It seemed strange indeed to me that I stood conversing
thus amicably with an Or-tis. I should have been at
his throat, but there was something about him that
disarmed me, and after his speech I felt, I am almost
ashamed to say, something of friendliness for him. He was
an American after all, and he hated the common enemy.
Was he responsible for the mad act of an ancestor dead
now almost four hundred years? But the hate that was
almost a part of my being would not down entirely—he
was still an Or-tis. I told him as much. He shrugged his
shoulders.
“I do not know that I can blame you,” he said; “but
what matters it? Tomorrow we shall both be dead. Let
us at least call a truce until then.”
He was a pleasant-faced young fellow, two or three years
my senior, perhaps, with a winning way that disarmed malice.
It would have been very hard to have hated this Or-tis.
“Agreed!” I said, and held out my hand. He took it
and then he laughed.
“Thirty-four ancestors would turn over in their graves
if they could see this,” he cried.
We talked there by the opening for a long time, while
in the trail below us constant streams of Kalkars moved
steadily to the battle front. Faintly, from a great distance,
came the booming of the drums.
“You beat them badly yesterday,” he said. “They are
filled with terror.”
“We will beat them again today and tomorrow and the
next day until we have driven them into the sea,” I said.
“How many warriors have you?” he asked.
“There were full twenty-five thousand when we rode out
of the desert,” I replied proudly.
He shook his head dubiously. “They must have ten,
twenty times twenty-five thousand,” he told me.
“Even though they have forty times twenty-five thousand
we shall prevail,” I insisted.
“Perhaps you will, for you are better fighters; but they
have so many youths growing into the warrior class every
day. It will take years to wear them down. They breed
like rabbits. Their women are married before they are
fifteen, as a rule. If they have no child at twenty they
are held up to scorn, and if they are still childless at thirty
they are killed, and unless they are mighty good workers
they are killed at fifty anyhow—their usefulness to the
State is over.”
Night came on. The Kalkars brought us no food or water.
It became very dark. In the trail below and in some
of the surrounding tents flares gave a weird, flickering
light. The sky was overcast with light clouds. The Kalkars
in the avenue beyond our doorway dozed. I touched the
Or-tis upon the shoulder where he lay stretched beside me
on the hard floor.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“I am going,” I said. “Do you wish to come?”
He sat up. “How are you going?” he demanded, still
in a low whisper.
“I do not know, nor how far I shall go; but I am going,
if only far enough to cheat The Butcher.”
He laughed. “Good! I will go with you.”
It had taken me a long time to overcome the prejudices
of heredity, and I had thought long before I could bring
myself to ask an Or-tis to share with me this attempt to
escape; but now it was done. I hoped I would not regret it.
I arose and moved cautiously toward the doorway. A
wick, burning from the nozzle of a clay vessel filled with
oil, gave forth a sickly light. It shone upon two hulking
Kalkars nodding against the wall as they sat upon the stone
floor of the avenue. My knife, of course, had been taken
from me and I was unarmed; but here was a sword within
my reach and another for the Or-tis. The hilt of one protruded
from beneath the cloak of the nearer Kalkar. My hand,
reaching forth, was almost upon it when he moved. I
could not wait to learn if he was awaking or but moving in
his sleep. I lunged for the hilt, grasped it and the fellow
was awake. At the same instant the Or-tis sprang upon
the other.
He whom I had attacked lumbered to his feet, clawing at
the hand that had already half drawn his sword from its
scabbard, and at the same time he set up a terrific yelling.
I struck him on the jaw with my clenched fist. I struck
him as hard as I could strike, as he loomed above me his
full eight feet. The Or-tis was having a bad time with his
man, who had seized him by the throat and was trying to
draw a knife to finish him. The knife must have become
stuck in its scabbard for a moment, or his long, red cloak
was in the way. I do not know. I saw only a flash of it
from the corner of my eye as my man stiffened and then
sank to the floor. Then I wheeled upon the other, a naked
blade in my hand. He threw the Or-tis aside when he
saw me and whipped out his own sword, but he was too
slow. As I ran my point into his heart I heard the sound
of running footsteps ascending the stairway and the shouts
of men. I handed the sword I carried to the Or-tis and
snatched the other from the fellow I had just finished.
Then I kicked the puny flare as far as I could kick it and
called to the Or-tis to follow me. The light went out and
together we ran along the dark avenue toward the stairway,
up which we could hear the warriors coming in response
to the cries of our late antagonists.
We reached the head of the stairs but a moment before
the Kalkars appeared. There were three of them, and
one carried a weak, smoking flare that did little but cast
large, grotesque, dancing shadows upon wall and stair and
reveal our targets to us without revealing us to them.
“Take the last one,” I whispered to the Or-tis.
We leaned over the railing and as he smote the head of
the last of the three I finished the second. The first, carrying
the flare, turned to find himself facing two swords. He
gave a shriek and started down the avenue. That would
not do. If he had kept still we might have let him live, for
we were in a hurry; but he did not keep still and so we
pursued him. He reminded me of a comet as he fled through
the dark with his tail of light, only it was such a little tail.
However, he was a little comet. He was a fast comet,
though, and we could not catch him until the end of the
avenue brought him to bay, then, in turning, he slipped and
fell. I was upon him in the same instant, but some fancy
stayed my blade when I might have run it through him. Instead
I seized him, before he could recover himself, and
lifting him from the floor I hurled him through the aperture
at the end of the avenue. He still clung to his lamp
and as I leaned out above him he appeared a comet indeed,
though he was quickly extinguished in the courtyard far
below.
The Or-tis chuckled at my elbow. “The stupid clod!”
he ejaculated. “He clung to that flare even to death, when,
had he thrown it away and dodged into one of these many
chambers he could have eluded us and still lived.”
“Perhaps he needed it to light his way to Hell,” I suggested.
“They need no help in that direction,” the Or-tis assured
me, “for they will all get there, if there be such a place.”
We retraced our steps to the stairway again, but once
more we heard men ascending. The Or-tis plucked me by
the sleeve. “Come,” he whispered; “it is futile to attempt
escape in this direction now that the guard is aroused. I
am familiar with this place. I have been here many times.
If we have the nerve we may yet escape. Will you follow
me?”
“Certainly,” I replied.
The corpses of two of our recent antagonists lay at our
feet at the head of the stairs, where we stood. Or-tis
stooped and snatched their cloaks and bonnets from them.
“We shall need these if we reach the ground—alive,” he
said. “Follow me closely.”
He turned and continued along the corridor, presently entering
a chamber at the left. Behind us we heard the Kalkars
ascending the stairs. They were calling to their fellows
above, from whom they would never receive a reply;
but they were evidently coming slowly, for which we were
both thankful.
Or-tis crossed the chamber to an aperture in the wall.
“Below is the courtyard,” he said. “It is a long way down.
These walls are laid in uneven courses. An agile man
might make his way to the bottom without falling. Shall
we try it? We can go down close to these apertures and
thus rest often, if we wish.”
“You go on one side and I will go on the other,” I told
him.
He rolled the two cloaks and the bonnets into a bundle
and dropped them into the dark void beneath, then we slid
over the edge of the aperture. Clinging with my hands
I found a foothold and then another below the first. The
ledges were about half the width of my hand. Some of
them were rounded by time and the weather. These did
not afford a very good hold. However, I reached the aperture
below without mishap and there, I am free to confess,
I was glad to pause for a moment, as I was panting as
though I had run a mile.
Or-tis came down in safety, too. “The Butcher appears
less terrible,” he said.
I laughed. “He would have it over quicker,” I replied.
The next stage we descended two floors before we halted.
I like to have slipped and fallen twice in that distance. I
was wet with sweat as I took a seat beside my companion.
I do not like to recall that adventure. It sends the shivers
through me always, even now; but at last it was over—we
reached the bottom together and donned the cloaks and
the bonnets of the Kalkars. The swords, for which we had
no scabbards, we slipped through our own belts, the cloaks
hiding the fact that they were scabbardless.
The smell of horses was strong in our nostrils as we
crept forward toward a doorway. All was darkness within
as we groped forward to find that we were in a small chamber
with a door at the opposite side. Nearly all the doors
of the ancients have been destroyed, either by the fires
that have gutted most of the buildings, by decay, or by the
Kalkars that have used them for fuel; but there are some
left—they are the metal doors, and this was one. I pushed
it open enough to see if there was a light beyond. There
was. It was in the great chamber on the first floor where
the horses were tethered. It was not a brilliant light, but
a sad, flickering light. Even the lights of the Kalkars are
grimy and unclean. It cast a pallid luminance beneath it;
elsewhere were heavy shadows. The horses, when they
moved, cast giant shadows upon the walls and floor and upon
the great, polished stone columns.
A guard loafed before the door that led to the trail in
front of the tent. It was composed of five or six men. I
suppose there were others in some nearby chamber. The
doorway through which we peered was in shadow. I pushed
it open far enough to admit our bodies and we slipped
through. In an instant we were hidden from the sight of
the guard, among the horses. Some of them moved restlessly
as we approached them. If I could but find Red
Lightning! I had searched along one line almost the full
length of the chamber and had started along a second when
I heard a low nicker close by. It was he! Love of The
Flag! It was like finding my own brother.
In the slovenly manner of the Kalkars, the saddles and
bridles lay in the dirt in the aisle behind the horses. Fortunately
I found my own, more easily, of course, because
it is unlike those of the Kalkars, and while I slipped them
quietly upon Red Lightning, the Or-tis, selecting a mount
haphazard, was saddling and bridling it.
After a whispered consultation, we led our horses to the
rear of the room and mounted among the shadows, unobserved
by the guard. Then we rode out from behind the
picket lines and moved slowly toward the entrance, talking
and laughing in what we hoped might appear an unconcerned
manner, the Or-tis riding on the side nearer the guard and
a little in advance, that Red Lightning might be hidden
from them, for we thought that they might recognize him
more quickly than they would us.
As they saw us coming they ceased their chatter and
looked up, but we paid no attention to them, riding straight
on for the aperture that led into the trail outside the structure.
I think we might have passed them without question
had there not suddenly burst from the doorway of what was,
I judge, the guard-room, an excited figure who shouted
lustily to all within hearing of his voice.
“Let no one leave! The Julian and the Or-tis have
escaped!” he screamed.
The guard threw themselves across the entrance and at
the same instant I put spurs to Red Lightning, whipped out
my sword, and bore down upon them, the Or-tis following
my example. I cut at one upon my left front and Red
Lightning bore down another beneath his iron hoofs. We
were out upon the trail and the Or-tis was beside us. Reining
to the left we bore south a few yards and then turned
west upon another trail, the shouts and curses of the Kalkars
ringing in our ears.
With free rein we let our mounts out to far greater speed
than the darkness and the littered trail gave warrant, and
it was not until we had put a mile behind us that we drew
in to a slower gait. The Or-tis spurred to my side.
“I had not thought it could be done, Julian,” he said;
“yet here we ride, as free as any men in all the country
wide.”
“But still within the shadow of The Butcher,” I replied.
“Listen! They are following hot-foot.” The pounding of
the hoofs of our pursuers’ horses rose louder and louder
behind us as we listened. Again we spurred on, but presently
we came to a place where a ruined wall had fallen
across the trail.
“May The Butcher get me!” cried the Or-tis, “that I
should have forgotten that this trail is blocked. We should
have turned north or south at the last crossing. Come, we
must ride back quickly, if we are to reach it before they.”
Wheeling, we put our mounts to the run back along the
trail over which we had but just come. It was but a short
distance to the cross trail, yet our case looked bad, for even
in the darkness the pursuing Kalkars could now be seen,
so close were they. It was a question as to which would
reach the crossing first.
“You turn to the south,” I cried to the Or-tis, “and I
will turn to the north. In that way one of us may escape.”
“Good!” he agreed; “there are too many of them for
us to stand and fight.”
He was right—the trail was packed with them, and we
could hear others coming far behind the van. It was like
a young army. I hugged the left hand side of the trail and
Or-tis the right. We reached the crossing not a second in
advance of the leaders of the pursuit and Or-tis turned to
the south and I to the north. Into the blackness of the
new trail I plunged and behind me came the Kalkars. I
urged Red Lightning on and he responded as I knew he
would. It was madness to ride through the black night
along a strange trail at such speed, yet it was my only
hope. Quickly my fleet stallion drew away from the clumsy,
ill-bred mounts of my pursuers. At the first crossing I
turned again to the west and though here I encountered a
steep and winding hill it was fortunately but a short ride
to the top and after that the way was along a rolling trail,
but mostly down hill.
The structures of the ancients that remained standing
became fewer and fewer as we proceeded and in an hour
they had entirely disappeared. The trail, however, was
fairly well marked and after a single, short turn to the
south it continued westward over rolling country in almost
a straight line.
I had reduced my speed to conserve Red Lightning’s
strength, and as no sign of pursuit developed, I jogged along
at a running walk, a gait which Red Lightning could keep
up for hours without fatigue. I had no idea where the trail
was leading me, and at the time I did not even know that
it was bearing west (for the heavens were still overcast),
though I judged that this must be the fact. My first thought
was to put as much distance as possible between me and the
Kalkar camp and at the first streak of dawn take to the
hills and then work my way north and east in an attempt
to rejoin my people.
And so I moved on, through country that was now level
and now rolling, for the better part of three hours. A
cool breeze sprang up and blew in my face. It had a damp
freshness and a strange odor with which I was entirely unfamiliar.
I was tired from my long exertions, from loss
of sleep and from lack of food and water, yet this strange
breeze revived me and filled me with new strength and life.
It had become very dark, although I knew that dawn
must be near. I wondered how Red Lightning could pick
his way through the utter blackness. This very thought
was in my mind when he came to a sudden halt. I could
see nothing, yet I could tell that Red Lightning had some
good reason for his action. I listened and there came to
my ears a strange, sullen roar—a deep pounding, such as
I never had heard before. What could it be?
I dismounted to rest my beloved friend while I listened
and sought for an explanation of this monotonously reiterated
sound. At length I determined to await dawn before
continuing. With the bridle reins about my wrist I
lay down, knowing that if danger threatened, Red Lightning
would warn me. In an instant I was asleep.
How long I slept I do not know—an hour, perhaps—but
when I awoke it was daylight and the first thing that
broke upon my sensibilities was the dull, monotonous booming,
the pounding, pounding, pounding that had lulled me
to sleep so quickly.
Never shall I forget the scene that burst upon my astonished
eyes as I rose to my feet. Before me was a sheer
cliff dropping straight away at my feet, upon the very verge
of which Red Lightning had halted the previous night;
and beyond, as far as the eye could reach, water—a vast
expanse of water, stretching on and on and on—the sea!
At last a Julian had looked upon it! It rolled up upon the
sands below me, pounding, surging, booming. It rolled back
again, resistless, restless, and, at once, terrifying and soothing.
Terrifying in its immensity and mystery, soothing
in the majestic rhythm of its restlessness.
