The Greatest Works of Otis Adelbert Kline - 18 Books in One Edition. Otis Adelbert Kline
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burying his dagger in his breast. Simultaneously, we withdrew our dripping weapons, thinking this was all, when suddenly a third guard rounded the corner.
This time we had no element of surprise in our favor, for he had seen us as quickly as we had him.
He quickly clapped his hand to his tork, at the same time raising his voice to alarm the guards. “Help! Two pris—”
He said no more, nor had he even an opportunity to press the tork button, for with lightning quickness that the eye could scarce follow, Lotar had hurled his bloody dagger straight at the enemy’s face. It entered his opened mouth with such force that the point protruded from the back of his neck and the hilt clicked against his teeth. With a look of amazement and horror on his twisted features, he slumped to the floor.
“Get their weapons, Lotar,” I ordered, and hurried to summon our men. With the weapons of the three guards we partly armed six of them, and once more hurried away under the guidance of Lotar.
But we had not gone far when there was a great clamor and much shouting behind us, and we knew our escape had been detected. We bounded forward now, without any attempt at silence. A moment later Lotar called a halt before a huge, cylindrical pillar about three feet in diameter, which to all outward appearances was exactly like the many other pillars which supported the stone roof of the corridor.
Whipping out his dagger, he pressed the point into a tiny crack in the floor in front of it, whereupon, much to my amazement, I saw that the pillar was turning quite rapidly, and as it turned, moved up into the rock above it like a gigantic screw. In a few seconds its base was above the floor, and beneath it there yawned a black well.
“Into it, every man of you, quickly,” ordered Lotar.
The man nearest the wall paused gingerly on the edge.
“Leap,” ordered the captain. “It is not far.”
In he went, and we could see that the spot where he had landed was scarcely seven feet below the floor level. After him, as fast as they could find room, crowded the other men. But meanwhile, the sounds from behind us told us that our pursuers were dangerously near.
It seemed an age before the last man leaped into the hole, followed quickly by Lotar and me.
Stooping down, the young mojak pressed a lever in the floor. The pillar started downward, the direction of its turning reversed, and soon we stood in total darkness. Judging from the sounds above, the thing had been accomplished just in time. The large party of guards above clattered on past without even stopping to investigate.
“They do not suspect,” said Lotar, “which is well. It may be that we shall want to pass this way again. Come, I will lead the way.”
As none of us had the means to make a light, we moved forward like blind men, following the voice of Lotar, who seemed to know the way by heart. “A steep slope ahead,” he would sing out, or, “A sharp turn here. Look out for it.” We followed him in the inky blackness.
The tunnel had apparently been hewn through the rock stratum that underlay this part of Olba. How it was ventilated I had no means of knowing, but though the air was cool and moist it seemed quite fresh.
When we had traveled for more than an hour in this fashion, I asked Lotar how much farther we had to go.
“We are but a third of the way, Highness,” he responded. “This tunnel leads to the Black Tower.”
“And whom do you expect to find in the Black Tower?”
“Friends. It is hardly likely that Taliboz has manned it with his henchmen so soon, but even if he has, some of us are armed and we have the advantage of surprise on our side.”
“Unless,” I observed, “he discovers that we have come this way and sets a trap for us.”
“It is not likely. The guards in the dungeon were completely baffled. By now I doubt not that the traitorous Taliboz is exceedingly mystified and furiously angry.”
It was nearly ten Earth miles from the Imperial Palace to the Black Tower, so that, traveling blindly as we were, it took us more than three and a half hours to make the trip.
When we reached our destination, Lotar cautioned silence and groped about in the darkness for some time. Then I heard the click of a lever and the turning of a cylinder, and presently a circle of light appeared above our heads —most welcome after three and a half hours of intense darkness.
Gripping the edge of the floor, Lotar drew himself up and peered cautiously about. Evidently satisfied that he was unobserved, he clambered on out of the hole, beckoning to us to follow. It was not long before we had our entire company lined up in a large room, the ceiling of which was supported by pillars similar to the one which had been raised to let us in. Lotar then pressed the hidden button that started the pillar rotating in the opposite direction, and watched it turn back into place, leaving no sign of the way by which we had come.
There were three windows in the room through which the first faint streaks of dawn were visible. There were also three doors. Lotar slowly and carefully opened one of these. But scarcely had he looked out ere a sharp challenge was hurled at him from the corridor.
“Move and you die! Who are you?”
“Lotar, Mojak in the Imperial Air Navy,” replied the young officer.
“What do you here?”
“That,” replied Lotar, “I will tell your mojak if you will fetch him. Who is in command here?”
“Pasuki commands,” replied the guard.
“A good and loyal soldier. Take me before him.”
He motioned with his hand for us to remain in the room. Then he stepped out, closing the door after him. Evidently the guard had not the slightest suspicion of our presence.
Not more than ten minutes elapsed ere the door opened once more and Lotar entered, followed by a tall, straight, white-bearded man who wore the uniform of Mojak of the Black Tower Guards, easily distinguished by the small replica of the tower worn on the helmet and the same device in relief on the breastplate.
The old soldier bowed low with right hand extended palm downward.
“Pasuki is yours to command as of old, Highness,” he said, “and overjoyed that the report of Your Highness’s death was false.”
I did not, of course, remember Pasuki, but it was quite evident that he remembered the former Zinlo. “You were ever a true and loyal soldier, Pasuki,” I replied. “See that these men I have brought with me are fed, housed and armed.”
After a brief order for the disposal of Lotar’s men to a mojo who waited outside, Pasuki conducted us to the telekinetic elevator and by it to my apartments.
“I’ll send for you men soon,” I told them. “Meanwhile we must try to devise some plan of attack on this wily Taliboz, and find a way to rescue Her Highness of Tyrhana.”
Pasuki and Lotar bowed low and withdrew.
After a bath and a change of clothing, I was served with the usual huge and variegated breakfast with which Zarovian royalty tempts its appetite, to the accompaniment of gold service and scarlet napery.
But ere I had completed this meal, a page came to announce that a man who had just been admitted to the tower, craved immediate audience with me. “Who is he?” I asked.
“He gave the name of Vorvan to Pasuki, who questioned him and seemed satisfied of his loyalty,” replied the page.
“Then show him in,” I answered. The name Vorvan had a familiar ring, and I was trying to remember where I had heard it before when a man clad in the conventional blue garb of a tradesman entered.
He appeared about fifty years of age, and his square-cut beard had an unnatural reddish tinge, as if it had been dyed. His eyebrows were similarly treated, and a bandage was drawn across one cheek and the bridge of the nose, as if he had been recently