MOON MAID AT THE EARTH'S CORE Andy Nunez
Illustrated by Tangor
PROLOGUE
It should be safe enough to tell this now. I am an old man, having lived far longer than the Biblical three score and ten. Perhaps it was in part to clean living, or perhaps to a synthesis of a pill given to me by a good friend of mine; nevertheless, as I approach the century mark, my mind remains as clear as ever, and it easily goes back to that time some fifty years ago, when I lived in Encino, California and was a good friend to the writer Edgar Rice Burroughs. I am gratified that the world still knows his name, though my own has long been forgotten. Had I patented my discoveries, I suppose they would have marked me as one of the fathers not only of communication, but of lighter than air design, but for reasons of my own, I kept my discoveries secret. Airship construction was virtually non-existent after the Hindenburg disaster, and people became more interested in television than radio. Still, I tinkered with my set, upgrading it from a simple wireless with a sending key to one capable of transmitting sounds across the void. Ed was kind enough to mention me in several of his stories, embellishing my abilities to fit the needs of his tale. Usually, he only referred to my radio, with which I had been able to communicate not only with the planet Barsoom, but also with Abner Perry at the Earth's Core. From time to time I communicated not only with such well-known characters as John Carter of Mars and Ulysses Paxton, but also Abner Perry and his friend David Innes, the Emperor of Pellucidar, as the world beneath our crust is known. Some time had passed since I last heard from Perry, when one day I returned from horseback riding with my wife to hear Perry's thin voice coming from the speaker of the radio. I remember that day well. It was a lovely Saturday evening in March, the year being 1950. I rushed over to the radio and snatched up the microphone. "Here I am, Perry," I said. "What's up? Nothing wrong, I hope." "Nothing earth-shattering, my boy," came his voice, crackling through the ether. "I have just received a story from someone and it is so extraordinary, that I had to convey it to you and Ed. Are you ready to write?" "Better than that," I told him. "We now have tape recorders up here so that I can record your message on magnetic tape and transcribe it later." "I really must come back and take a look at your marvels topside," he said. "Well, here goes..." Perry commenced broadcasting, either reading from a manuscript or re-telling the story as he heard it in first person. As the hours passed he paused only to drink some water, or if I had to stop him to change reels on the tape recorder. By the time Perry had finished it was late into the night. Jana had been kind enough to bring me a sandwich and some iced tea between tending to our children. I could only hope that someone had been as kind to Abner Perry. I later agreed with Perry that this story was so extraordinary it must to be told. I could think of no better person to do it than the Admiral himself, Edgar Rice Burroughs. Signing off from Perry, I snatched a few hours sleep, determined to lay the story in Ed's lap right after breakfast. Sunday, March 19, 1950, was a pleasant day in California. I placed the tape recorder and the reels of tape on the front seat of my Willys Jeep and sped over to Ed's home on Zelzah. There was no answer to my knock, but the door was unlocked, and I nudged it open, calling Ed's name. There was still no answer. I found the living room empty, and thinking Ed asleep, I went into his bedroom. To my horror, he lay prostrate upon the bed, Sunday paper spread before him. Death had found him, and by the peaceful expression on his face, Ed had not put up a struggle. I took up his hand, finding it cool to my touch. Tears started, tracing down my cheeks as grief overcame me. I turned away from Ed, distraught in the knowledge that so great a heart had been stilled forever. A scrape of leather wrenched me from my anguish and I saw Ed's housekeeper before me, her face likewise a mask of pain. "Oh, my God," she stumbled. "The family. I must call them." I brushed past her, my plans aborted, turning to look back at him, lying so still, and voiced aloud the only fitting phrase that sprang to mind, that of Edwin Stanton over the death of Lincoln: "Now he belongs to the ages." On the way back home, I pondered over what to do with this manuscript. Here would be evidence, on tape, that Pellucidar existed. The world at large would know that a vast, virtually unsullied world lay beneath their feet. The narrative would galvanize every explorer and fortune hunter in the world, every huckster and circus ringmaster. No, I could not let it out. Men such as the noble Admiral Byrd were one thing, but there were dozens more who would pillage and destroy one of the last untouched places on, or in, the earth. Now, I am old, and I have decided that it is safe to release a transcript of the narrative. I destroyed the tapes some years ago, so that there no longer is even this shred of concrete evidence. The modern reader will no doubt consider it too fantastic to be believed, but I can vouch for the veracity of its sender, Abner Perry, who, at the ripe old age of one hundred and sixty, still calls me from time to time. I have discussed this long enough. Here is the story of Byron Wells, late of the United States Navy. You will find within it a story that answers some questions that readers of the Inner World stories have long pondered, and I hope they please and entertain you.
--Jason Gridley
CHAPTER ONE - HOW THE WAR ENDED FOR ME
My name is Byron Jasper Wells. I joined the U.S. Navy in December of 1941, right after Pearl Harbor. As a kid, I had devoured all those old pulp science fiction and adventure magazines, so when it came time to fight the Japanese, I felt that I was stepping into the shoes of my fictional heroes, Doc Savage, the Shadow, G-8, John Carter, and David Innes. I saw myself as a man of action, like them. I saw the elephant right after training. I was not assigned to fight in the Pacific, but became a P-38J pilot operating from Canada, Greenland, and Iceland, protecting sub-hunters from what, I wasn't sure. The Nazis had no carriers, but you never knew when they were going to try to slip a battleship or cruiser out of Norway to get at the convoys. These heavy ships usually carried a couple of seaplanes, and I knew that my fighter could make short work of them. For the most part, I circled around some of the most god-forsaken territory on the planet. Nothing but gray seas, frozen tundra and rocky coasts passed beneath my "forked tailed-devil" while I was on patrol. My fighter was a good plane, with two powerful engines, and I could stay up for 12 hours with wing tanks if I didn't get into combat. Otherwise, it was dependent on how much action. Of course up here in the icebox at the top of the world, there wasn't much of that. My greatest threat was the cold. I did worry about that. Ice could form in my gas line, or on my wings, and it could spell disaster for me. Crash landing in Arctic regions meant certain death if help didn't arrive soon. I wore a heavy flying suit, but carried a lightweight paratroop carbine just in case I crashed. I knew that my standard issue .45 wouldn't help if I had to bring down a moose to stay alive. I stayed on patrol through the invasion of North Africa, Sicily, and Italy. In the spring of '44, though, everything changed for me. My routine was pretty much the same. At the time, I was based in Reykjavik, Iceland, where I spent a lot of time making sure my plane wasn't freezing solid and reading old pulps that sailors dropped off when they brought in supplies. I remember it was a normal patrol between Iceland and Greenland, when I got a flash traffic message instructing me to vector north where a distress call was coming in from a fishing trawler. The ice was starting to break up, so the fishermen were ranging farther and farther north. I checked my compass and headed for the location. I had only been up for less than 30 minutes, so I had plenty of fuel. I found the fishing trawler with no problem. It made a nice black spot amid the steel-colored waves. She wasn't alone, though. Just a few hundred yards off her bow was a sleek black shape. I recognized it right away as a Nazi type XXI U-boat. I radioed base for a PBY Catalina to come out and get this baby when I saw her deck gun was unlimbering. I dove down for a closer look, seeing with horror a puff of smoke coming from her. The next second, a geyser of water erupted off the trawler's bow. I knew that the next shot would probably sink her. I checked my guns and zoomed in. Lockheed gave the P-38 lots of teeth, and I had them all gnashing at the U-boat's deck. Fifty caliber slugs and 37mm cannon shells chewed up the area around the deck gun, sending its crew spinning from her slippery sides. I didn't know if I could penetrate the ship's hull with my guns, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try. I swung up and then around for another pass. I wasn't sure how long it would be before the PBY showed up, so I thought I'd keep the Nazis busy until it did. I sent another stream down at the deck gun, noticing that a crew was manning a pair of machine guns at the rear of the conning tower. I tried to angle and hose them, too, but my pass was too fast and I was over the ship and off almost before I saw them. They had a good look at me, though, and a staccato drumbeat rattled through my hull. I yanked back on the stick to get some altitude, then two slugs passed through my seat to smash into the instrument panel. How they missed me, I'll never know, but they scared me so bad, I forgot how fast I was pulling up and I started to black out. I leveled out at 10,000 feet, but the G-force was too much. My head felt like it was going to explode, and I went unconscious. * * * * * * * * I don't know how long I was out, but it must have been a while, because when I woke up, there was nothing below me but ice fields. I checked my compass, but it was shot, along with my fuel gauge. So, I had no idea which direction I was going, and couldn't tell how much fuel I had left. I checked my watch and tried to get some idea how long it had been. I figured that I had been out for nearly an hour, but the plane had stayed level with my hands still on the controls. I tried the radio, but all I got was static. I was in big trouble. I checked behind me to see that my tail was chewed a little bit. I tried the controls and found them stiff. I wondered at the time if that hadn't helped me stay in the air while I was out. I had heard of people falling asleep or blacking out, but never for very long. The sky was nothing but a dome of mottled clouds, so I was without direction, flying a plane that would eventually run out of fuel. Since one direction seemed as good as another, I stayed my course. After about another two hours, I noticed a strange phenomenon. My altimeter suddenly changed radically. It shot from 10,000 to 20,000 feet and kept climbing. The air pressure didn't differ, however. I looked down, and saw that the frozen waste seemed to be dipping, almost precipitously. What was I flying into? I remembered the stories of my youth, of Edgar Rice Burroughs land at the earth's core, but I had put it all down as just that, a story. There was no Iron Mole, no Pellucidar. If anything, the center of the earth should have been hot lava, or something like that. Inner worlds were for Jules Verne, Roy Rockwood, and Burroughs. It wasn't much later that I saw another phenomenon. Bare ground appeared. It had the frozen look of Greenland's tundra, but it was unmistakably land. I wondered if I was making a semi-circle and was now heading south along Greenland's interior. I decided to be prudent and drop down to 10,000 feet in case the air pressure changed, but staying at that altitude meant constantly dropping, and dropping, until the gray sky above me became lost in a rising mist from below. For a time, I flew by instrument, hoping the fog would lift, and it did, but what I saw when I came through that gauzy curtain was beyond my wildest imaginings. Open water again greeted me, but it was fanged with jutting rocks and chunks of ice. I saw several hulks of ships jammed in these shoals, but that was tame compared to the real shocker. Ahead of me was a sun. I knew it wasn't the sun of earth, because the clouds had covered that. This was another sun, and it was pulsing with heat enough to evaporate the ice from my wings. Below me I could see valleys fringed with green, and plains beyond that, and mountains beyond that. In fact, the horizon didn't curve down, but seemed to curve upward, lost in the distant haze and glare of the sun. Had I been a cautious fellow, I would have turned around and flew back the way I came, but I was too fascinated by what I saw. Here was another world, a world nobody had ever seen from the surface, at least as far as I knew. I remembered Burroughs' tales of Pellucidar. He talked about a fellow named Jason Gridley who took a dirigible down through an opening in the North Pole, but I always figured it was hogwash. Dirigibles didn't fare too well in the arctic, and the Norge was lost with five people, never to be seen again. So, here I was, a naval officer, flying a shot-up plane through what had to have been a hole in the arctic to - where? Were there any inhabitants? The shipwrecks I had passed indicated that humans had traveled this way before, but had any survivors penetrated this land? I flew on for perhaps two more precious hours, looking for a likely spot to land. I crossed a large bay, seeing something that looked like a city off to my right. I circled over, and was surprised to see a bustling metropolis, though it appeared to be one left over from two centuries ago, full of red tiled roofs and minaret spires. Ships like ancient wooden frigates and galleons plied the bay. I swung in closer, and I saw people in the streets running in fear and pointing up at me. Their dress was something straight out of Treasure Island. When a group of men formed up carrying some muskets, I decided I wasn't welcome and went back out over the bay, which led into a sea that stretched for a considerable distance south. So, man had penetrated this land, and had not only settled, but prospered, after a fashion. This was something straight out of the pulps. I found a nice flat grassy area to set the plane down some distance along the rim of the sea from the strange town. Since they were toting muskets that meant they knew something about chemistry and metal refining, so I was hoping that civilization here was at a level that, if I could make some friends, I could fix my plane and fly back out. The fact that these denizens still traveled in sailing ships did not bode well for gasoline production. For the time being, though, the war was over for me, and I had another battle to fight, this time for survival. I opened the plane's cockpit after shutting her off and was immediately struck by the warmth of the air about me. It felt like summer time back home. I shucked off the heavy flying suit and got out my emergency supplies. In the kit was the usual stuff, including a compass and knife, a flare gun, and some medical items. I buckled on my .45 and slung the carbine over my back. I only had four spare clips for the carbine, so I was hoping that I could find some friendly natives soon. There were some emergency rations that I knew wouldn't last too long, either. I consumed a couple of tins while I surveyed my surroundings. The grass came to my ankles, and fairly familiar bees tended it. Clumps of trees dotted the perimeter, looking not unlike trees from the surface. I decided that seeds from above must surely have come down the polar opening, since ships had done so. I was just finishing my hasty meal when a shadow fell over me.
CHAPTER TWO - AVOIDING BEING LUNCH
I looked up, shading my eyes against the bright, impossible sun of this inner world. Above me, wings beating the clear sky, was a vision right out of a J. Allen St. John painting for some pulp story. It was huge and bat-like, but with a head that looked like a stub pencil sharpened at both ends. As I watched, it folded it wings and dove right at me. I clawed the .45 from my holster and fired at the rocketing monstrosity. At the last second, it leveled off by extending its translucent wings and bringing up its hand-size paws. I avoided the swooping razor-sharp clutches by rolling under my plane. I pulled the carbine from my shoulder and checked the mechanism. The creature, circling at renewed altitude, shrieked like a burst boiler. I was afraid it would damage my plane so I used the wing as cover to pop up and squeeze off some better-aimed shots. One struck the creature's narrow, keel-like chest. The other, by luck, pierced its snaky neck. The winged apparition whistled again as it flew away, but its wounds were too great. The creature half-fell to the ground some two hundred yards from my plane. I decided to examine this monster, rushing forward, weapon at the ready. I found it in a broken, bloody tangle, the tooth-filled beak snapping uselessly as its tiny eyes rolled and glared. The flying lizard-thing sure seemed to be something out of prehistoric times. I knew people caught prehistoric fish once in a while near Africa, but this creature was another matter. As far as I could tell it was a Pteranodon, with a wingspread of nearly forty feet! It took it a while to die, but finally it gave a shudder and lay still. I considered cutting it up for dinner, but decided that I wasn't that hungry. My most immediate problem was fuel. I checked my P-38's tanks and decided that if I kept a lean mixture and flew at low speed, I had perhaps another two or three hours. I had to find another city, since the other didn't seem to care for people in airplanes. I figured something must have spooked them for airplanes in the past. I thought back then, remembering as best I could what stories I had read about the inner world. The most prolific writer about them was Burroughs. David Innes, a Burroughs character, had carved out an empire in Pellucidar--the earth's core. Pellucidar was a lot like the place I found myself, right down to the city full of pirates and the central sun and the crazy horizon. Maybe Burroughs had read an account of somebody else who had stumbled onto the opening and later incorporated it into his fiction. I remembered that another character in these fantastic stories--Jason Gridley--had threatened to bomb a pirate city named Korsar from a dirigible if the pirates did not release David Innes. I read these stories as a kid and found them great entertainment, but it now appeared there was some truth to the stories, and that would explain why the city was shy of planes. Pellucidar was just a story, though. I was in a real world at the center of the earth, even though a lot of the stuff I encountered matched Burroughs' stories. So, I decided to call up the terms I could remember from his stories to dub this world and its denizens. The city would be called Korsar in the book I would write when I got out. The world would be called Pellucidar, and the flying lizard I shot would be called a thipdar. Now, if coincidence could be stretched farther, then southward lay David Innes' empire of Sari, and the moon of Pellucidar. Between that mythical place and me lay the sea of Korsar, the Mountains of the Thipdars, and some cities populated by some intelligent flying lizards called Mahars. Sure they were! I thought.
The current experience (dream or reality) had made me weary. I needed sleep, but there was no way I was sleeping in the open. I chose to nap in the P-38's cockpit, the carbine cradled in my arms. The heat was unbearable, but I was too tired to care. I fell asleep, wondering when it got dark. I was awakened by a cacophony of howls and shrieks. I looked around and saw another tableau from the pulps. Two large cats with heavy bodies and upper tusks the size of carving knives were attacking what looked like a dinosaur about ten feet in height. The saber-tooths, as they had to have been, were not coming off the best of the exchange. Apparently, the fight was over the carcass of the pteranodon, or thipdar, as I was beginning to think of it. The dinosaur looked like a hammered-down Allosaurus, with huge sickle-like fore-toes. One of the cats went down after a raking slash from one of the lizard's hind feet laid it open from breast to groin. The other saber-tooth had sunk its formidable fangs into the dinosaur's throat, and forks of black blood ran down the creature's mottled scales. I knew that the winner would probably come sniffing for me eventually, so I got out of the plane and crept forward, carbine ready. This place was becoming too rowdy for me. I was going to finish this fight and take off for a more peaceful climate. I guess I should have stayed where I was at, but I was a little ticked off at being rudely awakened, and I was beginning to get a liking for the tigers because of their tenacity. Also there was the practical matter of them damaging the plane if the winner did find me hiding out in the Lightning. The dinosaur had grasped the tiger with its small forearms, but could not dislodge its grip. The pair went down in a heap, and I saw the lizard draw its legs under the saber-tooth, and with a huge double kick, literally tore the cat to shreds. Blood and fur exploded everywhere, yet the tiger's head remained attached to the dinosaur. I decided at that point to avenge those brave creatures and fired three shots into the dinosaur's skull from fifty yards. All three struck home. The effect was immediate. It staggered to its feet and charged at me. The monster was half again my size and was a horrific vision, plastered with the blood of the cat mingled with its own. I fired the rest of my clip into it as it came. Before I could throw down my carbine and draw my pistol, it crashed to the ground not twenty feet in front of me. This time there was no prolonged twitching. It was quite dead, but I had no idea whether it died of my bullets or the fangs of the tiger. I thought about collecting the tiger's teeth as souvenirs when I heard a plaintive mewling from a clump of brush another hundred feet beyond the thipdar's carcass. I reloaded my carbine and went over to investigate. I peeled back the limbs of thick bushes to find a tawny ball of fur rolling about. The ball uncoiled, and it had four large paws and a head with big blue eyes and some sharp, white teeth. It mewled and hissed alternatively, looking for all the world like a big kitten. I knew better, though. It could only have been a baby saber-tooth tiger. Obviously, its parents were the pitiful corpses forty yards from where this tyke was hidden. Orphaned by the cruel fate of Pellucidar, I knew the cub had no chance of surviving on its own in this savage world. This world, whether the real Pellucidar or not, would not inculcate in me its callous disregard for life. As quick as I could, I snatched the cub by the nape of its neck and held it up. It came to life with an outburst of spitting, twisting to give my hand a rake with its small, but still serviceable claws. I dropped it and examined my hand, which now showed three welts, one oozing blood in ruby droplets. The tiger cub ran over to the still forms of its parents, attempting to alert them to my presence, but it was shocked when it found them so dismembered. It poked and prodded at them, trying to get a response, and became quite disconsolate when none was forthcoming. I was able to come upon it once more, and this time managed to get a more secure hold. The thing was too distraught to fight me now, and I carried it back to the plane. I found a tin of powdered milk in my supplies and mixed some up in my mess kit. The little saber tooth lapped up the milk readily, and I prepared a bed for it in the back of my cockpit by laying out my fleece-lined flying suit. It accepted its berth suspiciously, but finally settled down, and I put the milk beside it. Meanwhile, I was determined to get away from this monstrous plain immediately. The sun was still at noon, and it seemed to me larger than my old sun on the surface. Knowing I had barely four hours fuel remaining, I decided to continue the direction I had been traveling in the hopes of coming upon another village, hiding my plane, and walking in. I started my engines, giving the cub a fright. It mewled and buried itself in the arm of my suit as I revved the motors. Then, I taxied off the plain, skirted the seacoast as it curved, and continued south, or the direction I believed to be south. I probably could have alternated engines and had enough fuel to return to the surface, but how far out could I have gotten. Flying the P-38 on one engine is tremendously hard with all the instruments working, and you have to constantly switch to avoid damaging either engine. One slip would wreck me in the arctic with no hope of rescue. At least here, there was a promise of some friendly humankind, and new adventure far from the routine of chasing down Nazi subs. The war was over for me when I found myself lost in the ice. Here was a land I had only dreamt about. The plain gave way to gentle mountains, and flitting among them I could see more of the flying reptiles, or thipdars, as I had dubbed them. The mountains were fully as high as the Rockies back home, and I adjusted my altitude to get above them. This limited my ability to look for villages, but I reasoned that I would see any large villages, and they would be the ones worth landing at. Two hours brought me over the mountains, and I was determined to find a village and set down before my fuel ran out. Another plain presented itself, and dropping low, I saw a great forest to the east. I had nearly despaired when I saw what appeared to be a network of stone towers in a rough semicircle. I veered off, hoping that I wasn't spotted, and spent a few minutes looking for a place near the forest that I could land and camouflage my aircraft. A spot presented itself and I taxied in. The trees were much like those on the surface in any of the great forests in Canada, save the weather was more pleasant. I found sufficient branches that I was able to cut down with my knife to cover the plane so that a curious person would not disturb it. There were some odd noises in the woods as I worked, but no denizen of the forest presented itself, and I was soon ready to depart for the ring of towers, which to my mind represented a high level of human technology. Not wishing to frighten the people, I left my carbine in the plane, but did take my knife and pistol, along with some odds and ends from my flight kit to use as barter. The cub was beginning to get used to me, but was still wary, so I devised a carrying sack from my flight suit, giving him a space to stick out his head without being able to wriggle free. I attached the sack to my kit and slung it over my back. Civilization waited. I marched for nearly two hours. The time spent in my plane told on me, because my legs were pretty sore. Having a kit and a kitten weighing me down didn't help much, either. The sun remained at noon, even though my watch told me that it had been eight hours since I had entered the polar opening. When I approached the ring of towers, I wasn't challenged. This caused me to wonder, because I was used to being barked at by guards whenever I left the base. I decided not to investigate the towers, though. They could be waiting to ambush me, whoever they might be. I was also surprised that no dinosaurs were around, either. I figured that maybe I had left them on the other side of the mountain. The towers, from a distance, seemed roughly constructed, but solid. They were made from odd-shaped blocks of stone in squat cylinder shapes, crenellated at the top. The way the horizon curved up, I was sure you could see a long way, maybe even to where I hid my plane, since I hadn't marched too fast. The little cub didn't make much fuss, so I assumed that he must have been getting used to me. I thought about naming him. David Innes had a pair of hyenaedons, I remembered, and gave them names from India. After some consideration, I decided to name my cub Lightning, after my plane. It seemed like a good name, especially after the way I saw his parents move. It was bad luck that the dinosaur moved faster. I noticed that inside the towers were two tall obelisks, carved out of single pieces of stone. They looked like they had been smoothed carefully. The whole place was getting pretty spooky. I went up to the megaliths, and found that they flanked a set of steps, maybe fifty feet wide. I was trying to remember where I had read about something similar in Burroughs. He had written about this very type of thing. I smiled as I remember the cable he sent to Cogdon Nestor: Story True. I had to admit it. The story was true. Everything matched up: a city full of pirates, dinosaurs and other prehistoric monsters everywhere, and now this hole in the ground. It represented intelligence, though. Looking down the steps, I could see that they went down a long way, but it didn't look especially dark down there. The steps were worn by untold centuries of feet. I could see they went down to a large room, held up by giant columns. "Well, Lightning," I said over my shoulder to the tiger, "I guess we go down." His reply was a surprising purr and he rubbed his head against my back. I guess he was letting me know that I was his daddy. Fishing out a spring-loaded flash from my kit just in case, I descended the steps. As I had seen from above, some two hundred feet below was a long, colonnaded hall, from which ran corridors like spokes of a wagon wheel. The light, as best I could tell, came from sets of holes in the ceiling. Peering up into one, I couldn't quite figure it out, but it seemed like there was a system of reflectors that enhanced the natural light of the sun to give this underground city a sort of dusky illumination. The floor was thick with dust, but I could see ample evidence that there had been some recent habitation, because several sets of bare feet cris-crossed the hall. Spears and shields littered the floor, but they were dust covered as well. I saw nothing else of interest, except a musky, snake-like odor, which did nothing for my mood and caused Lightning to squirm. Not wishing to pause, we shared some water from my canteen and picked a corridor. The way was broad enough, but I still felt more claustrophobic than in the hall. Perhaps it was because I was getting farther from the steps. Several rooms adjoined the corridor, most of them empty, save for some long stone benches. I was about to retrace my steps and try another corridor when I heard an unmistakable female scream. Immediately, I put away my flash and drew my pistol. The scream was ahead of me, but I moved cautiously. Who knew what denizens lay ahead? My head was full of wild imaginings, culled from every pulp story I ever read. I wondered how Doc Savage or the Shadow maintained their cool in such situations. The scream was not repeated, but I continued on. As I passed the black rectangle of a doorway, a hand reached out and grabbed my arm.
CHAPTER THREE - LIFE IN THE CITY OF DEATH
I shook off the plucking grasp and whirled to meet whomever had accosted me. Pistol ready, I was surprised to see two humans in the room. One was female, and the other male. The female was tall and lovely, her over-the-shoulder garment of doeskin enhancing, rather than covering, her charms. Her face was heart-shaped, and her almond eyes glittered with a fiery emerald twinkle. She was armed with a stone knife, its chipped obsidian point waving slowly in my direction. Her companion was strangely shorter, and seemed more like a creature of leather-bound piano wire than a cave man. His spare form had not an inch of fat that I could tell, since all but a breechcloth of a soft, tawny hide and suede-appearing moccasins were his only vestments. His hair was black, but curlier than the ebon locks of his companion. His eyes were small and dark, and his face was craggy, with a rather large nose. While the female was of a uniform tan in pigment, he was a dark bronze, almost olive in his tint. He, too was armed, but with a steel-shod spear and an iron hatchet. The two eyed me warily for a moment. The man spoke in a singsong language that seemed unnatural for his lips. I shook my head. "I don't understand, I'm afraid," I said. "English!" The man said in an accented tone. "American," I corrected. "I am Byron Wells. Do you understand?" "Buono!" The man replied, smiling broadly. "I am Giuseppe Rinaldo, of the Regia Aeronautica." "An Italian!" I gasped. "We are at war." "Dio Mio!" he exclaimed, in shock. "Us against you? This is impossible. Il Duce would never do such a thing." "You have been down here a while," I smiled. "He was persuaded by Hitler that he had the blood of the Caesars in him." "Who is this Hitler? He's not Italian, eh?" "A Nazi. How did you get down here?" "I was a crewman with the great Nobile. Our airship, the Italia, was exploring the pole, trusting the advice of Swedish meteorologists. We were trying to beat Byrd, your countryman. He arrived with great aircraft that would easily out-race our airship. The Italia was a sweet vessel. She was not truly rigid, like the German dirigibles, but had a rigid keel. We went up, trying to beat Byrd, and it was a disaster. We drove into clouds, and wind, and suddenly the ice began to fly everywhere. The noise was horrible. "The propellers were specially strengthened to withstand ice storms, but not the cigar. The chunks of ice passed through the propellers and through the skin, piercing the gasbags. I was an engineer, and I had to help seal the bags when the ice went through. It was like the Dutch boy, eh? We tried to rise, and we actually broke through to the sunlight, but it was too late. The ice and wind drove us down, and we went onto the ice. The ship could not take the strain of the crash. The gondola and engines separated from the keel, and the next thing I knew, there was a lurch and we were flying off, a prisoner of the winds. "I clung for my life to the struts and wires inside the envelope of the ship, while the wind shrieked and whistled through the rents in the skin. I was freezing and scared. The ship was now no more than a free balloon, and it was swept along. Soon the wind dropped, but there was another surge from below. I could not see what was happening, so I crawled forward along the spine of the keel until I could find a hatch. I looked down to see steam and racing water. It came closer, and I thought we would crash and all drown, but we drifted beyond that, over a sea covered with ice floes and wreathed in fog. "I don't know how long we drifted. It may have been days. I was thirsty and hungry. I found five others of the crew, and scared like myself. Nobody was seriously injured, but we had no weapons, no food, and only a few tools. Finally, the ice ended and we were over plains full of fir trees and waving grasses. It was so beautiful, like the land below the Alps in my own country. We decided that we had to land the ship, so we waited until the land was fairly clear, then we released gas from the bags and settled onto the plain." "Lost, just like myself," I said. "I was just a kid when Byrd flew over the Pole. He never mentioned an opening. I remember your ship crashing, too. I can't remember much else, though. I was pretty small. What happened then?" "We made tents out of materials from the ship's skin," Giuseppe continued. "A pair went out to find water while the rest made camp. They came back and reported a city not far away on the slope of some hills. We drank what we could, then gathered up our tools, hoping we could sell them or trade for a way home. We didn't know where we were, so we figured we had flown over the Pole and were in Russia somewhere. "The city, she looked so strange that we knew we were in Russia. Instead of taking all our stuff in there, we buried half the tools and some of our pocketknives in case things didn't work out. Being Bolshevik, the Russians might not be too friendly to outsiders and we might have to retreat, was our thinking. I wish now, that we had landed in Russia. The Bolsheviks would have been far nicer." "What about that scream I heard?" I asked, hating to interrupt him. "Ah!" He said. "That was my companion here. Solame and I have been exploring this city. She seems quite deserted, but Solame heard something in a stairwell and screamed. She said she saw red eyes looking at her from below. She then ran, and I had to follow her. She ran in here, then you went by, and she wanted to warn you, I guess. Eh, Solame?" The girl said something in her own language that seemed a bit cross by its tone. "She was hoping that you were one of her kinsmen coming to rescue her," Giuseppe translated. "She says that it was not her fault that you were not." "Do her kinsmen dress like this?" I demanded. "I cannot say. I have never seen them. She says they are from the moon." "The moon?" I started. "She is from the moon?" "Not the outside moon, the inside one. I have not seen it myself, but they say it exists far to the south of here." "Why not? There is a sun here, so why not a moon? Go on with your story, and we shall see what devil lurks in that stairwell. My guess is he is not immune to lead." "In this world, one never knows," Giuseppe smiled. "To continue my tale, we approached the city, and a party of armed men streamed out. They carried muskets and blunderbusses. You would have thought they had come out of one of your Douglas Fairbanks movies. All of them were in gaily-colored outfits, with heavy leather boots and broad hats with feathers. Some carried cutlasses and looked like they needed a pirate ship to make them complete. The rest were naked to the waist, some in kilts, some in striped pants. I have not seen a more evil-looking bunch. Even the Black shirt guards of Il Duce were not so fearsome. "We hailed them with hands raised and open. They did not shoot us, but we were taken prisoner and stripped of all our possessions. We were then taken to their leader, a giant of a man known as the Cid. He was in a bad temper. He could not speak our language, or we theirs, so we were thrown in the dungeon until we could properly speak to him. I do not know how long we dwelt in that dark, dank place. Snakes and all manner of vermin shared our cells. One man went mad and dashed his head against the floor, mercifully killing him. Slowly, we picked up their tongue." "When we were able to tell our story, the Cid became very interested in our knowledge of dirigibles. He had some experience with one, apparently, not long before, and wanted his own version. He offered us much in the way of riches and women. Some accepted his offer readily, seeing it as the only way to survive. I was not one of them. I knew the man to be an evil brute and I wanted to be quits with him and his city of pirates. To make a long story short, I escaped. During my stay I had heard of an Empire of Sari, and having got vague directions by land, I endeavored to make my way around the Korsar Az, which is what they call their sea, and down to Sari. Along the way, I met Solame and her slave-girl handmaiden. Say! I forgot all about the maid, Solame." He spoke again to the dark-haired woman in her own tongue. The girl shrugged with some indifference. She replied in what could be considered bored tone. "She feels little concern," Giuseppe reported. "The handmaiden is on her own if she cannot keep up with her mistress. Solame would consider it good if the red-eyed thing devoured her, allowing us to escape unmolested." "Another example of the cruelness of this world," I said sadly. "Let's go and see what this red-eyed monster is. I have a feeling that there is more to this place than dust and moon maidens." Giuseppe led me back down the corridor to the stairwell. I stayed at his shoulder while the purported Moon inhabitant stayed a slight distance to the rear. When we rounded the corner, I faced a scene of horror. There, lumbering out of the darkness was a reptilian creature nearly eight feet tall. About it hung leathery wings so that it appeared to be wearing a dark olive shawl. The being's body glistened with some sort of gelid fungus, as if it had dwelt far into the depths. A serrated ridge of bone ran down the monster's spine, ending at the tip of its somewhat lengthy tail. This denizen from the Pit was towering over a girl, apparently the handmaiden. How different she was from her mistress! Where the Moon woman was tall and raw-boned, this maiden looked to be barely out of childhood. She could not have been five feet tall, and was so slender that I felt that I could encircle her waist with my hands. She turned at our approach, and I could see, however, that she possessed all the curves of a mature woman, and they were enhanced by the combination of shimmering cloth and spotted hides than swathed her breasts and hips. It was her face, though, that entranced me more than her loathsome antagonist. Framed by soft, waving hair the color of corn silk was a small face with huge, almost luminous blue eyes. She reminded me of some elf from a fairy tale. As the reptile slowly approached, she drew forth from her bosom a slim steel dagger. By her actions, I was afraid she would plunge it into her breast rather than become dinner for this fiend. "Stand back, girl!" I cried. "I will save you from that thing." The girl didn't understand me, so Giuseppe translated for me. During this exchange, the winged lizard finally noticed us, and I was at a loss to understand why it had not heard us approach, when the girl had plainly done so. I aimed my pistol as she drew back, and the creature raised itself up to its full height, seeming to understand the weapon I used. Slowly, it began to retreat to the stairwell. "I think it's got some smarts," I told Giuseppe. "It's bigger than any of us, yet it backed down when it saw my gun. What kind of lizard is that, anyway?" "I have never seen one like it," Giuseppe said. "It does seem to respect a gun. Maybe I can talk to it." He said something to it in Pellucidarian, but the creature, while looking right at Giuseppe, gave no sign that it comprehended him. Without warning, the blonde maiden gave an anguished cry, and sank to the floor moaning. I rushed to her side, still training my pistol on the monster. I helped her to a sitting position against the stone wall of the corridor, but she continued to hold one hand to her head. Giuseppe asked her some questions, then turned to me. "Ee-lah-na says that she feels the creature's thoughts in her head," he explained. "They are cold and lizard-like. The strain on her is bad." Ee-lah-na! So, this girl had a name. It sounded musical, and I said it aloud. She turned to me as I did so, and a wan smile flitted across her full, pale lips. Her skin, in fact, seemed whiter than the tanned exteriors of Giuseppe and Solame. I turned to the thing again, cudgeling my brain for a memory from Burroughs of this thing. Of course! It was a Mahar, one of that reptilian species that had once dominated a part of Pellucidar. Evolved, according to Abner Perry, from the ramphorynchus, these creatures possessed agile minds to go with their ability to fly. I then recalled their total deafness, and that their only means of communication was through their ape-men allies, the Sagoths, who could pick up their telepathic commands. Evidently, this girl could also feel their thoughts, though she was far removed from the brutal ape-men described by Burroughs. She was far removed from any other woman I had ever seen before. "What did it want?" I asked. "It wants to be left alone," was the reply. "It has lived in the dark for many sleeps, working to attain its goals, and just wants to be left alone to complete its task." "Which is?" "To either re-create something called the Great Secret, or to create a male Mahar." I seemed to remember that David Innes had hidden the Great Secret, the method that Mahars were able to reproduce without the male of their species. So, here, in the depths of one of its great cities, toiled one of the former dominant species of Pellucidar, working ceaselessly to regain what had been taken. "Tell it we mean it no harm," I said. The thing was no threat to us, especially since I could easily dispatch it. I did not want it to make any rash decisions, however. Then, a thought came to me. If the creature was of an advanced race, especially one that could reproduce asexually, then it must have the equipment necessary to produce compounds and other items. If possible, I wondered if it could produce gasoline. I discussed this possibility with Giuseppe in English. "Why not?" He shrugged. "I know something of the distillation of gasoline. If this thing has a laboratory, we could at least try. Would your plane hold us all?" "I think that if we stripped it down of non-essential items, it could. I am hopeful that it could take us closer to the empire of Sari." During this time, Lightning was whining in my improvised carrier. The musky odor of the Mahar was giving him a fit. I tickled him behind his ear while Giuseppe relayed our wishes to Ee-lah-na. She looked up at the Mahar intently, but did not get up. For a moment, both were motionless, then the Mahar turned its snout toward me, as if studying me with renewed interest. It turned again to the girl, who seemed to wilt as the reptile focused its gaze upon her. She stared at us with agonized eyes, and I confess that it broke my heart. She spoke in the language of Pellucidar, and Giuseppe's eyes brightened. "She says that the creature will help us in exchange for allowing it to accompany us to some place called Phutra," he reported. "Another Mahar city, I believe," I stated. "I thought it was destroyed by David Innes during his campaign to liberate his part of Pellucidar from these soulless creatures, but perhaps this one believes that it may hold some key to its success. At any rate, it's a deal we can't afford to pass up. The other thing we have to do is develop some sort of sign language to communicate with it. The effect on this servant's mind must be tremendous. I think we might risk her very life if we continue to communicate with this reptile through her." "Yes, yes, of course," Giuseppe agreed. "Solame tells me that the girl is very weak, that she allows her to serve her only out of pity." "One last message," I said. "Tell the Mahar we accept these terms and that we must institute an alternative form of communication." We conveyed this to the reptile, and it assented. After that came an intense period of work for us all, lasting for an unknown length of time. I could have counted sleeps, I supposed, which was the vague form of estimation that Solame used, but it seemed pointless. I would look up and it was noon, look up again, and it was still noon. It took some time to inventory the laboratory of the Mahars. Most of the equipment we found had been left to deteriorate. I speculated that the Mahars' view of evolution was to eventually become free of the need for sex. I found this amusing, since I had always regarded this need as being one of the more interesting aspects of reproduction. Humans, at least those that swarmed over the surface, were always working on gadgets that made life easier, work simpler, or killing more efficient. Even in my short life, we had jumped from clumsy cars and airplanes to graceful engines of destruction. Tanks, flamethrowers, aircraft carriers, all these things had grown from fledglings in the last war to terrible death-dealers in this one. Of course, I saw things through the eyes of a soldier. Medicines, appliances, and other things had progressed as well. These seemed to be the pinnacles for human achievement. I regarded what passed for a superior being in this hollow world with irony. While we scurried about in ever increasing complexity above, below this creature was attempting to simplify its existence by streamlining procreation. To what end, I wondered. Were males of the species vicious or repulsive? Or did the Mahars merely wish one sex to make their communal habitation easier and more regimented by being able to focus on the needs of a single sex? I felt incapable of delving too deep into these philosophical and scientific waters. Instead, I began to feel a certain pity for the thing. The joy of human intimacy was unknown to it, as foreign as the spoken word. Though speechless, it possessed a logical, fertile mind, capable of grasping our intent as we attempted to find a simple sign language. I was saddled with a double duty, because I felt it necessary to learn the common language of Pellucidar, the language of the gilaks, as humans called themselves in conjunction with the sign language that Giuseppe and I developed to more readily communicate with our two female companions. While I found the larger Solame of little interest, the opposite was definitely the case for her handmaiden. To be sure, the raven-haired Selenite kept her attendant busy gathering and preparing food, while Solame spent most of her time observing our work and stroking Giuseppe. I sometimes was a bit blushed by her attentions, but this was tempered by a sneaking distrust of her that had no real foundation. It was a hunch, but it nagged me. After initial success with our sign language, Giuseppe spent more time with the Mahar in the lab, and less talking with me. That left me more free time to work on my Pellucidarian vocabulary with Ee-lah-na. Since it became harder to forage for food near the Mahar city, I would accompany her as a body guard. Knowing that my supply of cartridges would run out, I used this time also to search out hardwoods that would make a sturdy bow and arrows. Lightning would usually ride along in my backpack, since he loathed the Mahar, but lately, he was almost too big to fit. His rapid gain in size gave me pause. I again pondered a land without time. How fast would a saber-tooth tiger mature on the surface? Was the time period the same here? If so, did the tiger know how fast time passed? Of course, it probably didn't care. I was beginning to feel the same way. We might have been working on our projects for a few days, or a few months for all I knew. To worry about it would be maddening. I preferred to think about my lovely companion. She had a good eye for edible fruits and plants. I would be conservative and use my pistol only if I had a clear shot on something she assured me would be edible. During the trip out and back, we would talk. On one foray, we traveled to my P-38 and gathered the rest of my gear. I found the plane undisturbed, though the foliage I had used to conceal it was dried. I can only attribute it safety to some animal instinct to ignore man-made things that did not smell like food. As we returned, I heard a rustling in a thick patch of brush. I swept Ee-lah-na behind me and leveled my carbine. Suddenly, an ungainly form scuttled forward out of the verdure. It was perhaps fifteen feet in length, with short, lizard-feet propelling it toward us as it hissed menacingly. I hurriedly noted a giant half-circle of spines projecting from its back that undulated beneath a layer of skin as it waddled out. The thing had a blunt lizard head full of sharp teeth. I aimed between the gaping jaws and fired two rounds, both penetrating the soft underside of its upper jaw. I believed the thing to be a Dimetrodon, one of those strange pre-dinosaur lizards. The two shots caused its head to whip to one side in pain. I followed it with another shot behind its lower jaw at the base of the neck as its head turned. The low-power 30-caliber bullet punctured its scaly hide and caused the reptile to stumble in shock. A huge convulsion shook its greenish-black frame. The thing coughed up a quantity of blood and rolled onto its side, legs kicking feebly. At that point, I realized that I had not taken a breath since the thing erupted from its concealment and exhaled heavily. Ee-lah-na clapped her small hands. I turned to find her looking up at me with the first smile I had even seen cross her lovely features. Before she had always seemed so sad. Now, I saw her differently. The smile seemed to suit her much better than her continual frown, enhancing her already considerable beauty. I was so entranced that for a moment, I couldn't speak. She took my silence for displeasure and her visage became downcast. "You are displeased with Ee-lah-na," she said quietly. "Why would you think that?" I blurted, coming out of my stupor. "You said nothing after I was so happy you saved this unworthy slave," she said, not daring to look up at me. I slung my carbine and gently lifted her chin with my right hand until she was staring directly at my face. "You did not displease me," I told her. "On the contrary, you threw me for a loop." "I don't think so. I certainly could not lift you, let alone throw you." I smiled at this, and she lost her sadness. "It's an expression. It means that I wasn't expecting you to be so happy, and when you were happy, you were even prettier than ever." Her ivory features blushed at this. "I am only a slave. It is my mistress who is beautiful." "Solame is pretty, that's true," I agreed. "However, you are beautiful." Again she colored. "You must not say these things. Solame would beat me if she thought a man would think me lovelier than her." "Not while I'm around. Where I come from we don't take to slavery and we sure don't take to bullies. My great-grandfather fought to free enslaved people back home. I'm not up on all the customs around here, but that's one I don't care for. As soon as we get clear of this mess, I'll see to it you're freed." "Why, Byron? I am nobody, from nowhere. I have no friends or family here. Solame and Giuseppe are all I know. And," she added, coloring a bit more, "you, of course." "First, you are not a nobody. You are a thinking, feeling, human being. You deserve to be free to do as you will. And everybody comes from somewhere. Where do you come from?" We had continued back toward the great tower that would lead us below ground to the Mahar city. "I am not allowed by my mistress to discuss that," she said, unhappy once more. "I will definitely be beaten then." "I told you nobody was going to beat you. Is she fleeing some sort of trouble? And what's this business about being from the moon?" "I am not sure where she is from, but I am almost certain she is not from the moon." "How can you be sure?" She gripped my arm with her slender, strong fingers. "Promise me you will say nothing of this until we go to this place the Mahar wishes." "Fine, I promise. That makes me more determined to get to this Phutra place. Sounds like something you say when you smell a rotten egg. And I sure smell one where this business of you and Solame come in. Okay, we're back anyway. Once we get enough gas to get to that place, then you'll come clean." "I am clean, Byron Wells, I bathe daily in an area I found in a lower chamber. There is a pool there. It is very scary, though. There are skulls all about." She looked so petulant when she said that, it was almost an effort to keep from laughing. "I am sure you are clean, Ee-lah-na. You smell great to me. It's just an expression from the surface. You say you found a pool? I've been washing in water dipped from a cistern I found." "I will show you, Byron Wells, but you will not like it."
CHAPTER FOUR - THE POOL OF DEATH
When we returned, I checked in with Giuseppe. He was happy to report that the Mahar had located a tar pit not too far away from which we could find the raw materials to refine gasoline. It had taken whatever passed for time up to this point to assemble the materials from parts in the Mahars' laboratory and rig up the necessary distilling apparatus. We ate our usual Spartan meal, after which I insisted Ee-lah-na show me the pool she was talking about. Taking only my pistol, I followed her down a broad winding stairway that was off another spoke of the main hub at the center of the Mahars' city. "How do you hear that thing's thoughts?" I asked her as we descended. It was a real novelty to be able to hold a conversation with somebody besides Giuseppe. Besides, I liked the diminutive Pellucidarian. The way she would look at me gave me a thrill. I tried to think of her just as another work-mate, but it was becoming more and more difficult. "Where I am from, we can sometimes pick up the thoughts of others," she said, simply, a small smile on her equally small features. "Not word for word most of the time, but usually when they are tied to strong feelings, emotions." "Wow," I said. "Can you read my mind?" "I haven't tried. It's not something we consider polite where I am from. You wouldn't eavesdrop on Solame and Giuseppe would you?" "Well, no, especially when they," I stopped short, still trying to get a handle on relationships. "I mean, are they, do they -" "Are they mates? Not the way I am used to. One mates for life where I am from, but it usually is arranged by the families." "That's the way I like it, too," I told her. "Where you come from sounds like a nice place, especially if they are all like you." She blushed, which really stood out on her pale skin. "That is the problem. They are not all like me back home. I would not want to go back there." We had reached the bottom of the steps and were now in a long passageway, still lit by the reflected sunlight arrangement. I could feel a dampness coming from ahead. Ee-lah-na's story was getting stranger by the moment, even considering the strange events I was already involved in. "Well, it's got to better than being a handmaiden for Miss Round Heels of the Stone Age back there," I said. "They are a people bored with what they have. Now, they want to make war." "Sounds like the Nazis back home. Well, here we are, I guess." Before us the passageway broadened into a vast amphitheater of rocks, leading down to a pool of black water. The rocks looked platform-like, set in tiers around the pool. I saw several pieces of debris littering the rocky ledges. Going over to examine one pile I found odd bones and two skulls. By the tooth marks on several of the bones, I had no doubt that the humans represented by these pitiful remains had been devoured, no doubt by either the Mahars or their servants. I wondered again at the devil's bargain we had made with the Mahar above us. Once we had given it what it wanted, would it try to destroy us, or go away and return with a renewed race bent on subjugating humanity once more? "You are one brave lady," I said, looking at Ee-lah-na. She looked back at me with a strange intensity. I was about to say more when suddenly there was a shrieking above us, a growing screeching and rustling. I looked up, unsnapping my pistol, only to see a cloud of winged shapes bursting out of the ceiling. I took them at first to be bats, but when they drew closer, I could see that they were small flying lizards, some sort of dimorphodon. In all aspects, they mimicked their surface mammal counterparts, chattering and boiling around the room. Ee-lah-na screamed in response and clutched me closely. I put one hand over her head and held her tight, delighted at the feel of her small, luscious form against me. The lizards, while upset, did not attack, but formed into a cigar-shaped cloud and rushed out through an illumination port. "I think I've seen enough," I commented, trying to break the tension. She immediately wriggled loose from my embrace and stood back, flustered. "I never knew they were here," she said. "Why do you suppose these people died here?" "You don't know, do you?" I asked, wishing she had held on a little longer. "You are such a sweet, innocent lady. These bones here were gnawed on by the sisters of that oversized scaly stork up there. I learned that these Mahars were once the dominant race down here. They enslaved humans, and had these big ape-man brutes as servants. They also used thipdars as their personal bodyguards. You know what thipdars are, don't you?" "Yes, the big flying lizards. We don't have such things at home." She reached out and touched my arm with her slender fingers. "Can we go back up now, Byron Jasper Wells? Now that you have told me about the nature of this place, I don't want to go back here ever." "I'm sorry to spoil it for you," I said as we retraced our steps. "The Mahars used the same mental powers that allow you to read its thoughts to hypnotize humans. They would perform elaborate ceremonies down here. The queen, I am told, would lead one human out into the water and ritually dismember them while still alive. The hypnosis was so strong that the human would feel no pain, only stop functioning once its vital organs had been chewed off. It's horrible to contemplate, but that's how the Mahars got their kicks. I've shot several animals while I've been down here, but I never took any pleasure in killing a living thing. These Mahars aren't human, they have no ability to care, to feel sorry, to want to understand what they consider inferior beings, or to love." I stumbled the last out a little. I was still smiling inside after that bear hug she gave me. "I sometimes think my people are like that," Ee-lah-na said. "They believed that all others are inferior, and that war is their only solution to relieve the overcrowded conditions of our land. Marriages were arranged, with only the thought of creating perfect offspring." "A master race, selective breeding, and lebensraum - I'm sorry, living space," I barked with an ironic tone. "I've heard all those slogans back home. That's why my country went to war. We're fighting a dictator who believes that his people are superior to all other races, and that they should inherit the lands of the inferior humans, to the point of exterminating whole populations if necessary. No marriages outside the master race are allowed. They want blonde, blue-eyed children. Even though their dictator has coal-black hair. It's madness." "My leaders would agree with this dictator perfectly," she said. "Even now they perfect their weapons of war. I ran away because the mate they were selecting for me was very cruel. He would even kick pets." "Nice guy," I commented. "Well, we're back now. I think we need to have a word with the Mahar, if you're up to it." "It depends on how forceful the thought waves are. The Mahar can be very intense, as when we first met her. I will try to ask it to keep its power low." "Sounds like trying to send too much juice through too small an electric cable," I said. "Something's got to give. Ok, let me talk to Giuseppe first." I found the wiry Italian examining a flask full of amber liquid at one end of the makeshift lab. The Mahar sat at the opposite end, still as a gargoyle statue. "What's that stuff?" I asked. "You're distilling beer down here are you?" Giuseppe smiled a face-splitting grin. "Not at all. If you want to drink this, you take a drink first, eh?" He unstopped the flask and held it under my nose. "Gasoline!" I exclaimed. "You've got the real thing." "With this, we can head south, find Sari," he said. I need to rig up some sort of cart to carry the stuff bubbling up out of that tar pit. It's going to take a while, but we should have enough to fuel your plane before we get old and gray." "I didn't think anybody lived long enough down here to get old and gray. What about the flying newt over there? She didn't croak on us, did she?" I pointed to the immobile Mahar. "She's a just sleeping, I guess." Giuseppe shrugged his shoulders. "I see her do that when she is done working and not eating. She never closes her eyes, just kind of goes into a trance for a while." "Probably something to do with her cold-blooded physiology. Just as well. I've got something to discuss with you." I outlined my adventures at the pool with Ee-lah-na. "Who's to say that once she gets this Great Secret, she doesn't turn out enough sisters to start the party all over again? Humans fought hard enough before just to get 86'd again." "Well, what do you propose?" Giuseppe scratched his curly head. "Do we go back on our promise and kill the thing before we leave? It hasn't offered to harm us." "It needs us. I wonder what it eats now? Do we keep bargains made with monsters?" "It's a thinking creature, like us. Do you want to start the whole superior being mess again? I have heard enough of your talk about this Hitler. Now you want to exterminate another intelligent being without cause." "Without cause? Giuseppe, it eats humans." He shrugged his shoulders. "It hasn't eaten us. We'll use the pale girl and talk to it before making any decisions. For now, help me run a tube to the storage tank over there. I am trying to keep the gas as refined as possible. After all, your plane is very sophisticated compared to the bi-planes I remember, yes?" "Yes," I said, and we fell to work. After a period of time, during which we worked, the women brought us food, and then we worked some more
Later, the Mahar stirred itself. It seemed to shiver a bit all over, then it rose and looked over our work. I went and got Ee-lah-na and we formed a half circle around it. My hand was never far from my holster flap, uncertain of the thing's sincerity. I wondered what feelings existed within that scaly, reptilian body. To shorten this narrative, I am just giving the questions and answers, without the laborious translation by Ee-lah-na's mental telepathy. "I went down and saw the pool while you slept," I told it. "Human bones were all about." "That was many sleeps ago. Many of my sisters have left or died since then." "You ate humans there, did you not?" I asked. "Yes, and I am sure many more bones are beneath the waters of the pool. Shall we get to work?" The thing regarded me with its cold, remorseless gaze, and I could feel a hint of its hypnotic powers. Ee-lah-na did not seem overly stressed by the exchange, so I continued. "Not just yet," I said. "You are now working with the same creatures you feasted on when you controlled the gilaks. Do you still look upon us as food?" "The fact that you can communicate and make tools is supposed to change thousands of generations of Mahar thinking?" it asked, its unblinking gaze never leaving me. "For now, we understand the necessity of working toward a common goal. I wish to go to Phutra unmolested, and you wish to find advanced gilaks like yourselves. Have you found some reason to abrogate this agreement? You haven't, have you? What are a few old bones to you? Nothing." I could suddenly feel a dizziness sweep me. The Mahar's eyes suddenly seemed huge, until they were about to swallow me. Giuseppe saw me swaying and shook me sharply. "Wake up, Byron!" he shouted. "It's trying to control you." I came to myself and held my pistol pointed at the creature's heart. I was amazed that my mind could have been subjugated so easily. "You will never attempt to use your powers on any of us again." I told it. "You know that this weapon can kill you from a great distance. For now, we will keep our bargain because I come from a people that believe that their word is their bond. One slip from you, and I will splatter your insides from one end of this lab to the other. Do you understand?" "Yes," it said, though, of course, its toothy beak never moved. "You will not speak of the past, and I will not speak of the fact that you are just as easily entranced and are just as violent as any of the other gilaks I have encountered. I wonder which one of us is the real monster?" I refused to be baited further. "Remember my words, and this shall be the end of our conversation," I said, feeling my jaw clench as I spoke, grinding out my speech. "We are both intelligent creatures. Your powers differ from mine, as do your feelings, or lack thereof. However violent we gilaks might be, we do not eat Mahars. The fact that David Innes did not exterminate you when he held the upper hand shows you how we of the surface feel about the rights of all sentient beings to exist. Don't make me reassess this on an individual basis. We work together, and when we arrive at Phutra, our relationship ends." The creature vented a low hiss and clacked its long jaws, but otherwise made no comment, only to use our sign language to convey that it was ready to get to work. Ee-lah-na seemed relieved at this, and I led her back to Solame so that they could prepare food for our meals. Her luminous eyes never left the Mahar as we left and she shivered visibly. "I have seen madness and cruelty," she whispered to me, "but never have I felt such a coldness. This creature's thoughts are like the chill of a mountain peak, where water is frozen. Blackness darker than the interior of a cave swirls around its mind. Byron Wells, I believe this thing is beyond our comprehension of evil. I never thought I could feel the thoughts of a monster, but that is what I have heard." "I'm sorry you had to go through that," I said, taking her hand. "Look, I'm not going to put you through that again. We have the sign language. That'll be enough. I don't think we can relate to this thing anyway. As you say, it's a monster. Say, what do you know of frozen water? This place is one big Hawaii." "I don't know what you mean by Hawaii," she said, "but where I come from, there are lots of places where nothing grows, and on the mountain tops are patches of white frozen water. Our leaders have it sent for to cool their drinks. Only the powerful can have such a privilege." "The more I hear of your home, the worse it sounds," I said. "Is it such an unhappy place?" "No, it is not. It is just that our leaders have used speeches to make the people long for more than what they have. They now want to move out, to attack." "Sounds like Nazis to me," I sighed. "I am glad you aren't like that." We arrived at the door to the sleeping quarters she shared with Solame. "Byron," she said, squeezing my hand, "promise me that you will not let them take me back if I am found." "I promise," I said easily. "I will defend you with my life. Back home, there was a people called Texans, and another people that they wanted to be free from ruled them. They had a device called a cannon, like my pistol, only bigger. The other people, Mexicans, came to attack them, and the Texans made up a banner, a piece of cloth with words on it, that said: come and take it. Anybody wants you, they have to go through me, because I'm going to tell them the same thing: Come and take her." She looked up at me, and I saw something different in her eyes. It was an intensity that up until that point I was unfamiliar with. The rest of existence seemed to retreat away that instant, leaving us alone, standing there oblivious to all. Her hand was suddenly warm in mine, and I realized that I was crossing into a territory just as unexplored as when I passed through the polar opening. There wasn't much reasoning beyond that. My heart began to pound and feelings erased any logical thought progression. I can't remember if our embrace was gradual or quick. I gathered her up, lifting her off her tiny feet as her slender arms twined around my neck and my lips hungrily sought hers. This was real passion, not the pulp kind where feelings remain unrequited or stilted until the story could end in a tidy package. We had been thrown together in close contact for many sleeps, years perhaps on the outside world. Right now, though, time had stopped, and all I knew was the sweet softness of her lips and the rushing of my blood in my veins as I held her luscious body close to my own. We said nothing, but in my mind I was beginning to half-form ideas, words, fragments of what to tell her. Any further movement in that direction, however, was squashed when the door to Ee-la-nah's quarters flew open to reveal the tall, rawboned Solame. Her eyes blazed beneath the black tangled mass of her hair. "What is this?" She demanded. "My servant giving herself to a man on my very doorstep. He has more important things to do that waste his time with your dalliance, you little tramp. Tell him goodbye swiftly, and enjoy this memory. Perhaps it will comfort you while you are being beaten." She reached out a tanned hand and roughly yanked the girl toward her. I snatched away the offending paw so hard that Solame stumbled a bit. She looked to me in anger. "You will not beat this girl," I said, my own passion energizing my voice. "She has done nothing worth beating and has been through a terrible ordeal communicating with the Mahar. Yes, I do have to work on our escape, but I tell you this. If I find one mark upon her body the next time I see her, you will receive a beating - from me." Solame stiffened in terror. "You would not dare!" She shrieked. "Giuseppe would-" "Would what?" came a voice behind me. I half turned to see the Italian engineer. "I was wondering what was keeping dinner and I find you three arguing." "Solame wants to beat Ee-la-nah because she found us embracing," I said, hesitating on the last part a bit. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. "I told her to lay off or I'd give her a licking." "And she thought I would stop you," Giuseppe surmised. "She's a not so dumb. I don't believe in anybody getting a beating, but I got a this to say. If she touches the girl, I beat her myself and you can have anything that's left. Now, I a damn sight hungry and somebody better get some food going before I do get in a mood to spank somebody." He grinned and slapped my back. "Come on, Byron. Let's make some gas while they make something to give us gas, OK? Besides, I've got an idea about a special package for our trip." "A package? What's the occasion? Without night and day, I can even begin to consider a calendar." He chuckled briefly. "Well, this occasion is our leaving this place. The way you described your airplane, I don't think all of us will fit, even without the Mahar. Not to mention your not-so-little kitty." Actually, Lightning had been my only gauge that a long time had passed. He was as long as I was tall, and probably outweighed me by a hundred pounds. In between sleeping and working, I had trained him much like I have seen guard dogs trained. He was highly intelligent, and his only drawback was that he was a cat, and had his own ideas about some things. He did have a sense of deferring to the family head, which was me, so he did listen most of the time. He was also pretty handy at finding antelope and bringing back enough for us all. Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, he didn't like the Mahar at all. When we got to our workshop, Giuseppe unrolled a sheet of parchment that the girls had produced for us to make notes on. This, however, was a complex diagram, complete with specifications. Giuseppe had written it down in Italian, which was unreadable. Still, it was easy to see that what he was working on looked a lot like a monoplane. "Another airplane?" I asked him. "I don't see anything about an engine. Does the Mahar have a machine shop capable of turning out a Pratt and Whitney? A Rolls Royce Merlin, or a Hispano-Suiza, maybe?" "We have two engines on your plane, Byron," he said, smiling. "They will be all we need. During our conversations, you told me how the Nazis used gliders towed behind transports to carry extra men and equipment. Without your bombs, you should have enough power to lift a light craft and its occupants, though you won't be able to do complex maneuvers. That's what this is. I designed it as a hollow shell with a wide wing to provide easy lift. Here you see how the tow cable attaches to the nose of the glider and the tail of your fighter. While duralumin would be the ideal material for the frame, we will have to do with local woods that will provide strength while being light." "We will also need a loom to produce the fabric for the skin," I pointed out. "Not necessarily. I believe that we could provide an adequate covering by using stretched hides, carefully sewn. It has taken me some time to perfect the design and work out the calculations by hand. Mahars don't use slide rules." I noted his lapses in perfect English ended when he explained things carefully. "So, you get this thing built and then we get it airborne. What happens if it shakes apart? "A chance we must risk. I think we can produce simple levers so that if it suffered damage, I could sever the cable and glide it to a landing." "A controlled crash, you mean." He rolled up the parchment and tied it with a piece of leather. "Let's just make every effort to ensure that doesn't happen. I calculate that we should be able to get the glider finished at approximately the same time as we finish refining the gasoline. The two girls should be able to help us with the hides and sewing. Lightning's hunting skills will get us the raw materials for the skin, and the Mahar can tell us which trees will provide the best wood for the frame. I also need to build a setup to draw wire so we can weave cables for the controls, even if it has to be copper." We worked happily and steadily after that, but my mind was far from the painfully slow drip of the amber fuel from the filtration system into the storage containers. I was already considering bringing my airplane into the city's proximity and beginning to pour fuel into its tanks while we labored to construct a glider that would allow all of us to escape. Once in the kingdom of Sari, we would be free from having to work with the repellent Mahar. I would also ask David Innes to set Ee-la-nah free so that she could be with me, and not with that lunar loony Solame. At the end of our work period, I ate, but barely tasted my food as I gazed into Ee-la-nah's eyes. She smiled through the entire encounter, and I went to sleep dreaming of a happy future flying for the Emperor of Pellucidar.
CHAPTER FIVE -- RETURN TO THE SKIES
Pulp adventure novels always seem so exciting to me. They teem with non-stop action. Real life is much more tedious. There was a difference, though, to the monotony at work in that dead city of the Mahars. For the first time since becoming stranded in Pellucidar, the world beneath Earth's surface, I had hope for a future, a life with a beautiful woman who loved me as deeply as I loved *her. Love does strange things to a man, and I am the first to admit I was giddy with the blush of romance. I seemed superhuman in my abilities, and worked tirelessly toward my goal of taking my small band of companions to the seat of the Empire of Sari and meeting with David Innes, the Emperor of civilized Pellucidar. Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing. When I went to retrieve my P-38, I found that little rodents had chewed some of the wiring and it had to be replaced. Others had destroyed the leather and padding inside the cockpit, so that had to be replaced also. Luckily, the damage was minor and I was able to bring the plane next to the city where we kept it covered with a lean-to made of woven branches and grasses. Everything we did had to be made nearly from scratch. The tools and equipment in the Mahar's lab were mainly geared toward biological chemistry, but Giuseppe was able to devise the most ingenious things with them. Lightning brought in fresh meat and hides. The girls scraped and sewed. I used my survival knife to cut hides into strips so that they could join large pieces of hide across the wooden frame of our glider. We used primitive methods to shape the frame, but Giuseppe had an excellent eye, and the glider began to take an elegant shape. I drew pictures of transport planes and gliders from memory, and Giuseppe chose his design from them, refining the shape he originally had shown me. Cables and fittings proved to be a small problem, but Giuseppe adapted some sort of furnace that the Mahars used to incinerate hazardous chemicals and refuse into a reasonable forge. We experimented with copper zinc, and tin, found in quantity within a mile of the city. Bronze was too brittle, but brass made for nice fittings. Producing glass capable of holding up to flight was beyond us; so Giuseppe designed a series of sliding panels that he could close to keep the wind off, yet open during takeoff so he could see. He also forged a set of brass mirrors that he could project from the side to see with, but even the high polish he gave them made them barely reliable. Salome, consequently, could not understand why she had to make sets of furs, but Ee-la-nah seemed unruffled by the idea. Even in the tropics of Pellucidar, the air at several thousand feet would be a trifle chilly at three hundred miles per hour or so. Eventually, after whatever time passed back on the surface, we had everything ready. Giuseppe's glider looked like something from a pulp artist's imagination. The brass fittings were strange to me after all the nickel and chrome that coated most modern planes' parts. Giuseppe's carefully sewn wing fabric was based on his experience with the Norge, and he included an uncoupling device in case he needed to disconnect from my plane. He rigged a retractable tether to my tail boom and we were set. We used my plane to drag the glider into position. It was tricky business, but finally we had them lined up with a long flat stretch. The glider rested on skids and would be tricky to land if the ground were rough. Of course, I considered any landing we could all walk away from to be a good one. We loaded food and tools in my tail boom compartments and our distillery equipment in the back of the glider. We worked out the weight so that Salome, Lightning and I would ride in the P-38, and Giuseppe, Ee-la-nah, and the Mahar would ride in the glider. I didn't like the idea of her not riding with me, but she was needed to communicate with the Mahar in case Giuseppe was too busy to use sign language. Giuseppe and I checked over each plane carefully, making sure all the controls worked and that the lubricant levels were fine. We then topped off my fuel and prepared to board. I made a series of gestures to the Mahar to indicate that I would tolerate no interference from her during the flight, though inwardly I was at a loss to figure out how to enforce such a statement. She gave me a direct bearing to Phutra, and had even laboriously sketched a map of salient features that would guide me if we got off course. I shook Giuseppe's hand. "I guess you never counted on this when you signed on with Nobile," I said. "Adventure is adventure, and this is greater than anything on the top, eh?" he said, grinning. I go now and load the Mahar. You just fly this thing without any funny stuff." "We're fine as long as the thipdars leave us alone. After all, the last things we have to worry about are enemy interceptors here." Then, I was facing Ee-la-nah. She smiled much more that it gave her such an appealing look along with her big blue eyes. Unheeding, I squeezed her to me and gave her a kiss that would have been considered shameful in polite company where I came from. However, where I came from might as well had been on the moon. "I hope this is a short trip," I said. "I miss you already. Don't be scared. Flying is fun when you get used to it." "I will be fine. Besides, I have flown before." I started to question her on this, when Salome spoke up. "Let us go. I am ready to see more people, and get me a new servant other than this insolent slut who throws herself at any man." I turned on her in cold fury. "With you as a mistress, she would be hard put not to be insolent. I better not hear any more insults, or I will tie you to the bomb rack and you can travel to Sari that way." She started, but said nothing, probably because she didn't know what a bomb rack was. Without further exchange, we got in the planes. Lightning was a bit skittish, but obeyed me as well as a trained Shepherd and found the extreme back of the cockpit to curl up in. Giuseppe came out after securing the Mahar and Ee-la-nah to make sure my engines started. They fired like I was back in Greenland. He climbed back into the glider and secured the door. Here was the big test. If the glider became airborne we were on our way, if it showed the least bit of problems I was going to land before I got too much altitude to make a crash fatal. One thing we hadn't made was a parachute, and even if I had done so there was no way to train my companions in bailout procedures. I slowly revved up the motors and eased the plane forward. The P-38 rolled along the grass, gaining speed as the tether played out. There was a slight tug as the cable pulled taut, then glider began to follow. I gave the plane more throttle and brought it up to takeoff speed. The fighter lifted off the grass and the glider followed! With one hand on the throttle, the other on the stick, my head swiveled like a dashboard hula doll as I looked back through the canopy. The P-38 felt a little wobbly, but gave me few problems. The main concern was torque and-- It worked! The glider steadied and I gained what I thought would be an altitude too great for thipdars, yet low enough so that the air wouldn't be too thin. Of course, I had no idea if the atmosphere down here got thin. I looked ahead and the landscape melted into a jumble in the rising distance, giving the sensation one was flying in to a wall and at the same time making far landmarks almost impossible to distinguish. It was going to be a long flight, but I was confident we could reach the border of Pellucidar's only known Empire. I trusted the Mahar's mapmaking skills to the same degree that I trusted her not to ever eat another human being, so I stayed along the jagged spine of mountains that led in the direction I considered south. I took it easy and flew straight so I could gauge how dragging the glider would affect the P-38's performance, and to listen to see if our crudely distilled aviation fuel would run smoothly. Both worked well. I waggled my wings to show how happy I was and upset Lightning. He got over it. Salome said nothing, but her face turned green whenever turbulence made the plane buck a little. "I thought you came down here from the moon," I observed. "You had to have flown down, unless you used a parachute." "On the moon, we have methods you can't comprehend," she said crossly. I wanted to press Salome, but she was still pretty sore at me from the time I stopped her from beating Ee-la-nah, so I gave it up. I was going to get a decent view of the moon, though not as close as I'd like. I intended to fly to a landmark called the Great Peak and turn left, or eastward, toward the knob of land which contained Sari and Phutra. I estimated I would approach no closer than 400 miles from Pellucidar's moon, which was nearer than anybody from the surface had come to the outer moon. I considered offering Salome to drop her off on the way, but suppressed the petulant emotion. When we got to Sari, and I got Ee-la-nah out of her bondage, Salome could thumb back to the moon for all I cared. All went smoothly for a long stretch of time. I had no compass, but Giuseppe was able to repair my altimeter and airspeed indicator. This, along with my rewound wristwatch that for a long time I merely stowed away as useless, gave me some sense of how far I was going and how much fuel I was consuming. I knew that I could not fly all the way to Sari, so we had constructed two sheet metal containers and placed an extra hundred pounds of fuel in the glider. This would allow me to reach Phutra for sure, by estimates, and hopefully back to Sari in a short hop. I intended to use my flyby of the Empire's capital to spot a safe place to land where I wouldn't be shot up by their soldiers since they possessed rifled muskets as last I understood. Comparing a rifled musket to the smooth-bores of Korsar was like comparing rifled muskets to modern machine guns. Ulysses S. Grant remarked that a man with a musket might stand 200 yards from you and shoot at you all day without you ever knowing that you were the target. David Innes' weapons were certainly on a par with those of the last century. For all I knew, he had machine guns and tanks. At last I saw the Great Peak. It jutted skyward far beyond the serrated tops of the rest of the range. Beyond the Great Peak, as I gently made my turn, I saw the dark sphere of Pellucidar's moon. It had none of the reflected luminosity of the outer world's moon. Instead, it appeared like a small planet, brilliantly highlighted on top and deep-shadowed on the bottom, complete with its own blotches of green and blue as pulp artists have imagine earth to be like. At four hundred miles distance it seemed tiny and its features barely visible. I hoped someday to take a closer examination. For the time being, it hovered over the surface of Pellucidar like an ominous specter, casting its gloomy shadow over the land beneath it. I turned to remark to Salome that her home was in view to find her snoring, flabby lips rippling with each exhalation. I supposed some men would find her appealing, but I was not one of them. I longed for Ee-la-nah, to hold her in my arms, and to do more than that. My passionate imaginings were cut short, however, when I saw a black shape in the distance heading on a course guaranteed to intersect my own. I thought at first it was one of the giant thipdars, mistaking me as a rival for its territory. My speed had been great enough to avoid such encounters previously. I noted with alarm, however, that this thing was closing on me rapidly. The object closed too rapidly for a flying reptile. To my horror, I realized that it was another aircraft, sleek and black. A single engine cowling bloomed from its nose, and from two nacelles beneath its wings came winking bursts of flame and the flat crack of gunfire!
CHAPTER SIX -- DOGFIGHT DOWN BELOW
I felt helpless. If not a sitting duck, I was at least a barely maneuverable one. I gave the aircraft a quick glance as it dove below me. It looked like a madman's redesign of a Focke-Wulf FW-190 fighter, something I had only seen in drawings and photos. It had the same blunt, rounded nose with a bullet-shaped cover for its propeller hub. The lines of its canopy were more angular, and its wings were ribbed so that the trailing edges almost had a scalloped look to them. The tail section was much more rounded, again with the bat-wing feel to its outline. I had no more than this impression as I fought to gain altitude. At first, I feared it belonged to the Empire of Pellucidar, and that we were going to be shot down by the very people that we were trying to reach, but I shoved that thought aside. From all that I had read, Pellucidarian science took one step forward and two steps back. Whoever this black craft belonged to it was going to chew me to pieces because I certainly was not going to be able to dogfight with the glider attached. A glance showed that the black craft was looping upward and there was no way for me to turn to meet it. Lightning was snarling at the sudden shift in the plane's flight. Salome was oblivious for the time being. I looked around for a flat place to hand, in the frail hope that I could set us down before the enemy fighter could destroy us. As I swung in an arc to try to keep my plane toward the enemy, I suddenly felt a surge through the plane's frame. Looking back, I saw that the glider was free. Giuseppe had guessed the situation correctly and had used the release mechanism he had installed. I twisted sharply, causing Salome to scream. I got a quick glimpse of the glider winging over and heading for a narrow plain beyond some trees, and then the enemy tried another burst. I felt a sharp slap or two along the frame as bullets struck, then he was past me again. His weapons seemed to fire at a very slow rate, otherwise I would have been stitched pretty well. This time, I was ready to fight back. I shoved the stick forward, sending the P-38 into a steep dive toward the green mass of treetops. Salome's face was beet red. I checked my guns. "What is happening?" Salome demanded. "You are going to kill us." "Do me a favor and shut up," I snapped back. "Better yet, say nice things to Lightning back there, or he might just get so upset that he'll throw up on you. Worse, he might decide on a last meal and it would be you." Salome's eyes grew large and she turned to Lightning's savage visage. "Nice kitty," she said somberly, "Nice kitty!" A quick look showed that the enemy was right on my tail. I revved up my engines, flattened out my dive and pulled back on the stick. The P-38 clawed upward in a circular maneuver perfected by Max Immelman. When I snapped out of it, I was behind the enemy ship, lining up on his tail section. This was what I had signed on for, only I was trained to expect a Nazi Swastika or Japanese rising sun to be on the tail of my opponent. My thumb stabbed the firing button and a stream of machine gun bullets hosed out. I didn't use the 20mm since the plane wasn't that big. The .50 caliber slugs tore the aft section of the plane apart as if it was a Japanese paper lantern. The damage was way out of proportion, I could only imagine that the plane was made out of some lightweight wood and fabric rather than the metal fame of my P-38. The enemy fighter didn't catch fire as it tumbled toward the ground like a broken kite, but I circled the area until it crashed on the opposite side of the forest where Giuseppe's glider had landed. I would have liked to have seen further results but my first thought was of Ee-la-nah's safety. I turned the stick at near full-power and swung around toward where the glider had gone down. Keeping a sharp eye out for more mystery planes, I throttled back and circled the area. The sliver of unforested area was easy to pick out from the upward curving surface, though I found details to be flatter-looking as I lost altitude and details blended in easier. I saw a deep gash in the amber texture of the plain that ended in a mix of brush and trees. The tall trees threw down enough shadow to deny me a view of the glider. I made one more pass and had no choice but to land. I brought the P-38 in for what turned out to be a harrowing landing because the grasses in the field were knee-height, tall enough to clog my props and damn near flipping the fighter nose over as the vegetation dragged on the landing gear. We didn't flip, but I couldn't taxi after we came to a halt--I wasn't sure if I could take off again, let alone with the glider attached. I killed the engines, unhappy I was not closer to the glider's crash site. "I am going to find them," I told Salome. "You will stay in the plane and scream if anybody bothers you." She cast a horrified look at Lightning. "What about the tarag?" She asked. I had a thought, swiftly contained, then said: "He comes with me." Salome was relieved. I grabbed the M-1 carbine and deplaned. Lightning followed close behind, happy to get out of the cockpit. The tarag paused to answer the call of nature then coursed ahead, bounding in leaps through the tall grass with a swiftness I wished I could emulate. Near the forest edge I found the glider, in the shadow of trees I judged to be at least two hundred feet tall. The glider was wedged between two giant tree boles, its wings snapped off, crumpled masses which lay to either side of the rude fuselage. The door was open, but there was no answer to my frantic call. Inspecting the inside of the glider, I found a large splash of blood but at the same time I found no bodies. Unfortunately, I am no Tarzan. Wilderness tracking was not one of my skills so any hope of following the erratic blood trail leading away from the glider was limited. My mind raced at the prospect of the scaly Mahar having devouring my beloved and Giuseppe. I made a thorough search of the surrounding area, but to no avail. Lightning seemed unsure what was going on, and then I realized that his sense of smell was probably sufficient to hunt for them. My hopes rose steadily as I returned to the plane. Salome was sweating when I pushed back the Plexiglas canopy to retrieve supplies, food, and water. "At last," Salome rapidly breathed, fanning her face. "This clear ceiling," she smacked the canopy with irritation, "makes it very hot on Salome. You did not find them?" She didn't seem very distressed by that possibility. "No, but Lightning can track them," I said. I rapidly filled a pack with necessaries, ignoring Lightning making a rodent kill near the tail section. The beast could feed himself. "What are you doing?" Salome asked?" "I'm going after Giuseppe and Ee-la-nah." "What about the black flyer?" she asked. "His tough luck, but I suspect he's got problems of his own if he isn't dead. You have a choice. You can stay with the plane or come with me." She did not seem happy with either thought. At the moment I had other things on my mind and was not interested in Salome's feelings. "There's enough food and water left for a short spell." I said, hoisting the pack to my shoulder. I checked the carbine and looked to Lightning licking the kill's blood off his paws. The tarag's ears pricked smartly when I whistled. The great cat came to heel, bumping my thigh, surprising me since cats are as alien creatures, that is, they are not dogs. Lightning rubbed against me, eyes fixed on the forest and seeming to partner with my desires. I was no more than twenty steps away from the aircraft before Salome dropped to the ground. She hurried forward. "Let us hope we don't have to walk far." She piled on as much disdain as any human voice could muster, while at the same time desperately clutching my elbow. I shook her off, gently, and struggled to keep an even temper. "If we do, we do, but I hope not." Were moon women a lazy, pampered bunch? I carried all my ammunition and both guns, plus my survival knife. Salome had a stone knife, but I had never seen her draw it except to hack off huge pieces of meat that Lightning had brought home. I remembered how skillful she was at that, gobbling down extra meal portions before anybody could guess exactly how greedy she was. We went back to the glider. I waved Salome to wait as I approached the craft filled with greedy little lizards and possum-like mammals fighting over the food stored in the glider. Lesser creatures chewed on the hide coverings and anything else that seemed edible. I could not get close enough to the craft to find the trail start so I fired a round from the rifle. Almost instantly the fuselage was vacated by Pellucidar's scavengers. I knew this would not last-in fact the scavengers might become impatient and attack us-so I investigated immediately. The spare fuel cans were intact. The P-38 could be refueled, but that was not the most important thing on my mind. Looking down at the dirt around the plane I picked out a slim footprint that had to belong to Ee-la-nah. I whistled to Lightning. Pointing to the spoor, I said: "Go find her, boy!" The big cat's great head bent down until the points of his down-curving fangs almost impaled his tawny breast. He glanced up at me with a rumbling meow. I nodded and pointed again. He got the idea and started off, glancing back only to make sure I followed. Motioning to Salome, I followed, trotting as best I could. The privations of life in Pellucidar had toughened me beyond the limits of my combat experiences on the surface. The way through the trees was fairly clear, since their interlacing trees kept out the sun except in dazzling shafts at intervals. Otherwise, the forest was dark and gloomy, and our footfalls seemed unnaturally loud through the colonnade of trunks. I saw few creatures, but heard their passing rustling in the forest as lesser beasts ran at our not-too-subtle approach. It was only by God's grace that we encountered no giant carnivores either reptile or mammal. Salome shrank so close to me that I could feel the trim of her clothing and the warmth of her body. It gave me little pleasure, though. My mind was almost wholly focused on finding Ee-la-nah. Lightning gave a warning growl. I was sure that we had closed on them and brought my carbine bear, then I heard a groan from behind a rubbery tangle of roots. Leaping around the trunk, weapon ready, I discovered not my beloved but Giuseppe prostrate and filthy. Blood lay in brown streaks across his abdomen. He was so covered with grime that he looked more like one of his country's former Ethiopian colonists. Putting away my rifle, I bent to examine him. As I did, a cloud of flies and other insects rose to circle in annoyance. He suffered from several deep lacerations along his stomach and ribs, but none so deep as to reach his vitals. I washed Giuseppe's wounds with water from our supplies. This ministration caused him some discomfort. He awakened with a grimace of pain. "It's me," I said as he weakly struggled. Giuseppe subsided, though he was not clearly focused until he managed to take some water. "My friend," he said as I bandaged his wounds with the meager supplies that I had brought with me from the P-38's first aid kit. He fainted as I bound his wounds, then revived moments later. The Italian's eyes focused on mine. "Giuseppe?" I asked. "I am living," he said, clutching his side with a wry smile that was neither wry or a smile. It was a grimace. "What happened?" I asked. "That plane came a giant bat from Hell," he said, pausing with an occasional wince as I ministered to him. "I knew you couldn't fight him dragging us, so the release cable. I let her go. I tried to land on the grass, but glider pilot I damn good dirigible engineer." The Italian's laugh was caught mid humor by a pain spasm. Giuseppe caught his breath Closing his eyes, the small man continued. "She went in the trees. We throw around. The Mahar, she get cut a little. Make her mad. She whistle like Mt. Etna. Then, she stare at the girl. Girl-she holds head like it hurts worse than after a three-day drunk. "I get up and yell at the Mahar but it kicks me good and out the plane I go. Then, she grabs girl and go into the woods. Well, I got these marks on me and they hurt like I been in a knife fight with a consigliore, but I am not going to let that overgrown newt with wings get away, so I jump up and run after them. After a while, I start to hurt worse, and then I lose them, so I faint, then got up, then drag myself to...I do not remember...and here are you." "You're lucky you aren't dead," I said, finishing up. "We'll get some food in you and see if you can travel. Did Ee-la-nah say anything before you lost sight of her?" "Sure, sure," Giuseppe licked his lips looking anguished. I gave him another drink. "She said 'Phutra!'" the little Italian said. Softer, more privately, he added: "Tell Byron-Jasper-Wells I love him'." Blinking twice, stunned by the words, yet thrilled like any Burroughs hero, which I am not, the expression made me dizzy. Several moments passed before I could speak. "Plain enough," I said. "They're headed for Phutra. We'll get back to the plane and beat them there. Salome can help me load the extra fuel and we'll fly there. If I had just one thousand pounder, I'd threaten to blow that city to kingdom come if that refugee from a King Kong movie wouldn't let her go." "Well, we don't got that," Giuseppe said. "We have a crazy American, a cut-up Italian mechanic, a saber-tooth tiger and a girl from the moon. That makes the odds about even, I guess." I laughed as we sat down for some food. Later, Giuseppe said that he felt well enough to get back to the plane, so I helped him to stand. He wobbled unsteadily and I grabbed him around the waist. "Give me a hand, Salome!" I growled when she did not bounce up to give me a hand with the Italian. The woman frowned petulantly, but acquiesced, lending a soft shoulder on Giuseppe's opposite side. We half-carried the small man back to the plane and though he said nothing, I realized he felt worse than he let on. By the time we got to the P-38, he was in constant pain and his wounds were beginning to stain the bandages. I knew we had to let him rest a while, so I made camp just inside the trees amid the wreckage of the glider. While Giuseppe slept, I loaded the extra fuel in the glider and stripped what useable items from it that I could. The enemy plane had punched a couple of holes in my crate, but I patched them up after making sure no serious damage was done. I figured I could cram Giuseppe in with the rest of us and still have plenty of power to take off if the grass didn't slow me down too much. Giuseppe slept on, so I took the time to mash down the grass as best I could in a path that I though I would use on take-off. When I returned, I found that he was still asleep, so I decided to rest myself. I chafed at not being able to fly up and go to Phutra, but Giuseppe had been a loyal friend, and I had risked his life enough on the trek back to the plane. He had to rest and heal before I put him on a bumpy plane ride. I gathered dead wood and made a large fire using parts of the glider for tinder. I figured this would keep away all but the largest predators, and even they would think twice. Once the fire was going, I made another one on the opposite side of us and hoped it would conceal us. I threw down a fur from the glider and prepared for a short snooze. Lightning looked hungry, or so I thought. "Hunt," I told him. "I think we'll be fine for awhile." I waved at the surrounding woods and the great cat cavorted with glee and charged into the brush. Fatigue began to creep on me and I lay down. No sooner had my eyes closed, though, than I felt a warm form press itself against me. Opening my eyes, I found Salome, her nose nearly touching mine. I was too stunned to move. I stole a glance at Giuseppe, but he was blithely snoring. "What are you doing?" I whispered. "Your man is there, hurt. Snuggle up to him." "He may die," she said, dark eyes studying me. "The Mahar will eat the slave girl. I have watched you. You are strong, and brave, and handsome. You tame this metal thipdar, and you tame Salome. There is no man like you, either on Pellucidar, or above it, on my home. Mate with me, and I will give you all you desire in a she. You will have many strong children." "I love Ee-la-nah," I told her. "Go to Giuseppe." "How can you love that which is no more? As for him, he is short and makes much foul air. You are for me, and I am for you." At that she dragged my head down to meet her waiting lips. Her unvarnished desire had no effect on me except to make me angry. No sooner had our mouths touched than I thrust her roughly from me. She rolled so far that the hem of her skirt touched the bonfire and began to catch. She jumped up quickly and beat it out with her hands. "I am not for you," I told her. "You are Giuseppe's, and if you continue to act this way, I will leave you at the first tribe of Neanderthals I find." Fire blazed in her eyes and her face turned purple. "You spurn Salome!" She shrieked. "I hate you! You will never have that pale little thing! The Mahar has eaten her! The Mahar will eat you too." "Shut up," I told her, "or I will take you over my knee and give you a spanking." "I hate you!" She screamed again, and ran into the forest. My anger cooled as she disappeared. I was sure that she would come back after she calmed down. Armed only with that little stone knife, she wouldn't last a New York minute in this world. I lay down and don't remember falling asleep, but I must have. I awoke to something hard poking me in the back. "Those teeth hurt, Lightning," I said. The prodding did not stop, so I turned over. Facing me was a half-circle of men in black leather clothes. The foremost was holding what appeared to be a long barreled pistol, now pointed directly between my eyes. The most remarkable thing about this group, however, was that they were all a head shorter than average and were pale with big luminous eyes just like Ee-la-nah!
CHAPTER SEVEN - THE BLACK ACES OF DOOM
I was at a lost to figure how I had been so surprised. Lightning was nowhere to be found and Giuseppe lay still, his chest barely moving. I knew that I must have been exhausted, so deeply asleep that I had not heard the enemy's approach. I sat up slowly, and the pistol never wavered from my head. I noted that its wielder had the same corn silk-type hair as Ee-la-nah, save that his was closely cropped with a short, comma-shaped forelock. Pale blue eyes drilled into me as steady as the black steel of the pistol. I noticed that it was slender, probably no more than .30 caliber. Glancing past him, I saw an odd object next to my aircraft. I suddenly wished that Giuseppe was awake, because the thing looked like a pocket dirigible. It was a plump torpedo, painted black like the mystery aircraft I had shot down. Below the rigid gas cells was a cabin that ran the length of the ship, tapering in the rear until it melded into a framework of rudder and elevators. Two engines powered the ship, jutting from the rear half of the cabin. For all its complexity, I doubt the ship was a hundred feet long. Slowly, I held up my hands in surrender. As I did so, Salome arose from behind my captors and pointed me out over the shoulder of the one who held the pistol. "There," she hissed. "He is the one who tried to assault me." "That's a lie!" I said, purpling. "I don't know who you fellows are, but this woman is a lying tramp. As soon as her mate here was incapacitated, she threw herself at the first available man, which was me. I guess she helped you sneak up on me." "We ask the questions here, if you don't mind," the man said. "Take that pistol." One of his men grabbed my gun. At that point, I did not have a Pellucidarian word for "pistol". The leader used a word, his lackey grabbed my pistol, so I learned it by inference. Another man snatched up my carbine. They were all armed with the tiny machine pistols. One fellow did have another weapon slung over his shoulder by a strap that had several clips attached to it in a bandolier fashion. They were not what I expected of the population of Pellucidar. With their fairly modern weapons, they seemed as alien as I. "Now," the leader continued. "We can conduct this in a reasonable manner. The woman claims you assaulted her. She intercepted us upon landing and told us her story, claiming you were asleep. She was a great deal of help." "She claims she is from the moon, also," I said. "I don't love her, and don't want her. I love another, a slave girl named Ee-la-nah." If the leader could have grown paler, he would have. His luminous eyes widened. "Ee-la-nah is alive?" He demanded. "I don't know," I said. "She was kidnaped by a Mahar and it took her to Phutra. This woman treated her like dirt." "You have served the cause well," the leader said to Salome. "You delivered this enemy of the people to me. Here is your reward." He whirled on her and his pistol spoke once. A small crimson hole appeared in Salome's forehead and she collapsed to the sward. The leader returned to face me without further regard to her corpse. "She was a liar and a traitor," he stated, face as calm as if he had changed records on a Victrola. "You can't trust that sort of woman. I believe your story." "Well, you didn't have to kill her," I said. "Shooing her off to fend for herself would have been good enough." "I suppose it would be more merciful to have her try to escape being torn apart by some creature," he smirked. "You will take me to Phutra. You will also show me how to fly your ship. It is much better than those we possess. If you cooperate, and Ee-la-nah is rescued, then you shall live to serve the Race. Failure will result in a fate similar to that offal behind me." "Where are you from?" I demanded. "What do you want with Ee-la-nah?" He smiled at me, bringing the barrel of his pistol so close to my nose that I could feel its heat. "Remember, I ask the questions. It can do no harm to tell you, since you will not escape. We are males of the Race. Unlike that lying wench I dispatched, we are actually from the moon. For untold sleeps we have labored, taming the herds that roam our world, using up any available space when our population increased. We have had to be clever, far cleverer than these half-wits down here. We thought of machines to dig into our world, to light underground living chambers, to allow the Race to expand. "We have grown until we threaten the grazing lands of the herds that sustain us. We must find new living space. We have chosen the lush forests and plains here. As for Ee-la-nah, she is to be my mate." I was stunned by this revelation. Salome had lied from the start. She was not from the moon, but Ee-la-nah! My anger for the pasty little man before me grew until I felt I could break him and his companions into little pieces. If I twitched the wrong way, though, I knew he would not hesitate to shoot me. "A last question, since you have been gracious. What is your name, man of the moon?" "Jehoida, if you must know. Now, we must hurry to save my mate."
No sooner did he speak these words than a savage growl split the warm air of Pellucidar. I looked to see Lightning break from the trees in an express train charge. Four of the moon men turned toward him, and Jehoida pointed his little pistol. The action got pretty confusing, and when I got to my feet, three of the moon men were dead, the rest gone, including Jehoida. The guy with my carbine was still screaming until Lightning closed his fangs through his throat. I slung on my carbine, found my pistol and three of the slender machine pistols of the moon men. The reminded me of those broom-handle Mausers that the Nazis used. Giuseppe had come to enough to figure out what was going on. He looked around and despaired. "Dio Mio!" he exclaimed. "What has happened? Salome!" He crawled to her and cradled her to his chest. "Oh, my dolce amore, what have they done to you? You know, Byron, we never spoke of love, but we were like mates, yes. Who are these beasts, that they shoot innocent women?" It was hard for me to bite off a remark about Salome's innocence, but for Giuseppe's sake, I did so. Without revealing her vile betrayal, I told him what had happened. "Are you strong enough to stand?" I asked. "Yes, I think so. We must bury Salome." He tried to pick her up, but his strength failed. "No time," I explained. "I'll carry her into the glider and we can wrap her up there. We've got to get out of here before that bunch regroups and comes back shooting." I wrapped Salome in furs and carried her body to the shattered glider. I laid her down in the rear section as gently as I could. I tried to think of some words to say over her, but all I could say was something about her not deserving to be shot in cold blood. I went back to Giuseppe, who had composed himself enough to stand. I handed him one of the little pistols and we got to the plane. Beside it was moored the little dirigible from the moon. Giuseppe examined its design quickly and checked its fuel tanks. He felt that its fuel would probably burn in the p-38, so we topped off with it. Briefly we considered making off with the dirigible, but Giuseppe was in no shape to fly it, so I took several clips of ammunition and some loose instruments, then set it on fire. We got the P-38 going and I revved the engines good before trying to get through the tall grass. It snatched at the wheels and the props sent up blizzards of cut grass, but we got off the ground. Lightning used the time to lick the blood from his paws. I examined the map. Phutra and Sari lay in opposite directions. I immediately thought of going to Phutra and told Giuseppe. "I know you want to save her," he said, "but there is something bigger here. These moon men, the Race, they call themselves, are planning mischief. A settlement, and invasion, something. This Emperor of Pellucidar in Sari, David Innes, he must know what is going to happen. You have said he has guns, yes?" "Yes, but they are simple muskets. He has no airplanes." "Even more so that we must tell him, so he can prepare. But, he does have one airplane, si?" "Not that I know of. He had one that flew backwards, I think." "He has yours." Behind us, the dirigible's gasbags blew up in a spectacular fireball. Obviously, helium was hard to find on Pellucidar's moon. My emotions battled with my good sense, and I finally yielded to the latter. Turning the nose of the P-38, I headed back toward Sari, the capital of David Innes' empire. It was tougher for me to put distance between myself and my beloved than anything I had previously gone through. All the untold weeks building the distillery and refining the aviation fuel was nothing in comparison. I had to remind myself that I was at war again, and that my needs were outweighed by the needs of people I had never met. Still, I felt a kinship with them, a solidarity to their cause. The map was crudely drawn, but it took little effort for me to spot Sari. It was unlike either Korsar or the Mahar city. The majority of buildings were still huts, but through them ran the black ribbon of a railroad. Several large buildings lay in an orderly design of streets, and they looked much like those of an American city. Farther beyond I saw factories trailing plumes of smoke into Pellucidar's previously unsoiled air. Korsar had its Old World Charm, the Mahar city is monolithic underground splendor, but Sari was a hodgepodge of culture spanning millennia. I took one circle around the city, watching people scurry around as I passed over. I took note of one building that reminded me of one of those Norman Rockwell country schoolhouses, complete with a large playing field beside it. The playing field was what really drew my interest. It was the flattest surface I had encountered since entering the earth's core, and I made another pass to line up with it. Giuseppe pointed and I saw that the initially surprised residents were coming together in clumps. As I dropped lower to make my landing. I saw that some clumps were dressed in heavier clothing and carried what looked like long-barreled rifles. I came in level, and almost had to abort when the landing gear had trouble deploying. I assumed it was from grass stuck in the wheel wells. They went down at the last second and I taxied in, making the smoothest landing since that U-boat shot me up. The hard-packed earth was a perfect runway. I turned the plane to face the city and switched off the motors. As the blades stopped turning, I threw back the canopy. "Wave and smile," I suggested. "Those rifles look pretty deadly." "I can barely stand and you want me to smile, much less wave?" Giuseppe sighed. "What about Lightning? His smile is frightening." "We'll have to hope he isn't hungry," I said. "Come on. They might start shooting if we don't hurry." I climbed out slowly, hands high when I wasn't holding on to the plane, and moved slowly, yet easily. I smiled the whole time. By now, a cordon of muscular warriors who carried rifles similar in pattern to British Enfields from the last century surrounded the plane. They wore armor that looked like it was made of jointed pieces of thick hide and carried iron axes at their hips. "I am here to see David Innes," I said in a clear voice, still smiling. The cordon blinked as Lightning slinked down and rubbed his tawny flank against my leg.
"Are you Jason Gridley?" the man rumbled. "He is the only man to fly one of these things and know David Innes." "No, I am not," I admitted. "My name is Byron Jasper Wells. I am an American, like David Innes, and I have grave news for him. This is my friend Giuseppe, and my pet tarag Lightning." "Truly you must be from the same place as David Innes, to have such a machine and command a tarag. I am Ghak, called by some the Hairy One. I will take you and your friend to David Innes. He is currently meeting with a delegation from Thuria, and also has a guest from Zoram. Come!" I did as he bade, confident that after my meeting, we would find a way to defeat the invaders from the moon and rescue my love from the clutches of the Mahar.
CHAPTER EIGHT - WAR OF THE WORLDS
None of my training in the Army Air Corps prepared me for the things I had experienced in Pellucidar, the world at the Earth's center. Nothing I had gone through in Pellucidar up to this point prepared me for my visit with David Innes, the Emperor of Pellucidar (though, in fact, his empire encompassed but a fraction of the Inner World). I accompanied the huge warrior king Ghak the Hairy one, while Lightning followed at my heel. Giuseppe was being taken to a hospital. I still smile when I think of the sight we made. Even in the savage world of Pellucidar, the natives of Sari gave Lightning a wide berth. For his part, the tarag growled menacingly, but I could tell by the look in his eye that he was enjoying himself making the gilaks cringe. As I have said, the city of Sari is a hodgepodge of buildings seemingly from various eras, but I was to learn that different styles of buildings were produced as builders and architects gained knowledge of new techniques. Stucco and brick buildings crowded mud huts. The broad ribbon of the railroad bisected the town, and cobblestone roads radiated from its bustling railroad yard. On a small rise dominating the city was a tall building of roughly dressed stone. By its grandeur and the number of fur-clad guards who marched around carrying their incongruous muskets, I knew it had to be the palace of David Innes. Barbaric as they were, the guards saluted smartly as Ghak approached. He was admitted through large doors of polished wood, and there met a runner who went ahead to alert the Emperor. Presently, this worthy returned to inform Ghak that David Innes would see us immediately. I was pleased, but felt self-conscious and tried to straighten my soiled and tattered uniform as best I could. Admonishing Lightning to be on his best behavior, we followed Ghak through another set of brass-valved polished doors. I expected the furnishings of an Emperor's throne room to be elaborate and gaudy, full of tapestries, with lots of ornaments and valuable items jammed into various corners, but the court of David Innes was unlike anything |
To the south was probably a beach resort full of Hawaiian beauties, or I'd wake up and find I had dozed off during the patrol. Either sounded pretty good, certainly a lot better than dealing with a bunch of cavemen and lizards!
It was the break I was looking for. I slugged him right across the back of his blonde head and his pistol went flying. The guy who grabbed my carbine turned on me and gave me a swat. I have to say one thing for these moon men. They might be short but they sure are fast. He clipped me good and I went backward over Giuseppe, who groaned loudly and reached up his hands to grapple with me.
One man, several inches taller than me, stepped from behind the ring of warriors. He was older and more thickly built than the others, and dark hair swirled across every exposed part of his body. He carried no rifle, but instead hefted a double-headed iron axe whose blades were wider than the size of my hand from wrist to fingertips. His face was stern, but no angry.