Renegade of Callisto
- Автор: Картер Лин Спрэг
- Серия: Callisto #8
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Renegade of Callisto». Краткое содержание книги:
Far from his adopted home, the Golden City of Shondakor, Koja, self-exiled insectoid of the Yathoon Horde, has blundered into the savage land he had renounced, accompanied only by little Taran, ward of Prince Jandar. Lost in the treacherous scarlet plains, the two are hurled to separate, unnamable fates —Taran forsaken in shackles, along with the lovely Princess Xara, while the renegade Koja is locked on a perilous course of vengeance for the evils done to his clan. All destinies collide at the Great Yathoon Games in the hidden valley of Sargol — the impenetrable citadel girdled by a seething mote of flames.
In the spine-tingling tradition of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Lin Carter again transports us to a strange and sublime landscape pulsating with the flash of swords, secret splendors, and ever-lurking danger.
The boy was so open and guileless in his manner that even Xara could not believe him a dupe or a spy.
He was obviously what he said he was, which meant that Koja was, too. Xara began to feel ashamed of having entertained suspicions of the Yathoon warrior who had taken the blows of Hoog’s whip in order to spare her that indignity.
Very soon, Koja and Taran and Xara formed a small nucleus of conspiracy within the body of the Garukh slaves. Borak found himself aligned with them, for, although such emotions as loyalty and friendship were alien and all but incomprehensible to such as he, self-interest provides a powerful incentive for learning new things. Certain common bonds of comradeship existed between Borak and Koja already, and these were further strengthened by their mutual determination to escape from slavery to Fanga.
It was these feelings that set them apart from the other slaves, and the very isolation they felt from the others drew them more closely together. The others who shared the slave pens with them were mostly Yathoon, with a sprinkling of human captives, Tharkolian, or Perushtarian, including a few of the Ku Thad who lived and hunted in the Grand Kumala. For the most part these others were a listless and dispirited lot who had been brutalized and depersonalized through years of hopeless captivity and unremitting toil until they were little more than beasts of burden, devoid of will or the power to make decisions on their own.
Escape was always a possibility, however remote, for two reasons. In the first place, the Garukh Clan was small in number and could spare few warriors for guard duty over the slave pens, and even fewer for sentry duty over the perimeter of the camp. Then again there was the inflexible Yathoon attitude toward slavery in generaclass="underline" a slave was a subhuman, a soulless thing, and the Yathoon considered them almost incapable of independent thought. Those of the slaves who were themselves Yathoon felt very much the same about their condition, which seemed to them hopeless.
The arthropods of Thanator share a deadly sense of fatalism, of Kismet, which saps the will and robs them of the ability to think and plan for themselves. From his years of associating with humans, Koja had largely outgrown this simplistic philosophy, but Borak felt it deeply. The former Haroob chieftain, however, had a powerful motive for freedom in his ‘unsleeping desire to be revenged upon Gorpak and Hooka for their villainous treachery.
It was this hunger for vengeance that enabled Borak to shrug off the lethargic effects of va lu rokka. This phrase sums up the fatalistic philosophy which dominates the Yathoon race. It may be translated as “It was destined,” and it is the stolid and uncomplaining Yathoon comment on each and every turn of events.
But Koja, Taran, and Xara did not believe va lit rokka, and persuaded Borak to join with them in seeking to escape. It did not prove very difficult, for Borak, like Koja, was more intelligent than most of his kind, more of an individual, capable of independent thought.
All that was needed was for the proper opportunity to present itself. Before this came about, however, Fate took another turn, and one that would probably prove to be for the worst.
For Fanga gave the command to break camp, and the Clan made ready to depart for the unknown south, where lay the secret heartland of the Yathoon race.
10 The Garukh Ride South
For two weeks we had flown south from Shondakor, searching the broad and fertile grasslands of the Great Plains of Haratha for some sign of our missing friends. Thus far, at least, our quest had proved futile, for no slightest sign had we yet discovered that would prove a clue to the whereabouts of Koja or Taran or the two othodes.
My personal squadron had now reached the middle point of the plains, halfway between Shondakor and the South Pole. From here the mighty prairie of crimson grasses stretched in every direction for hundreds of korads.
“The area is simply too vast for the squadron to search in formation,” argued burly, truculent Ergon. “It is a waste of time and manpower, my lad―my Prince, I mean.”
“If it is your considered opinion that we should split the squadron up and search in individual craft, friend Ergon,” said Lukor of Ganatol spiritedly, “then I must agree with you, for your opinion concurs with mine own.”
We had landed that eve on the shore of one of the twin rivers, had hunted down a herd of migrating vanth and made our kill, and were roasting dripping haunches of meat over a roaring bonfire while resting after the day’s vigilance and toil.
My squadron is an honor guard composed of thirteen scoutcraft and my personal yacht, the Shondakor.
Generally, these ornithopters are manned by a select crew of Sky Navy personnel, assigned to the palace squadron according to a system of rotation. On this particular occasion, however, many of my friends and courtiers had volunteered to take part in the search. Among these were the bald, burly Perushtarian gladiator Ergon, with whom I had fought side by side in the Arena of Zanadar, and who had become one of my closest comrades. Lukor, of course, could not be left behind:, the peppery, gallant little sword-master loved nothing more than a good fight, unless it was an adventure in which, at some point, a good fight might be expected to occur.
Prince Valkar, the stalwart young Shondakorian noble who was related to my Princess, also had joined the quest. We had met years before while both of us happened to be serving in the Chac Yuul, disguised as common mercenaries. As well, that scrawny guttersnipe Glypto was with us on this search, for as Kaamurath’s master spy, the sharp-tongued and wily little thief had accompanied his royal master on his recent state visit to the Golden City of the Ku Thad.
Over our dinner we considered the problem of searching so vast an area as the entire southern hemisphere of Thanator with only fourteen ships, and argued the various points of view which were presented as, one by one, the glowing, multicolored moons ascended the skies like jack-o’-lanterns.
And by the time we were done and were ready to seek our cloaks for a well-earned night’s sleep, we had reached the only reasonable solution to the problem that confronted us. We had resolved, in fine, to divide our squadron up, each craft to search by air a particular quadrant of the plains, with a point of rendezvous previously decided upon, where all ships would return to reunite the squadron.
If any ship did not return at the appointed time, that would constitute a signal that the craft had sighted something that might be a clue to the whereabouts of the missing friends we sought. A careful record was made of the territory assigned to each craft in the squadron so that we should at once know to which region we should direct our attentions should one of the craft fail to appear at the rendezvous at the appointed time.
Tomar and Glypto were to search in the north, while Lukor and Ergon would take the east. Valkar and I were assigned to search in the southern parts, while my other friends were given their duty in the west. Each of us rode alone in a separate craft, together with one Shondakorian officer, except of course for the Shondakor, for my sky-yacht required a full complement of a dozen crew, due to its size.
Shortly after dawn we arose, broke our fast, filled our waterskins at the shore of the river, entered our craft, and departed to take up the search again.
Valkar’s companion, as it turned out, was a young officer named Kadar. Together they flew directly into the southwest, since the Shondakor was to cover the southeastern region of the plains. There was little conversation between them, for both were too busy searching the limitless plain of scarlet meadowland beneath their hurtling craft to waste words. They flew at the modest height of one hundred and fifty feet, for at so low an altitude the smallest object would be clearly visible, and by flying at this height they hoped to be able to spy the most minute scrap of wreckage from the Lankar-jan.