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 Perushtarians, a mercantile people, seldom given to warlike ways, had long been held in subjugation to the Sky Pirates, who had annually wrung from them a heavy tribute in wealth and slaves. Since the victory of the forces of Shondakor some two years or more before this time, which had resulted in the complete destruction of the City in the Clouds and had ended for all time the depredations of the Sky Pirates, it would seem that the Perushtarians had begun to expand their domain.
Valkar knew that this news would distress the rulers of Shondakor. For one thing, among Jandar’s dearest and oldest friends was the gallant old sword-master, Lukor, a Ganatolian by birth, on whose behalf Jandar would surely mount some sort of assistance for the beleaguered city of Ganatol.
For another thing, there was the safety of Shondakor itself. Although the Golden City of the Ku Thad was probably the single most powerful of all of the cities of Callisto, Shondakor lay not far upriver from the center of the Perushtarian dominion. And, in any martial exercise, it would be but one city against four …
And those were unhealthy odds.
True, Shondakor had shared bonds of close alliance with the nearer of the four cities of the Bright Empire of Perushtar, the city of Soraba, whose Prince had joined with Shondakor, and with the free city of Tharkol in the great expedition to the Far Side of the Jungle Moon, where the combined forces of all three realms crushed forever the menace of the insidious Mind Wizards.
But in any real contest of arms, would Soraba continue to recognize her alliance with Shondakor, or would blood tell, and Perushtarian join with Perushtarian?
It was hard to guess what might happen under those circumstances.
But there was one thing that Prince Valkar knew for certain. And that was that the first advance warnings of warlike and imperial ambitions on the part of the Bright Empire had already been dangerously delayed. For Xara of Ganatol had been intercepted by warriors of the Yathoon before she had been able to bring the news to Jandar and Darloona, and ask for their help.
Thus Shondakor had, as yet, no intimations of the danger that impended from Perushtar.
And that news, Valkar grimly knew, was very, very important. No time must be wasted before Jandar and Darloona were apprised of these events. And it was of enormous and vital importance that Valkar and Xara bring the word to the attention of the Prince and Princess of the Golden City without any more delay …
Still, they were weary and needed their rest. Time enough, surely, to linger for a few hours of sleep, here amidst the endless plains. They could rise with dawn and be at the rendezvous point before midmorning …
And Xara was very beautiful.
And Valkar was only human.
The sweet, pure oval of her face filled his eyes. Her great eyes glowed like wet jewels. And the glory of the many-colored moons touched the rich sleekness of her silken hair with glimmering splendor. Valkar forgot to continue their conversation.
“I have not yet thanked you for saving my life,” the Ganatolian girl murmured softly.
Her full, tender, moist lips were ever so slightly parted.
Valkar opened his mouth to murmur some polite reply―never afterwards could he quite recall what he had been about to say.
For, just at that precise moment, thirty Yathoon flung themselves into the circle of the firelight.
And, in the next instant, Valkar found himself fighting for his life.
15 Zothon the Mysterious
It was not actually Prince Valkar’s fault. He had not really been careless or neglectful.
In the first place, Valkar had not fully realized exactly how far into the southlands they had flown. And he had no idea just how close they were to Sargol. Even if he had known, it is to be doubted that Valkar would have known enough about the Secret Valley, and how carefully it was watched and defended, to have been cognizant of his deadly danger.
Only in one respect had the gallant young Prince been careless. No woodsman, he had not realized just how far the light of an open fire can be seen on plains as broad and flat and unencumbered as those of Haratha.
And, of course, not being a Yathoon he could not possibly have known that this was that time of the Callistan year when the Clans of the Horde gather at Sargol for their games and ceremonies. At this period, every one of the gigantic, ferocious arthropods upon the entire planet were on the trek into the southlands; and thus it was that for the Shondakorians to have remained in the open about a blazing fire was the most dangerous thing they could have done.
He had no time to regret it now.
The ring of steel against steel filled the luminous silence of the night with harsh music ... already, in the first instant, Valkar had slain his nearest opponent with a reckless lunge. Now, as he parried the glittering blades of two others, he felt the warm pressure of Xara’s body as the Ganatolian girl put her back to his own in order to defend his rear.
She had bent and lithely snatched up the sword let fall from the lax claws of him whom Valkar had first slain. Now she matched her steel against a tall, monstrously ugly Yathoon warrior, wishing she was armed with a smaller and more slender rapier rather than an ungainly whip-sword. But there was no hope for it.
Nature has not made the Yathoon particularly beautiful, save in a grimly utilitarian sort of way. But her opponent was singularly ugly even among his own kind, for a jagged scar snagged its way down the inhuman casque of his horny brow and had obliterated one of his bulging compound eyes, leaving it milkily opaque with blindness.
She dispatched him with a level thrust to the abdomen which took him by surprise. Since she was armed with a Yathoon blade, he had naturally expected her to employ the weapon after the Yathoon manner―which she did not.
Now, of course, Kadar and Taran had joined them, and the ringing of steel and the grunt of exertion and the harsh gasp of pain were the only sounds to be heard.
Even Fido the othode had joined in the fight, and his terrible jaws and burly weight had accounted for two of their attackers.
But it was soon over. Four humans and a single othode cannot hold at bay for long thirty towering, heavily armed arthropods. In tight-lipped silence, Valkar threw down his sword and permitted his wrists to be bound.
Beside him, her head held stubbornly high, Xara of Ganatol did the like. The girl was crushed but refused to show it, and stubbornly blinked back the tears that stung her eyes.
“I am sorry, my Princess,” muttered Valkar quietly in low tones.
Her voice was serene and untroubled as she replied: “Va lu rokka, my Prince.” She smiled. But her heart was as a leaden weight within her breast. For it is cruel to have tasted so briefly of freedom after having for so long endured captivity―and to have the sweet cup dashed so soon from your lips.
“We will camp here and rejoin the caravan at dawn,” the leader of the Yathoon said in his rasping, emotionless voice to an underling.
“What of the othode? Shall we slay it?” inquired the other, indicating Fido the othode, whom they had netted with their lassos. Growling and frothing, the othode pup was trying to bite his way through his bonds. They were of rawhide, however, which is proof against even the savage tusks and powerful jaws of an othode.
“Slay none,” snapped the chieftain. “There has been enough slaying. We are on sacred ground.” And he regarded with cold eyes the seven corpses which lay sprawled upon the turf. Valkar and his companions had acquitted themselves well.