother, but we cannot revive the old man. The wounds, and the time involved…"
Zhenak-Teng looked apologetically at D'Averc and Hawkmoon. "There-you have lost your comrade for good, I fear."
"Then perhaps you can give him a good departure," said D'Averc, almost relieved.
"Of course. We shall do what is necessary."
The other two withdrew for about half-an-hour and then returned just as Hawkmoon and D'Averc finished eating. The first man introduced himself as Bralan-Teng and the second announced himself as Polad-Teng. They were both brothers to Zhenak-Teng and practitioners of medicine. They inspected Hawkmoon's and D'Averc's wounds and applied dressings. Very shortly the two men began to feel improved.
"Now you must tell me how you came to the land of the Kampps," Zhenak-Teng said. "We have few strangers on our plain, because of the Charki. You must tell me of events in the other parts of the world…"
"I am not sure that you would understand the answer to your first enquiry," Hawkmoon told him, "or that we can help you with news of our world." And he explained, as best he could, how they had come here and where their world was. Zhenak-Teng listened with careful attention.
"Aye," he said, "you are right. I can understand little of what you tell me. I have never heard of any 'Europe' or 'Granbretan' and the device you describe is not known to our science. But I believe you. How else could you have turned up so suddenly in the land of Kampps?"
"What are the Kampps?" D'Averc asked. "You said they were not cities."
"So they are not. They are family houses, belonging to one clan. In our case, the underground house belongs to the Teng family. Other nearby families are the Ohn, the Sek and the Neng. Years ago there were more-many more-but the Charki found them and destroyed them…"
"And what are the Charki?" Hawkmoon put it.
"The Charki are our age-old enemies. They were created by those who once sought to destroy the houses of the plain. That enemy destroyed himself, ultimately, with some kind of explosive experiment, but his creatures-the Charki-continue to wander the plain. They have unwholesome means of defeating us so that they may feed off our life-energy." Zhenak-Teng shuddered.
"They feed off your life-energy?" D'Averc said with a frown. "What is that?"
"Whatever gives us life-whatever life is, they take it and leave us drained, useless, dying slowly, unable to move…"
Hawkmoon began another question, then changed his mind. Evidently the subject was painful to ZhenakTeng. Instead he asked, "And what is this plain? It does not seem natural to me."
"It is not. It was the site of our landing fields, for we of the One Hundred Families were once mighty and powerful-until the coming of he who created the Charki. He wanted our artifacts and our sources of power for himself. He was called Zhenadar-vron-Kensai and he brought the Charki with him from the east, their vocation being entirely to destroy the Families.
And destroy them they did, save for the handful that still survives. But gradually, through the centuries, the Charki sniff them out…"
"You seem to have no hope," said D'Averc, almost accusingly.
"We are merely realistic," Zhenak-Teng replied without rancour.
"Tomorrow we should like to be on our way," said Hawkmoon. "Have you maps-something that will help us reach Narleen?"
"I have a map-though it is crude. Narleen used to be a great trading city on the coast. That was centuries ago. I do not know what it might be today."
Zhenak-Teng rose. "I will show you to the room I have had prepared for you. There you may sleep tonight and begin your long journey in the morning."
Chapter Two
THE CHARKI
HAWKMOON AWOKE to the sounds of battle.
He wondered for a moment if he had dreamed and he was back in the cave and D'Averc was still engaged with Baron Meliadus. He sprang from his bed reaching for the sword that lay on a nearby stool with his tattered clothes. He was in the room where Zhenak-Teng had left them the previous night, and on the other bed D'Averc was awake, his features startled.
Hawkmoon began to struggle into his clothes. From behind the door came yells, the clash of swords, strange whining sounds and moans. When he was dressed, he went swiftly to the door and opened it a crack.
He was astonished. The bronzed, handsome folk of Teng-Kampp were busily at work trying to destroy one another-and it was not swords, after all, that were making the clashing sound, but meat cleavers, iron bars and a weird collection of domestic and scientific tools utilised as weapons. Snarls, bestial and alarming, were on all faces, and foam flecked lips, while eyes stared madly. The same insanity possessed them all!
Dark blue smoke began to pour along the corridor; there was a stink Hawkmoon could not define, the sound of smashing glass and torn metal.
"By the Runestaff, D'Averc," he gasped. "They seem possessed!"
A knot of battling men suddenly pressed against the door, pushing it inwards and Hawkmoon found himself in the middle of them. He pushed them back, sprang aside. None attacked him or D'Averc. They continued to butcher one another as if unaware of the spectators.
"This way," Hawkmoon said, and left the room, sword in hand. He coughed as the blue smoke entered his lungs and stung his eyes. Everywhere was ruin.
Corpses lay thick in the corridor.
Together they struggled along the passages until they reached Zhenak-Teng's apartments. The door was locked. Frantically, Hawkmoon beat upon it with the pommel of his blade.
"Zhenak-Teng, it is Hawkmoon and D'Averc! Are you within?"
There was a movement from the other side of the door, then it sprang open and Zhenak-Teng, his eyes wild with terror, beckoned them in, then hastily closed and locked the door again.
"The Charki," he said. "There must have been another pack roaming elsewhere. I have failed in my duty. They took us by surprise. We are doomed."
"I see no monsters," D'Averc said. "Your kinsmen fight among themselves."
"Aye-that's the Charki's way of defeating us. They emit waves-mental rays of some description-that turn us mad, make us see enemies in our closest friends and brothers. And while we fight, they enter our Kampp. They will soon be here!"
"The blue smoke-what is that?" D'Averc asked.
"Nothing to do with the Charki. It comes from our smashed generators. We have no power now, even if we could rally."