Although the night was well advanced, the visitors were ushered into the encampment of the River People and were invited to rest themselves before the fire while food and drink were prepared for their feasting. While Thadron and his warriors refreshed themselves, and rested from their labors, Jugrid and Zuruk conferred together over the disturbing turn of events that had dislodged Jugrid from his accustomed position of command, and Jugrid informed his father-in-law of the discomforting fact that a Mind Wizard had taken refuge among the caves. .
As it happened, the River People had never fallen under the awe and terror of the Unseen Ones. They feared and despised the Dark Lords of Kuur, but neither venerated nor obeyed the yellow dwarves. Tomar and Ylana were brought into the council-circle to lay before Zuruk and his chiefs the story of recent events. They described the expeditions launched against the citadel of the Mind Wizards by Jandar of Shondakor, Zamara of Tharkol, and Kaamurath of Soraba. They told of the battle against Kuur, of its fall, and gave the happy news of the destruction of the Kuurians and of their power. That only the lone Zhu Kor had survived the extermination of his hated kind was welcome news to Zuruk. That he had now come to dwell upon the jungle plateau, under the protection of Quone and the Elders, however, was grim news, and of dire foreboding.
Far into the night they conferred, and in the hours before dawn gave over the conference without reaching any decision as to the wisest course of action they might follow.
Weariness now lay heavily upon them all, for it had been a long and busy night. One by one they went to rest, and Jugrid was given a bed of honor in the very enclosure of Zuruk, with Ylana taking a place among the women. As for Tomar, he slept wrapped in a cloak among the warriors grouped around the dying fire.
But in the village of the River People, not everyone slept. Although Charak had greatly fallen from his former place of esteem, and although Ugar and two or three of his most ardent supporters had been slain, there were still a dozen or so of his henchmen who had cause enough to bitterly regret the recent catastrophic turn of events. Some of these were raw young men, untried in battle, ambitious for sub-chieftaincies, who were so generally disliked by Zuruk’s people that they had little recourse but to side with Charak, even in defeat. And there were, as well, a few older men who chose to side with Charak in sheer desperation. Lazy men, poor hunters, cowardly backbiters, jealous of other men in high positions, who were generally looked down upon by the cleaner, kinder, wiser men of the tribe, and were thus forced to band together for want of comradeship.
To such as these, Charak’s swift and thorough fall meant their own disgrace, as well. The failure of his cause was the collapse of all their hopes and ambitions. Muttering together, they decided upon a desperate course of action. They would free Charak from his bonds and, together, seek refuge in either the jungle or among the Cave People who were followers of this Xangan of whom Jugrid had spoke in such disparaging terms. His own cowardice, brutality and treachery, made Xangan sound like their own kind. And if he was truly in command of the Cave People now, perhaps they could join his service and find it more to their liking than that of Zuruk.
One thing was certain, at least. They had no longer any future here among the River People. Charak’s disgrace was complete, and in the disintegration of his plans they saw the complete destruction of all their hopes and schemes for the future.
DAWN was almost upon them when the last few followers of Charak crept upon the warrior who stood guard over their bound leader and struck him down with a cowardly blow from behind. Charak, who had spent the last hours in cold terror of imminent execution or exile, babbled with relief and joy as he recognized, among those who stole into his but to free him, the features of those who were staunchest among his remaining henchmen.
Wasting no time, and making as little noise as possible, they cut the blackbeard free, snatched up what weapons and provisions they could find, and left the village by stealthy and secret ways.
They crept down the sloping meadow, went through the tall rushes by the river’s edge, and waded shivering into the cold water of the shallows.
Beyond the River of the Groack lay the jungle, and safety, and―quite possibly―a rich, comfortable new life among the followers of Xangan, to whom their brutal and cowardly and treacherous hearts had already warmed.
Just as clean, brave, noblehearted men, when they meet, are able to sense their own qualities even in strangers, the same is true of the cowards and bullies and traitors of this world, as of my own.
Like cries out with eloquent tongue to like, despite all barriers of creed or race or birth.
They were halfway across the river, and already beginning to scramble up the further bank, when suddenly, and without the slightest warning, a howling mob of warriors came leaping out at them from the jungle’s edge, brandishing clubs and axes and spears.
Who these strangers were, Charak’s men had no way of knowing. But, whereas many of them would have greatly preferred to turn and run from a pitched battle, they had no choice but to stand and defend themselves. And so they fought, Charak among them, for the condemned traitor had been in the forefront of those who fled the village, thinking it the safest place to be in case Zuruk’s sentinels should fall upon them from the rear.
Instead―as often happens―the forefront was the last place he could have wished to be. For, when the unknown attackers swept down upon them from the edges of the jungle, he found himself in the front line of the battle. And so thick and heavy was the press of his own men behind him, scrambling at his very heels, that he could not, under any pretense, fall back and let the other men do the fighting for him, as was his natural inclination.
A burly and hulking fellow stood directly in his way, swinging a great, terrible club. He was trembling and pale, his bloated, ugly features wet with perspiration. And there spewed continually from his thick lips a cowardly bleating, mixed with a torrent of foul oaths.
Whimpering and snarling, knees trembling with terror, Charak fended off the stranger’s blows awkwardly, and thrust out with his spear. The stroke was clumsy, but driven with all the strength of panic. And, so stumblingly did the stranger swerve aside with a bleat of fear as the obsidian blade of the spear came flashing for his breast, that he tripped over his own feet and fell sprawling in the wet mud of the riverbank.
Charak growled a wolfish growl, leering. He wrenched his spear loose from the mud and drove it again at his assailant’s unprotected breast. Knifelike, the keen-edged blade sank into the stranger’s flesh piercing his heart.
Just then, as chance would have it, dawn broke in all its golden glory over the jungle Moon.
Blinking in the sudden light, Charak stared down into the dead face of Xangan, wondering who he was…
Chapter 19
THE JAWS OF DOOM
NEAR dawn, when the tumult of battle arose from the river, the warriors in the village of the River People awoke suddenly to a sense of danger. Snatching up their weapons, they ran out of their huts eager to discover what manner of menace threatened their peace. Tomar and Ylana, in their separate quarters, were rudely jarred awake in this manner. Hearts thudding with excitement, the boy and girl donned their garments and went to see what was happening.
Zuruk the chief had sprung so swiftly from his sleeping-place that he had not bothered to put on his kiltlike skirt. Clenching a long spear and war-axe in his fists, he stood naked in the golden daylight, peering around him keenly, every sense alert for the presence of danger.