CHAPTER VI
Morning. Pale green morning, and the vast estate of dark Vydys the Cruel.
Bukal begged, "Give it up, Craig Nesom. There is no hope. Besides, this is between the Kukzubas, the barons. Vydys seized your Narla only as a weapon against Lord Zenaor. She will not harm her."
Craig cursed him.
The bronzed Baemae's lips drew thin. "What would you have us do, then, alien? Throw our discs against her defenses? Gut ourselves on her guards' weapons?"
Bleakly, Craig stared up at the shining ramparts. Bitterness seethed in him.
And yet ... was it his right to be bitter? These were brave men, dedicated to the Baemae's fight against the barons. But Narla was not of them. The things she meant to him lay between two only.
He said, "Forgive me, Bukal. You and your people—you have troubles enough. I could not give you more."
"Then what—?"
"I'll go alone."
The hot light left Bukal's eyes. He gripped the Earthman's arm. "No, Craig—"
"Yes, Bukal." Craig pulled free of the other's hand.
"But—"
Of a sudden Craig was weary of argument, of empty phrases. Tilting his disc, he raced away from the Baemae leader, skimming out as the swallow swoops, straight for the gates of Vydys' shaft-like Tower of Cadilek.
But green fire blazed from the port-slots. Veering sharply, Craig sped away again, climbing along the wall in the shelter of the angle bastion.
Then he had topped the lowest level's battlements. Leveling off, he glided across the roof to a point beyond the central obelisk where none could see him.
There, at last, he brought his disc to rest.
But no attack from above would baffle Vydys. Not after that night of blood of Torneulan.
Ignoring the roof-ports, Craig crossed quickly to the parapet along the rear wall. A coil of rope, stripped from his waist, gave him a line down. In seconds he was upon the ground.
Fire-gun in hand, then, he moved along the wall to a deep-set, shrubbery-shrouded postern.
The door opened at his first pressure. A dim-lit, stone-walled corridor loomed, inviting.
An invitation to death, perhaps....
Cat-footed, Craig slipped inside ... stood taut and breathless, waiting.
But no sound came, no sign of guards or trouble.
Craig's scalp prickled. This was too pat, too easy.
But trap or not, here lay his only chance at Vydys, his only hope of reaching Narla.
Shadow-silent, he moved down the hallway to twin kresh-wood doors, one set on each side of the passage.
Craig pressed each in turn. But they were locked; they would not budge.
Raw-nerved, he moved on again.
Now came a short stair, leading down. At the bottom, a heavy door barred the passage.
Walking softly, the Earthman descended. Reached for the door.
It swung wide before he even touched it. Light blazed, so bright he fell back a step, half-blinded. A voice said, "Welcome, Craig Nesom!"
The voice of Vydys.
Craig pivoted.
But now, behind him, the kresh-wood doors had opened. Guards stood at the ready, weapons poised.
Craig faced the light again.
It shone like a dazzling wall. Even shielding his eyes, Craig could see nothing for its brilliance.
Vydys' voice commanded, "Come forward, alien! I would not harm you."
He sucked in a breath; stepped across the threshold.
Hands shot out ... seized him ... held him helpless while they wrenched away his fire-gun and his dagger.
Then, incredibly, Vydys was saying, "Away, guards! Leave us." And he was free again and stumbling forward, the door slamming shut behind him.
Groping, he drew himself erect; turned, searching for the woman.
But still there was only the blazing silver light, dazzling him to blindness. Her laughter rippled out of nowhere, a sound to sting him to impotent fury.
He lashed out: "How long do I stand here, woman? Do you fear to face me?"
"Fear you—?" She laughed again, and now there was a new note in her voice, an element he could not name or place. "No, warrior, I do not fear you."
Even as she spoke, the dazzling light was fading. Like a wall dissolving, the veil of its brilliance fell away.
Vydys stood before Craig, high on a dais.
Blinking, he stared up at her.
The ripe lips curved into a smile. Sinuous cat-graceful, she moved towards him, sleek silvery body-sheath shimmering as she descended. "You see, Earthman? I told you I did not fear you."
He stared down into the midnight eyes, black and unfathomable as the void itself. "Then what—?"
The scarlet lips parted. She swayed against him. "Kiss me, alien!"
Involuntarily, Craig stiffened. "What—!"
The woman laughed softly. "Is it so strange a concept, alien? Am I so old, so drab, so ugly?"
Craig could find no words.
"We are as one in so many ways, Craig Nesom," dark Vydys went on. "Fear is not in us, nor yet mercy. We know what it means to strike with daring. Both of us hold ruthless to our hatred for Lord Zenaor."
Still Craig did not move. "And because we both hate Zenaor, I should kiss you?"
"If we stand together, we can defeat him." The dark eyes half mocked, half measured. "Some say that pain is my only passion. That is not true. I love also as a woman. There are men, Kukzubas barons, who would sell their souls for my embrace."
"Then why not give it?"
"Why—?" The throaty laughter rippled. "Because they desire me does not mean I want them, Earthling. I seek a man of blood and iron as well as passion—a champion to aid me against Zenaor."
In spite of himself, Craig smiled thinly. "Some might call that a tribute. To me, it seems left-handed."
Vydys frowned, ever so slightly. "I do not understand you, alien. Would it be such punishment to sit beside me, ruling Lysor?" And then, eager again: "For we can do it, with your valor and the weapon they say you received from the one called Tumek."
"The weapon—!"
"Yes. A crystal, to win power even over the Xumarian ourobos my spies say Zenaor plans to use against the Baemae. You have it, do you not?"
She drew closer as she spoke. Her hands slid over him, touched the jewel-case where it lay flat against his body. Before he could stop her, she had it out and open.
"So—! This is the thing! A pretty bauble...."
Craig didn't answer.
"How do you use it, alien?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know!" The smooth face stiffened. "Or ... is it that you won't tell me?"
Craig shrugged. "Have it as you want it."
For an instant the woman's nostrils flared. Then, once again, she was close to him—her breasts, her body, smooth and firm against him. "Please, Earthman! Do not make me believe that you are one of those who can love no woman!"
Craig held his silence.
A flush came to Vydys' dark, lovely face. She stepped back, eyes bright with anger. "Is it another, then—that blonde hag, Narla?"
Craig's fists clenched. His shoulders stiffened.
"It is, then! You'd scorn me for her!" Vydys' scarlet lips peeled back. "Very well! You shall have her—as soon as you give me the secret of the crystal!"
Sweat came to Craig Nesom's forehead. "I can't tell you what I don't know."
"You leave me little choice, then." Vydys was almost purring. "I must have protection against Zenaor and his ourobos. Unless you share the crystal's secret with me, I shall be forced to sell the wench back to her father for tanagree oil to drive off the slime-monsters."
Dry-lipped, Craig said, "So be it."
"But I had such pleasant fantasies of how I would amuse myself with her in my torture chambers!" Vydys' eyes grew wide and doleful. "There are so many things that one can try! And a young, nubile girl may live for hours...."
Craig bit down hard to keep from shuddering.
"But since you will not help me—" Vydys sighed, turned, walked up the dais. "At least, your death shall entertain my favorites."
Craig would have lunged for her, then.
But she struck a great gong sharply. Instantly, the dazzling light-wall blazed forth to shield her. Guards leaped from nowhere to seize the Earthman. Their blows made his head ring.
"To the pit with him!" Vydys cried shrilly. "To the pit!"
Craig's world resolved into a nightmare of dank corridors and blows and blackness.
Then, suddenly, he was in the open once again, tottering on the rim of a deep, walled trench that ran about a side-shaft of the Vydys' tower like a sort of moat.
"Look down, alien!"
Blear-eyed, Craig stared down into the pit.
Great tusks speared up at him. The bellow of an enraged djevoda rang in his ears.
Vydys said, "You and your Baemae friends are said to be clever with these creatures, alien. Especially with a whip." She turned to one of her retinue. "Give him the lash!"
The man brought out a long Baemae whip and handed it to Craig.
"Down with him!"
In seconds, Craig swung into the moat at the end of a rope-loop.
He was still staggering when the djevoda charged, thundering its rage.
Craig lashed out with the whip.
But without avail. The stinging lash brought a new roar of fury from the great creature. Savagely, it lunged again.
Barely in time, Craig leaped out of the way. Desperately, he ran through the trench in search of some exit, some chance for escape.
There was none.
Again the djevoda charged.
Once more Craig side-stepped in the nick of time.
Above him, on the pit's rim, Vydys laughed her silvery, sadistic laugh.
Hate surged through the Earthman ... hate mingled with fear.
Was he to die here—tusked high into the air; trampled under the great hammer-feet?
If at least the hell-bitch above only could die with him—!
He fell back to the moat's far edge ... but not at the djevoda. No. Higher, this time. Higher—and straight at Vydys!
The long lash slashed through the air. Almost lazily, it seemed, it drifted. The snapper lifted ... curled ... wrapped round Vydys' slim waist.
She screamed, then.
Too late. Because now Craig was surging back on the whipstock with all his strength, a savage jerk.
The woman lurched forward, across the parapet. Down the steep face she slid, straight into the trench.
Along the rim, tumult erupted. Guards shouted. Serfs raced this way and that. Fire-guns blazed down at the djevoda. A ladder appeared, shoved down from above.
Dropping the whipstock, Craig lunged for the ladder.
A guard was scrambling down it. Catching him from behind, Craig knocked him sprawling. When another head appeared above the parapet, Craig butted low, not slowing.
Blood—blows—violence. A race for the postern. As from afar, Craig caught the echo of Vydys' scream: "The alien! Stop him!"
So she still lived....
More guards. Veering, Craig darted through the nearest door and pounded through a maze of echoing corridors and stairways.
If only he could reach the roof, his saucer....
Locked doors. Dead-end hallways. Men racing towards him.
Craig sprinted towards a window.
Below lay the outer grounds.
Craig leaped.
As he did so, a familiar shadow swooped low—the shadow of a disc.
Bukal. He brought the disc down in a fast sideslip. "Quick—!"
Craig dived onto the saucer.
Then they were climbing—up, away from Vydys' Tower of Cadilek, away from guards and clenched fists and shouted imprecations.
Still panting, Craig said, "That was close, Bukal. Thanks."
Bukal didn't answer.
Craig craned round, peered up at him. "Bukal! What's the matter?"
The bronzed face stayed bleak and bitter. "It is the end, Earthman," he answered heavily. "The end of my people and their dream of freedom."
"The end—?" Staring, Craig fought down a numbness. "You don't mean—?"
"Yes." Bukal's slash-mouth twisted. "Zenaor has carried out his threat. In a hundred spots south of the barrier, the ourobos are unleashed against us!”