Chapter 14

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      The pandemonium of battle was punctuated by the staccato reports of the men’s cannonlike mattorks as Grandon reached the interior of the men’s sleeping quarters. He mounted to the topmost chamber from which Joto directed the activities of the two mattork crews while he shouted orders to the defenders.

      Here he found Vernia and Rotha. “See,” the marsh-girl cried, “they come by thousands and tens of thousands. They cover the entire landscape. Our defenses will be crushed.”

      “You forget that they are only brutes, Rotha,” replied Vernia, “and as such may be overcome by creatures of superior intellect. Men are the lords of creation, not sabits.”

      “But they are wiser than all other animals…”

      “Except men.” She turned to Grandon smiling. “We are going to win this battle, are we not, Robert Grandon?”

      “Most assuredly,” he replied. “However, I am not so positive that we will be able to hold this building. This is hardly a safe place.”

      “You forget,” said Vernia, “that I, too, am a soldier. I prefer to remain here, and if necessary, take part in the fighting.”

      “I am sure you are too good a soldier to disobey orders, and I am in command. You are ordered below.”

      A quick flash of resentment cane to her eyes at his tone and words.

      “You presume to command me? To dictate to the Princess of Reabon? I only command. Others obey.”

      In outraged dignity she turned and started toward the ramparts, but a strong pair of arms picked her up and carried her down the runways and to the foot of the stairway, while Rotha trailed behind. Grandon set Vernia gently down and, taking her by the shoulders, turned her so she looked up at him with flaming eyes and heaving bosom.

      “You would only be in my way, and would more than likely be carried off by the sabits. Now will you go forward peaceably, or must I carry you the rest of the way?”

      A slight flush suffused her cheeks, but when she raised her eyes to his, there, was a new look in them. “I will go, my commander.”

      “Spoken like a true soldier.” He paused for a moment to admire her, walking gracefully with Rotha down the passageway; then he turned to get back to the fighting.

      Grandon found the lower floor of the men’s sleeping quarters well defended, so climbed once more to the top of the structure where Joto was directing the battle. As far as he could see in every direction the ground swarmed with sabits. In a short time the brown-mouthed sabit community was overwhelmed and its buildings were razed to the ground, as were three of the outer structures of the white sabit community.

      The men in the central building held their own for a considerable time, but their outer ring of sabit guards were killed and torn to pieces almost instantly. At length it appeared inevitable that this building must fall. Sabits were gnawing their way through the walls and more and more soldiers were required to hold them back.

      “I will take a force to help them,” said Joto.

      “No. You are doing very well here. I will go to their assistance,” replied Grandon.

      Taking fifty men from the reserve force in the storeroom Grandon led them through the low underground runway. As they arrived the guards were being driven to the inner chambers, but they rallied with the aid of the new reinforcements and once more drove the sabits from the building.

      Sheb, the captain in command here, was on the roof directing the mattork crew, so Grandon climbed thither after assuring himself that the first floor was well defended. He found the crew standing idle while Sheb, fuming and cursing, was attempting to dislodge a jammed gas clip from the breech of the weapon.

      “Are you all so witless that you insert a clip backward after having been told the proper way a thousand times?” he roared. “For the price of a bowl of wine I would have you stripped of your armor and thrown to the sabits.”

      “Let me try,” said Grandon coolly. “I believe I can get that clip out for you.”

      Surprised at the sudden appearance of his commander, Sheb stood up and saluted hurriedly. With the point of his sword Grandon gently pried the recalcitrant clip, burned it, and closed the breech. Once more the crew sprayed bullets into the ranks of the attackers.

      A soldier rushed up from below. “The outer walls are nearly gone,” he gasped. “In a few minutes the building will cave in.”

      “Order a retreat. There is no use in defending this shell.”

      “The king and queen sabit prisoners—shall we take them with us?”

      “Leave them behind.”

      “If we leave them we will have no sabit slaves,” said Sheb.

      “Plenty more can be captured if we successfully withstand this attack,” replied Grandon.

      Another messenger arrived from below.

      “The sabits have burrowed into the runway,” he cried. “We will not be able to return to the other building.”

      “Everyone below at once,” shouted Grandon. “Bring the mattork and ammunition. Hurry!”

      The building trembled and one of the walls collapsed as they rushed to the ground floor. “Into the runway, every man of you,” he commanded. “Let the mattork crew go first and clear the way.”

      Soon the men were all crowded into the narrow runway while Grandon and Sheb, standing abreast, fought off the sabits that attempted to follow. The entire structure collapsed a few minutes later, crushing not only the imprisoned ruler sabits but many of the attackers as well. The entrance to the runway was completely bottled up by fallen debris.

      Shouldering his way through his crowded soldiers, Grandon at length arrived at the point where the sabits had burrowed into the runway. Here the mattork crew worked desperately, flanked by a half dozen soldiers. The cut in the runway was more than twenty feet across, and swarmed with sabits. Across this breach he could see Oro and his men fighting to keep the attackers from entering on the other side.

      Meanwhile the sabits on the ground above the runways were burrowing in a hundred places. Already a third of the men who guarded the central building had been dragged away by the attackers.

      After a short conversation with the captain Sheb, Grandon ran across the twenty-foot breach the sabits had made in their defenses, leaping this way and that to avoid the snapping forceps.

      Oro and the others welcomed him with enthusiasm.

      He ran swiftly through the passageway and, upon coming up, quickly placed crews in the ancient Albine fighting chariots he had sent from the armory some time before. Taking a place with the men in the foremost machine, he led them through the door straight into the army of sabits, the guards standing aside to let them pass. They formed a flying wedge with Grandon’s machine at the apex, cutting a wide swath in the ranks of the attackers.

      The efficacy of the machines was surprising, even to Grandon, who had formed some idea of their possibilities. The whirling knives and clubs literally cut the opposing sabits to ribbons.

      Arriving at the mouth of the runway which held the imprisoned men, they quickly drove back the attackers, then kept them at bay by running a circle about the breach while Sheb led his followers to safety. When the last man had crossed they formed a wedge once more and cut their way back to their comrades, entering the door amid shouts of acclamation