Lankar of Callisto

In a way, I suppose it was amusingly incongruous to see the noblest scions of some of the most ancient and blueblooded houses of the Three Cities toiling at the wheels where once labored nameless slaves doomed to toil without ceasing until death. But aboard the Armada every member of the expedition took his turn at the wheel-gangs, from the Admiral himself down to the lowliest ship-boy. 1, of course, took my turn at the wheels with everyone else, discovering in the process muscles I had not known I possessed―when they began to ache, that is! It was my misfortune to be sharing this adventure on a world whose pharmacists had yet to discover the uses of liniment; but I had strengthened and toughened myself during that long jungle trek and was in better physical condition than I had been in years, and soon my muscles limbered up and a turn at the wheels became only a brief and on the whole fairly pleasant period of exertion.

The wheel-gang to which Captain Thuron had assigned me by roster served its turn twice daily, the second of these duties falling after the evening meal. A couple of days after our departure from Shondakor, after night had fallen across the world. and the great, many-colored moons of Callisto soared one by one to illuminate the nocturnal skies, I was just leaving the wheel-deck bound for my cabin and blissful slumber when Taran came running in search of me.

Bright-eyed with excitement the boy grabbed my elbow, urging me to ascend to the mid-deck. This is the deck of the Xaxar which extends between the forecastle and the poop, and from whose railing you can look down on the landscape flowing by beneath the keel. It was cold and windy at this altitude, and I wrapped my blue cloak about me, shivering a little at the chilly bite of the wind, for I was damp with perspiration from my labor.

“Well, what is it, Taran?” I demanded.

The boy touched my shoulder and pointed to the moonlit terrain over which we were passing at that moment.

“The Edge of the World, Lankar-jan!” he breathed, his green eyes glistening.

My imagination stirred as he uttered this romantic and mysterious phrase. Unspeakingly I stood beside him, clutching the rail, staring down at the strange vista of hills and gullies, grassy plains and dark forests, which raced by underneath us. In no particular detail did the landscape differ from that above which we had been flying all that day; but now, by night, the scenery was transformed into one of weird grandeur by the light of the many moons. And a thrill passed through me at the knowledge that at that precise moment of time we were leaving the known world behind, and had entered the unknown world which lay beyond.

The days which followed saw us pass without molestation above a landscape which became rapidly more arid and desolate. Scarlet plains and dense forests gave way to plateaus of splintered rock and bleak deserts of parched sand. Nowhere did we discern the slightest signs of human habitation.

As the region over which we flew became increasingly more mountainous, and the peaks of the dreaded Zarkoon drew ever closer, sentries were mounted to keep watch against any repetition of the attack upon the Jalathadar which had befallen the First Armada during its flight over this very country. For these mountains were the hunting grounds of the terrible Zarkoon, as the winged, cannibalistic sub-men are called. In former times the Flying Men had been known only in myth, and a token of this could be seen in the fact that one of our sister-ships even now bore the name of the Zarkoon. But the creatures were now known to be dreadfully real and soon, as we flew over the mighty peaks and glimpsed the black crater that was the entrance which led into their cavernous and subterranean realm, all hands stood by under full arms against the ever-present possibility of attack.

Evidently the cannibal savages had learned their lesson from the dreadful toll the warriors of the First Armada had taken of their numbers on that earlier expedition, for the security of our vessels was not threatened this time, and if any Zarkoon yet lingered among the peaks and plateaus of the mountain country, none dared to show their beaked faces.

Before dawn we soared above the immense, jungleclad table-land discovered by the first expedition. The light of the many moons flashed in the waters of the great lake of Cor-Az as we ascended above the ring of mountains which encircled the plateau. No signs of life or activity could be glimpsed from our height as we traversed the’ jungles from west to east, but Ylana, gazed wistfully down at her former home as we passed above it, and I know the melancholy thoughts that passed through her mind as she wondered as to the fate of her father, Jugrid, chief of her primitive people.