Mind Wizards of Callisto

Chapter 16 In Search of the Castaways

And now it is I, Zastro―whom Jandar has called the “sage” and “savant” of the Ku Thad―who must take up the pen let fallen from his hand, to record something of those events whereof I am the witness.

Whether or not I am truly the “wise man” the Prince of Shondakor has so often named me, I must leave to the estimate of my peers and to the judgment of posterity. It is, however, true that in a world of warriors and adventurers, the passion which has consumed my years is the curious desire for abstract information, and the even more curious desire to grasp what little can be understood of the laws of nature and of the workings of the minds and hearts of my fellow beings.

Since this is but the simple truth, my reader (if any) can readily appreciate what a treasure-trove of tantalizing mysteries Prince Jandar represents in my eyes. To meet and to converse with an intelligent being from another world was an opportunity so remote from the furthest reaches of possibility, that I could not have anticipated such a dream might ever become reality. Thus, from the first moment I encountered the Prince, I have seized upon every opportunity to query him concerning the mysterious world from whence he came, and the creatures, strange to me but familiar to him, who make of that distant world their home. And in recompense for the knowledge he generously saw fit to impart to me, I have shared with him whatever poor lore or learning of my own he might desire.

On this matter of language I fear I permitted my curiosity to stray completely beyond the bounds of prudence. We men of Thanator, you see, of whatever race or nation, share between us one and one only common tongue. Thus it has ever been, and the fact seems to my ignorant mind only fit and natural. Why should two men have two different words for “tree” or “moon” or “water”? Indeed, how could two different words describe the identical thing? For all that these hypothetical two men dwell far apart, is not “water” still and always “water,” in whatever land or realm these two might chance to dwell?

The fact had seemed so thoroughly self-evident to me that not only had I never chanced to question its veracity, I had never even thought of it before my first meeting with Jandar the Earthling. Yet here was a man who had needed to be taught the universal language spoken by all men, even by the arthropods of the Yathoon horde! The very concept of “another language” was so startling in its novelty as to consume my imagination. Quite simply, I could not rest until I “learned” this Jandarian tongue myself.

In this effort the prince kindly assented to assist me, although I fear my questionings must have become wearying and importunate. But we learned together, he and I―he the written characters and the modes of punctuation in that tongue that only he would have thought to label “the Thanatorian,” and I the weird intricacies of both spoken and written “English”―as he, quite inexplicably, says is the name of the language spoken in his native land, the “United States.” I should have thought the tongue would naturally have been called “Unitedstatesian,” but such, he has informed me, smilingly, is not the case.

So much for my acquaintance, such as it is, with the language spoken upon the Earth. I insert this boring digression into a narrative of perils and exploits as much to explain my lamentable errors in what I write, as to justify them.* But now permit me to resume the narrative at the point at which I possess information unknown to our lost friends.

When dawn broke on the morning after the night during which Lukor and Koja set out from the Jalathadar to search the mountain-country for some sign of Jandar or Tomar or of the amazing winged men who had―as far as we knew―carried them off after the battle on the bridge, the fact that the Yathoon and the Ganatolian were inexplicably missing was discovered almost at once when they did not appear at breakfast with their fellow-officers.

In consternation lest the winged men (whom I must accustom myself to calling “the Zarkoon”) had raided the airship on a second occasion during the same night, Prince Valkar, as vice-admiral of the expedition, ordered the Jalathadar searched thoroughly. And by this means it was before mid-morning firmly established that Koja and Lukor were in truth no longer aboard.

Happily for our peace of mind, the mystery proved of very brief duration, for almost simultaneously was it also discovered that one of the gigs or skiffs was likewise missing. It did not require much thought to perceive that these two facts obviously bore relation to each other; in fact, recalling that both Lukor and Koja had argued forcefully and eloquently at the midnight council that a search for the prince and his youthful companion should commence immediately, rather than awaiting the coming of daylight, Valkar instantly guessed that the, impulsive sword-master had recklessly taken matters into his own hands, with the collusion of the faithful Yathoon.

“So now we have four missing persons to find!” Valkar swore, although the severity of his tones were belied by a slight grin of reluctant admiration. “Curse that old rapscallion!” he chuckled, “or do I mean `bless him’? Well, at any rate, I find it difficult to condemn any man who puts his loyalty to a friend so far above a devotion to abstract duty.”

It was decided to emulate the covert designs of the Ganatolian adventurer at once. Search-parties were dispatched in the other skiffs to explore the terrain at close quarters, while the four great ornithopters which comprised the armada were dispatched to cruising above the mountains in the four cardinal directions. It was thought likely that, even should the skiffs find no trace of our missing friends on the peaks and slopes and summits, the four mighty galleons of the clouds, with their greater range, might spy the skiff in the distance, if still airborne, or chance to view a flight of the winged men (I mean, the Zarkoon).

All that long day we searched, and much of the night, and all of the two days and nights which followed. That we discovered absolutely no trace of either the skiff or the Zarkoon or of our lost friends may be assigned to the obvious fact that we did not know what to look for, with any precision, nor in which direction to look for it.

It was as if the mountains had opened a great mouth in their flanks and swallowed them, skiff and Zarkoon and all. It was all very mysterious. More than that, it was frightening. Especially since the insufferable Dr. Abziz (a savant for whom I have much the same opinion as Lukor’s) frequently made reference to the cannibalistic nature the sagas and old tales assign to the legended Zarkoon.

Even to those among us most adamant in our determination to find Jandar and the other lost members of the expedition, it soon became obvious that we could not continue the search much longer. Every day we remained here searching―every hour we circled and circled the skies―increased the risk that the Mind Wizards might discover our presence in their hemisphere, and might guess the nature of our mission. And thus we should lose the one slender advantage we possessed―the factor of surprise.

Thus, on the following day, a council of the leaders of the expedition was convened in the stateroom of the flagship at the request of Prince Valkar, acting in the absence of Jandar as his vice-admiral. The issues under discussion centered, of course, upon the present problem: should the armada continue its search for our lost comrades, or should it continue the flight against Kuur?

Not one person at that council argued that Jandar, Koja, Lukor and the youth Tomar should be given up as dead. Many and eloquent were the arguments presented in defense of a continuation and an extension of the search. And yet, with considerable reluctance, it was readily admitted that this unanticipated delay in the expedition could only work to the good of the villainous Mind Wizards, and that every hour the expedition was delayed by the search increased the possibilities that the shadowy Lords of Kuur might discover the armada in their skies. Yet what was to be done? To simply fly away, leaving the Prince of Shondakor and his friends and courtiers to their unknown fate would be despicable and obviously repugnant to all at the council.

It was left to Zantor of the Xaxar to propose the solution to this dilemma which was eventually adopted. It will be recalled that Jandar had first met and become friends with this former corsair captain of the Sky Pirates during his last period of imprisonment in the City in the Clouds. Jandar had been captured by the slavers of Narouk, one of the city-states of the Perushtarian Empire* who periodically paid a tribute in human flesh to the aerial buccaneers. Having fallen from the favor of Prince Thuton, monarch of Zanadar, because of his more humane treatment of his captives, the former captain of the frigate Xaxar had been himself degraded to the level of a slave, and fought among the gladiators of Zanadar. Among the warriors of the arena Zantor had won a high place, due to his bravery and his prowess in the martial arts, as well as to his natural powers of leadership.

When Jandar and his comrade, Ergon, were consigned to the Pits of Zanadar and were doomed to fight among the gladiators in the games, Zantor had befriended them. Jandar had been instrumental in saving Zantor’s life when a conspiracy, led by Prince Thuton’s favorite, Panchan the Golden, had attempted to poison him before a gladiatorial contest. Thus, when, in the fullness of time, Jandar made his break for freedom during the annual games, Zantor and the former buccaneers of his crew, who had been consigned to the Pits of the arena to fight and die beside their captain, led a mutiny among the gladiators in support of Jandar’s fight for freedom. It was this unexpected slave revolt which had proved the decisive factor in the struggle of the free and sovereign states of Thanator against the aerial tyranny of the Sky Pirates. Prince Thuton was slain by Jandar’s own sword in that revolt, and the Sky Pirates were crushed for all time, and their very city itself had been destroyed.

From the holocaust which enveloped Zanadar, Jandar and most of the rebellious gladiators had escaped in the Jalathadar, which had arrived in the proverbial nick of time to participate in the battle which destroyed the City in the Clouds. One other aerial galleon had escaped the cataclysm and that was the Xaxar itself, for Zantor and his loyal crew had escaped from the arena into the streets of the city, managing to reach their ship, which was moored at the sky-docks, and cast off in time to join the Jalathadar in the last battle wherein Zanadar was whelmed and brought down to flaming ruin. From that day to this, Jandar has had no more loyal or more faithful friend than Zantor of Zanadar. Forswearing their former allegiance to the throne of Prince Thuton, the ex-corsair and his entire crew of sky-going buccaneers had become loyal citizens of the Golden City, and had formed, in fact, the original nucleus of the new Shondakorian sky navy.

These facts being well known to all present at the council, it was a surprise to none when Zantor spoke up, offering a plan of his own which he thought could serve to resolve the dilemma. The giant warrior is a grim and somber man of few words, little given to making speeches. But in this particular case his simple eloquence served him well.

“My lords, I suggest the armada resume its expedition against the Mind Wizards of Kuur,” Zantor said, when the vice-admiral had yielded the floor in his favor.

“You do not believe, then, Captain Zantor, that we should continue the search for our lost comrades?” Prince Valkar asked, permitting an expression of surprise to appear on his features.

The grim-faced giant shook his head.

“You did not permit me to finish,” he said. “I was going to suggest that the armada voyage on to Kuur, leaving my own ship, the Xaxar, behind to prosecute the search for Jandar and the others.”

The Princess of Tharkol spoke up at this point.

“You then feel, Captain Zantor, that one ship may succeed where four ships have failed?”

“I don’t know, Princess,” admitted Zantor stolidly.

“I but make the suggestion in the nature of a compromise. To hold the entire armada here is obviously to jeopardize the success of our mission of war against the Mind Wizards. Yet to depart entirely from these mountains were to abandon our admiral, the Prince of Shondakor, and our dear friends, to an unknown fate―which would be callous, unfaithful and inhumane. It is quite possible that one ship such as the Xaxar may in truth fail to find the whereabouts of our lost comrades, yet the attempt must and should be made, for it is yet too soon to give up hope that Jandar and the others yet live. It also seems unwise, to my way of thinking, to tie up the entire armada in this search. As I see it, my lords, the expedition has at this time two purposes. The first is to find, if possible, and, if possible, to rescue, our lost friends. This the Xaxar may well be able to accomplish, through vigilance and luck. The other is to invade and conquer or destroy the country of the Mind Wizards; and I see no reason why the three remaining vessels in the armada, lacking only the assistance of the Xaxar, should not be able to accomplish this second purpose, so long as it has not lost the valuable advantage of surprise.”

“I agree with Zantor, and volunteer to join his crew,” ugly, loyal-hearted Ergon growled.

“And I, too, would like to lend my slight, inconsequential skills to the success of this mission,” chirruped the sly little one-eyed thief, Glypto. His volunteering was most unexpected, but Zantor seemed to welcome it, for he favored the odd, quaint, cunning little guttersnipe with a friendly nod and a slight smile. Doubtless he recalled to mind the good service and faithful assistance the little rogue had given to Prince Jandar and Princess Darloona only a few months before, when it had eventually come to light that the thieving rascal was, in actuality, not a spawn of the Tharkolian gutters at all, but the brilliantly ingenious and resourceful master-spy of the Seraan of Soraba, our trusted ally in this venture.* Glypto, although no warrior, had volunteered for service aboard Zamara’s flagship, the Conqueress, as part of the Soraban contingent. That the wily little fellow had conceived of a warm admiration for Prince Jandar was widely known; thus his volunteering to assist in searching for the lost prince should really have come as no particular surprise to the members of the council. It is just that, due to his consummate skills as an actor, we were all so accustomed to thinking of him as a whimpering, cowardly little sneak thief, and his speaking up at this time to join a desperate and dangerous quest seemed somehow out of character.

Close upon Glypto’s bid to join the crew of the Xaxar, half a dozen more of Jandar’s trusted friends and comrades spoke up to beg the same privilege. Laughingly, Valkar lifted a hand to silence them.

“We’re going to have to draw the line after Glypto, I think,” he said smilingly, “or half of the warriors on the expedition will be crowding aboard the Xaxar in order to help rescue Jandar, and that would leave the rest of the armada somewhat undermanned! However, there’s much good sense in what Captain Zantor has proposed, and the leaving behind of one ship should not seriously impair the fighting efficiency of the armada. Let us put Zantor’s plan to a vote…”

Chapter 17 The Quest of Zantor

Needless to say, the council voted overwhelmingly in the affirmative to give Zantor’s plan a try. But Zantor himself spoke up, over-ruling Valkar’s half-hearted objection to the addition of new members to the crew of the Xaxar. He pointed out, in a reasonable fashion, that certain of us possessed skills which might be of greater use and value to the search for the lost prince than to the expedition of war. Valkar saw the sense of this and withdrew his objection, leaving it up to Zantor himself to choose between the many who clamored. for the privilege of a place on the Xaxar.

In all modesty, I must here admit that the first to speak up after this ruling was myself. Considering my years, I can hardly claim to be either a warrior or an adventurer, but I pointed out to Valkar that we might discover some message left behind by Jandar, and that, as I was the only person in all the armada who had become acquainted with his native tongue, English, I should be permitted to join the expedition against that contingency. This was agreed to. And then another individual, also no warrior, spoke up to demand room be made for him aboard the Xaxar. That he volunteered for such a dangerous mission truly came as a surprise to all―for it was none other than the puffed-up and argumentative little geographer from Soraba, Dr. Abziz!

“But, doctor, we will certainly be calling upon your skills as a geographer in our own search, for the whereabouts of Kuur have yet to be ascertained,” said Prince Valkar in considerable puzzlement at this unexpected request.

“Nonsense!” snorted the acerbic little Soraban. “In Ang Chan’s medallion-map you have what can only be assumed to be an accurate representation of the territories surrounding the secret citadel of the Mind Wizards. And in the maps and charts and notes I have already had copied and distributed among the several ships of this armada you already possess everything I know or can conjecture regarding the terrain of this hemisphere. From this point forward in time, my presence upon the Jalathadar becomes superfluous, and as it is my express desire and plan and purpose to join in the search for the lost members of the expedition, I expect you, sir, to accede to my request.”

“Very well. We shall leave it to Captain Zantor, as it is his decision to make.”

Zantor then, in his serious way, inquired if Dr. Abziz had any particular reason for wishing to join in the search for Prince Jandar, to which the little geographer replied, “My desire to assist in the rescue of Prince Jandar is purely altruistic; however, in the case of certain other members of the expedition who are lost, strayed or stolen, my motives are more selfish.”

“What do you mean?”

“I refer to one Lukor of Ganatol,” the doctor said shortly, with a little gleam of malicious humor in his eye. “That gentleman and I have been at odds to a certain extent, as many of the members of this council must be aware. Now that my principal duties have been accomplished, and my further presence aboard this flagship has become superfluous, I should dearly love to take part in the rescue of Lukor of Ganatol, if only to view the expression on that gentleman’s face when he discovers that, for his rescue, he is at least in part beholden to me!”

We laughed over that, as you may imagine. I can well picture how discomfited Lukor would be, to find out that the conceited little Soraban whom he had delighted in baiting, had taken part in the dangerous mission to effect his rescue!

Following this, the council ended its meeting, deciding to give the Xaxar thirteen days in which to search for the lost prince and his companions, before rejoining the expedition at a locale specifically noted on the map. As did Dr. Abziz and Ergon and Glypto, I then went to my quarters, packed my gear, and moved to new quarters aboard the Xaxar.

A short while later the armada formed again into its chevron formation and, exchanging by means of signal flags a salute and best wishes with the Xaxar, sailed off into the east and, before long, dwindled from sight, vanishing motes in the glaring golden skies.

Then began the lonely quest of the Xaxar to find out what peculiar fate had overcome Jandar of Shondakor …

As the armada had already searched, in a general fashion, the vicinity of the mountains of the Zarkoon, as we later learned was their name, we first voyaged rather extensively to the south, then the west, and then the north. Much new geographical information was added to our maps during these specific ventures, each of which, I might add, consumed on the average about three days and nights. It was purely an accident of chance which caused us to waste these nine days in searching in the wrong direction for the lost members of the expedition, although we could not of course have known this at the time.

Only when, on the morning of the eleventh day after we separated from the armada, with our voyage into the east, did we come to fly over those territories in which Jandar had actually adventured. Our previous ventures, of course, had discovered nothing concerning the fate of our friends; but before long, as we were flying over the ring of mountains which encircled the mysterious and jungle-clad plateau, we experienced the thrill of the long-anticipated discovery.

For there on the smooth and sandy shores of an immense lake we sighted the wreckage of the skiff. It was, I believe, Ergon the Perushtarian who first spotted the wreckage, and the excited cry he voiced aroused the ship’s company. Those who were below came pelting up the stairs to the mid-deck or the various observation belvederes to see what Ergon had discovered.

It was unmistakably the wreckage of the skiff. There was no question about this, for it lay imbedded in the sand in such a position as to cause the one unbroken wing to thrust up at a sharp angle which cast a long shadow across the sand―a shadow of such regularity as to be undoubtedly an artificial, indeed, a man-made, object.

Zantor brought the aerial galleon to a halt and we began to descend to investigate further. From our height at that time it was impossible to tell if any bodies lay strewn about the wreck. We lined the deckrail, jostling shoulder-to-shoulder for the best view, watching with eyes which ached from the strain, dreading to hear―the anticipated cry that some keen-eyed observer had sighted the first body.

But no such cry came, to our immense relief. It would seem, unless they had perhaps been carried off by whatever predators might haunt the unexplored jungles of the plateau, that none of our comrades had been killed in the crackup of the skiff. (We did not at once realize, you will understand, that the skiff had actually fallen into the lake; this fact was not discerned until later, and at this time it was understandable to guess that the skycraft had for some reason crashed into the shore.)

Flying ships such as the Xaxar cannot safely come to rest on the ground, save in special docks specifically designed to that purpose. So, having descended to as low an altitude as Captain Zantor deemed safe, the craft came to a halt and crewmen slid down ropes lowered over the side. The first of these to reach the sand was Ergon, who sprinted for the wreckage, prowled about it, and then emerged to call up to us the wonderful news that no one was in the wreck.

Ergon did not, for some reason, perceive the cairn. In fact, it was Glypto―who stood near me on the deck―who spotted it first and called the attention of those down on the shore to the pile of stones.

Again, we watched with great suspense and excitement as Ergon and the other men carefully pulled the pile of stones apart, found the hole Jandar had caused to be dug beneath it, and drew out the bundle of manuscript the lost prince had therein concealed. This was brought up to the ship at once, and I was summoned to the captain’s stateroom to examine it.

With trembling hands I opened it, and announced to Zantor and the other officers who stood ringed about that it was indeed, as we had naturally already guessed, the work of Prince Jandar. Instead of the paper we Shondakorians employ, the narrative had been set down on some smooth, thin, white substance which resembled bark. And, instead of ink, the writer had used a muddy fluid of indeterminate hue, difficult in several places to make out. As it would obviously take me some hours to read the manuscript, Zantor and the others left me alone in the stateroom for that purpose, and while the rest of the day dragged on, parties of men descended to explore the shore in both directions and to penetrate the edge of the jungle at various points to see if some further traces of our lost companions might be discovered.

I read the manuscript as swiftly but as closely as I could, and thus learned for the first time of the existence of the Zarkoon-world on the interior of one of the mountain-peaks, and of the primitive tribes who inhabited the plateau. All of this material you will have already perused, for I have added this last installment to the large bundle of manuscript Jandar had already completed during the opening phase of our voyage hither.

It was the matter in the final pages, of course, that was most pertinent to our expedition. While it was wonderful to learn that Jandar and Tomar, together with Lukor and Koja, had thus far managed to escape death and to elude their pursuers, the desperate straits in which they stood in peril of momentary recapture just prior to the concealment of the manuscript were of immediate and transcendent importance.

Night had already fallen across the world as I hurried up the winding stair into the pilothouse to apprise the impatient Zantor of what had transpired. I found the giant warrior pacing the bridge with heavy tread. With words tumbling over each other on my tongue, I communicated the perils in which Jandar and the others had stood, according to the last passages of the document, together with information as to what the Prince had planned to do next.

“Then we had best weigh anchor for this peak whereat Jandar had hoped to deposit further information concerning the route they would choose to take, should they manage to elude recapture by the jungle savages,” Zantor murmured. I confirmed his words, and described as best I could the crater-like opening which marked the entrance to the subterranean world of the Zarkoon. This was, you will recall, the landmark Jandar had indicated in the last pages of the manuscript.

We flew thither that very night. By the brilliant light of the moons it was not particularly difficult for us to sight the crater-like hole in the flanks of the mountain. We had, of course, noticed it already, during our search of these very mountains, but at that earlier time we had no particular reason to examine it. Now, towards early morn, we came to hover above the approach to this crater. With archers at the ready, in case the winged men should come out of their cavern home and attempt any action against the ship, we lowered well-armed warriors to the side of the mountain.

For many hours these men searched diligently, without, however, finding any second cairn or other token of Jandar’s presence here.

“Perhaps it proved difficult for some reason to erect a second cairn here,” Glypto argued. “Jandar might have scratched a sign or a message in some prominent place here on the slope, which we cannot make out with clarity until daylight!”

“There is much in what you say, Glypto,” the captain said somberly. “Very well; we shall ascend to the three-thousand-foot level and await daybreak before resuming our search of the mountainside.”

As you may imagine, we got little sleep for the remainder of that night. While parties of vigilant archers stood watch on rotation against any attack on the part of the Zarkoon, those of us who tried at all to sleep tossed and turned in our bunks. In the minds of us all, I am sure, the same questions revolved.

Had Jandar and his companions escaped from the plateau, or had they been recaptured by Jugrid’s jungle men?

If they had managed to elude recapture, had they perchance fallen victim to some monster of the cliffs, or to some predator of the mountains?

Or had they perhaps been attacked by the Zarkoon while ascending the slope of the mountain, and before they had been able to build the cairn Jandar had promised to leave, or to inscribe whatever token or sign of their whereabouts he intended to make for our guidance?

None of these important questions could yet be answered. And that was the reason few of us, if any, got any sleep that night …

When daylight came at last we sent down search-parties amounting to perhaps forty men or more. I accompanied the foremost of these, on the premise that it seemed likely any directions or instructions Jandar had left for us might be in the same language as the manuscript.

We combed the slope of the mountain all that day, without finding the slightest trace that Jandar or any of his companions had ever even reached it. Towards early afternoon Zantor dispatched two skiffs under the command of Ergon and Glypto to explore the ravine at the bottom of the cliffs surrounding the plateau. By nightfall they returned, and again it was to report in the negative. There was no evidence that our lost friends had ever climbed down the cliffs, crossed the ravine, or even entered the mountains which encircled the plateau of the jungle men.

On the following day, which was the thirteenth since we had parted from the armada, Zantor sent heavily armed warriors into the subterranean world of the

Zarkoon to explore that region, hoping perhaps to discover that Jandar or his companions had been seized by the winged men. The Zarkoon fled into the remotest recesses of the immense cavern after several of their number had attacked the skiffs and were either slain or driven off. The cages Jandar had described were found, but they were empty and contained no signs of recent human occupancy. The nesting-place of Skeer, whom Jandar had called the chief of the winged monsters, was likewise discovered and was identified as such on the basis of the descriptions given in Jandar’s manuscript, which I had by now rendered into our own Thanatorian tongue and imparted to my comrades. In that nest was found what Jandar would probably call a “jackdaw’s hoard” of miscellaneous treasures-bones and shells and feathers and teeth and scraps of carven wood and brightly-colored cloth. Rusted implements of human workmanship were found among the bird-man’s loot as well-dagger hilts and broken sword-blades, old dented helmets and odds and ends of jewelry. But not a one of these items could positively be identified as having belonged to Jandar, Tomar, Lukor or Koja.

That night we flew in the Xaxar into the northerly corner of the plateau, and descended in force upon the country of the Jungle People. We found the village deserted, save for the small, thaptor-like fowl domesticated by the jungle men, and a number of stray othodes who scuttled off at our approach. It was easy to surmise that the savages had fled into the jungle at our appearance in the skies. With dawn we spent many wasted hours searching the jungle in hopes of encountering Jugrid’s men, but they evidently knew every place of concealment the dense undergrowth afforded, and we were unsuccessful in this venture as well.

We were by now mid-way into the last day of our expedition. If we were to rejoin the armada, as originally planned, we would have to depart soon. Already, in fact, we had lingered overlong, but Zantor was grimly determined to exhaust every possible avenue of investigation before giving up.

And―just as we were gathering aboard and preparing to up anchor and be off on the voyage to Kuur―at last we made a discovery!

A lone human figure appeared at the edge of the jungle and stood timidly staring up at the gigantic galleon which floated above her head like an astounding apparition conjured into reality by some magician.

Ergon and several crew-members swarmed down the rope ladders to effect her capture. But the child―for she was scarcely more than that―did not attempt to flee back into the shelter of the trees, and waited for them to approach her.

They soon returned to the ship, the jungle maid climbing the ladder with them. As she gained the midship deck, I saw that she was of about an age with Tomar, a long-legged, stunningly attractive girl wearing an abbreviated garment of tanned hides, her long bare arms and legs adorned with primitive jewelry.

“Is your name Ylana, my child?” I called out to her as she climbed nimbly over the rail and stood, staring about her in wonderment. She turned her wide eyes upon me with surprise.

“I am Ylana of the jungle country,” she admitted. “But who are you, old man, and how do you know my name?”

I introduced myself and explained that Jandar had described her in such detail in his manuscript that it was possible for me to guess her identity at a glance. The jungle maid did not understand the method by which Jandar had communicated with me―I gathered from her demeanor that the art of writing was all but unknown to her people―and asked me eagerly if Jandar “and that boy,” by which she evidently referred to Tomar, were aboard.

When I said that they were not, her face clouded and her eyes fell. At Zantor’s suggestion I took her below and offered her food and drink, which she fell upon as though famished. While she satisfied her appetite, I elicited from her, in bits and pieces her own story.

Chapter 18 The Mystery Deepens

“Yes, I know that Jandar and his friends escaped days ago,” the half-starved jungle maid told me there in the cabin as she devoured the meal hastily sent up from the galley. “For the morning after they managed their escape the emissary of the Unseen Ones appeared in the village, and there was a great uproar when the guards stationed outside the prison-cave were found, the one dead, the other one stunned and groggy.”

She made a little expression of distaste. “That brute, Xangan, hastily summoned a war-party and whistled up the hunting othodes, and plunged into the jungles in pursuit of the escaped prisoners.”

“Did he find them, and bring them back?”

“I do not know,” the girl admitted. “In the confusion of the moment I myself managed to elude the attention of the women consigned to watching over me. I snatched up a spear someone had left leaning against a rock, and ran into the jungle. There was so much milling around and people yelling that no one realized I was even gone until sometime after I had made my escape, I am sure.”

“Well, what did you do then?”

She shrugged wearily. “I tried to get through the jungles to the south in order to reach the country of my mother’s people, but I got lost. The hunters of my tribe may know these jungle paths well, but I am less acquainted with them. I have been stumbling around in circles for many days, as well as I can guess. A big lizard treed me for one whole day before giving up and ambling off in search of a dinner that could not climb trees―”

“I thought you told Jandar there were no dangerous beasts in the jungle?”

“Well, I did. The big lizards are troublesome, but fat and slow moving. They would eat you if they could, but a person can easily outrun them, or simply climb a tree and wait for them to move along,” she said.

“Very well―please go on.”

“There’s nothing much more to tell you, Elder,” the girl said, finishing her repast. She evidently assumed we Shondakorians, for all our amazing flying ships, were a tribe essentially like her own; and, come to think of it, she was not far off the mark in addressing me as “Elder,” for my years, and the small store of wisdom I have managed to accumulate during those years, have earned me a position of respect as a senior counselor to my prince and princess: hence I am, in her sense of the word, very much an “Elder.” But I digress―the fault of old men given to garrulous habits, I fear.

The maid continued her story.

“I wandered through the jungle for days, or so it seemed. I tried to slay a beast with my spear, but it got away, taking the spear with it. I ate lizard eggs and some fruit and berries. Then I came out here, almost exactly where I had gone in. I would have ducked back and tried again, but I could not help noticing that the village was empty of people, and the caves deserted. This puzzled me―as you can imagine. And then I saw your―” she fumbled for a word to describe the Xaxar, but, as her primitive vocabulary evidently lacked any term which would adequately apply, she merely gestured around at the cabin.

“It looked very much like the flying log Lukor and the insect-man were riding when they rescued us from the caverns of the Zarkoon,” she said. “So I let myself be noticed, hoping that I was right and that you were friends of Jandar and Tomar.”

“So you know nothing whatsoever about the possible recapture of our lost friends?”

“Nothing at all, I’m sorry to say,” she admitted.

“If Xangan had succeeded in capturing them, would he have taken them to Kuur?” I asked.

“What is Kuur?”

“The country of the Mind Wizards,” I said.

“You mean the Unseen Ones? I don’t know. If there is some reason why the Masters would be very interested in Jandar, they might have done so.”

“Do you know where their country is?”

She shook her head.

“Do you know in which direction it lies, or how far away it is, or how to get there?”

The answer to all of these questions was negative.

I let her rest and bade the steward lay out fresh garments and hot water so that she might wash herself and change her raiment, and went up to the bridge to report to Captain Zantor.

There was nothing more we could do here, he decided reluctantly. And we were overdue to rejoin the rest of the armada. We would take Ylana with us, however. That much at least we could do, for she was desperate to escape from the marriage with Xangan which the Elders of her tribe were adamant in forcing upon her.

We flew across the plateau into the east and before the daylight was extinguished we had traversed the ravine which encircled the jungle plateau and were soaring above the unknown mountains which rose on its further side.

Zantor kept the wheel-gangs working all night to make up for lost time. Under the light of the many moons, we flew for hours over previously unexplored mountains without sighting any sign of human habitation. Over a midnight lunch with Dr. Abziz, neither of us being able to sleep, we discussed the mysteries of this unknown hemisphere. The irascible little geographer was puzzled to find that this side of Thanator, or “Callisto,” as Jandar sometimes called it, was so unlike the side we knew. Most of the known hemisphere is occupied by plains and seas and jungles, with only two ranges of mountains; but the far side seemed almost entirely given over to mountains, and on the whole was harsh and infertile, for the jungles of the plateau were the only extensive regions of lush vegetation we had yet encountered.

“Odd, too, that the side of our planet most familiar to us is the home of so many nations,” the doctor pointed out, tugging thoughtfully on the little spike of beard which was his pride and joy, “while this hemisphere, insofar as we now know, is so very sparsely inhabited. Why, we have yet to find a single city! Nothing here but savage tribes, and those befeathered cannibals!”

By day we reached the meeting-place previously decided upon, but the skies were clear in every direction and there was no sign of the armada. This was a trifle strange, but not necessarily a cause for alarm.

For two days more we lingered at the rendezvous without any sign of the armada. Then, growing increasingly alarmed, we began exploring the territory from the air in an ever-widening circle. We found no sign of human habitation, and no sign of the missing ships, not even their wreckage. Neither did we discover the land of the Mind Wizards, although, from a study of Dr. Abziz’s map, we had a fairly accurate notion of what the terrain in its vicinity should look like from the air.

As time dragged on, it became increasingly evident that something had happened to the armada. We had been a bit late in arriving at the rendezvous-point ourselves; but the armada was very late. We began to speculate that the three missing ships had run into serious trouble.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Ergon growled over dinner one night. “They found Kuur, and attacked it, and were somehow captured or destroyed! If that hadn’t happened, they would surely have met us at the place and time we had agreed. Maybe we were a little late, but they would have waited for us―if they could! But they couldn’t, because by that time they were either dead or imprisoned.”

“Maybe,” Zantor said slowly, rubbing his heavy jaw in a thoughtful fashion. “But if they found Kuur―why can’t we? We’ve been flying around for days, and we have, thus far, covered very many korads. There are mountains beyond numbering, and winding rivers aplenty, but none with the configurations matching those on the silver medallion. How much longer can we continue looking, without finding either the armada, or the Mind Wizards, or both?”

“Eh, sirs,” Dr. Abziz interjected at this point. “I would put the same question, but in a simpler manner: how much longer can we continue looking? Period. For, as you must have noticed from this meager fare set before us, our supplies of food and drink are almost exhausted.”

At this, Glypto spoke up, a gleam of mischief twinkling in his shrewd black eye.

“As Sir Lukor would say, were he but here, perhaps the good doctor thinks too much of his stomach, and not enough of our missing friends! I, for one, will gladly tighten my belt a bit, in order to keep on searching …”

“A scholar of my repute,” Abziz said huffily, fixing one eye on the smirking master-thief with a supercilious expression on his scarlet face, “cares little for the fleshly pleasures, among which is the gross matter of nutriment! But we cannot realistically expect a ship full of young fighting-men to stay in trim for long on such skimpy rations.”

Before long it became distressingly obvious, even to the die-hards among us, that it was futile to continue the search. The quest of the Xaxar had doubly failed―failed not only to discover Jandar’s party, but failed to find the armada, as well.

So there was nothing to do but turn back, and retrace the long voyage back to Shondakor in defeat. We could not prosecute the war against Kuur all by ourselves, for a single ship against a city made for unequal odds. And whatever magic the Mind Wizards had used to destroy the three ships of the armada, they should be able to use against our lone vessel with ease.

But new galleons of the skies were nearing completion with every hour in the shipyards of Tharkol. And valiant warriors by the scores and the hundreds would compete eagerly for the honor of serving aboard the second armada, when it was ready to depart. Distressing as was the sad news we must now bring back to the lords of the Three Cities, at least it was not final.

Jandar, Tomar, Lukor and Koja―their fate was as unknown as were the fates of Valkar and Zamara and all the others. They may have survived the destruction of the fleet, and capture at the hands of the Mind Wizards. At least, until we found unquestionable proof of their deaths―until we found their very graves―we were determined not to give up all hope.

But it was with a heavy heart in every breast that we turned our prow towards Shondakor and set sail for the Golden City of the Ku Thad. I did not look forward to the unpleasant duty of telling Princess Darloona that her beloved mate was either dead, or hopelessly lost, or a prisoner in the unknown country of the Mind Wizards!

I knew the gallant and courageous princess too well to fear that she would utter one word of displeasure towards any of us. She knew we had done the best we could, and that the man does not live upon this planet who could have done more to find the lost warriors. But I dreaded the sadness in her lovely face and the emptiness in her eyes, when she heard the grim news we must bring her …

But yesterday we arrived above Shondakor and moored the lone surviving vessel of the great armada to the upper tiers of the great palace whose spires soar up from the heart of the Golden City.

True to my estimate of her character, Darloona did not let one word of criticism fall from her lips when she heard our halting tale. But the expression of agony which convulsed her features as we told of the unknown fate of Jandar cut me to the heart.

The jungle maid, Ylana, was overwhelmed by the splendor and magnificence of the superb capital of the Ku Thad. But her shy and awkward feelings of being a lonely stranger amid so glorious a throng were swiftly banished by our wonderful princess. Despite the agony she endured, Darloona saw the discomfort Ylana suffered, and embraced the girl, folding her to her heart, and told her she was at home and among friends, and would dwell in a suite all her own near to the apartments Darloona herself inhabited.

And then, instinctively guessing how to set the jungle girl at her ease, she sat down on the steps of the throne, and gave her the infant Prince Kaldar to hold. Soon the maid was beaming smiles, chuckling at the antics of the fat babe, and feeling very much at home.

Despite my weariness I have ridden all night through the Grand Kumala with an escort of Ku Thad warriors.

Now as the titanic bulk of mighty Gordrimator lifts itself over the horizon, I stand before that enigmatic thing of pale green jade which Jandar calls the Gate Between the Worlds. Here it was, upon this very spot, years ago, that Jandar the Earthling first materialized upon the surface of our planet. And to this place he has come three times ere now, over the years, to leave upon this mysterious disc of glistening stone the manuscripts wherein he had written down for the eyes of the men of his world an account of his adventures and discoveries upon Thanator.

I do not know if any eye but mine will ever peruse these pages. And Jandar, too, often wondered about this, as he placed in the center of the jade disc his manuscripts. Perhaps they dematerialize, to rise up the sparkling beam of unknown force, to traverse the immense gulf of nothingness that lies between the worlds, only to vanish forever from all knowledge, lost to wander forever between the countless stars. Or perhaps, as was Jandar’s oft-expressed hope, they retrace his journey back to his own native world, which he calls The Earth, to materialize unharmed at the bottom of the jade-lined well that lies amidst the ruined city in the jungles. And whether then they are somehow brought to the knowledge of the men of his world, or lie in the ruins to molder and decay unseen, unread―who can say?

Only you, who read these words, can know the truth … if you exist!

Why I perform this curious task I cannot really say.

No, that is inaccurate: I do know why!

I do it in memory of Jandar of Callisto―my prince, my pupil, and my friend.

He would have wished it so. All the long days he toiled at the completion of this latest manuscript would otherwise have been wasted in vain.

He would have wanted me to have set down, however crude and unskillful may be my gifts at the composition of narratives, some account of the circumstances which followed his disappearance from the bourne of human knowledge.

Aye, even as he stood on the brink of the Unknown, he would have bid me do what I have done!

Whatever his nameless fate―whatever the mysterious doom which has fallen upon the noblest hero of two worlds―he would have wished an account of these last and final adventures to be sent through the Gate Between the Worlds … perhaps to vanish in the far places of the Universe … perhaps to come at last to the amazement and attention of his own countrymen.

“A story is only as good as the ending of it,” he would say, with a reckless grin.

Whether or not I shall ever stand in this place again, to set within the Gate an account of my future adventures, I cannot say.

I am old, and my days are few.

And, alas, only I, Zastro of the Ku Thad, know the language of your world!

Whether the true ending of the story will ever be made known, is a question I cannot answer.

Perhaps it is best to end the tale in this manner. Like all heroes, Jandar of Callisto will someday fight his last battle … and venture through the Black Gates of Death to whatever undiscovered country lies beyond. Perhaps it is best that the story ends here, before that last battle is fought … if, indeed, it has not already been fought.

And so I wonder, in my philosophical way, if perhaps it is not best that we do not know, that we never know, the end of Jandar’s saga. Let us leave him as we saw him last, going forward into unknown perils, fearless and unafraid, his heart staunch and unshaken, stout and loyal friends at his side, and brave laughter on his lips.

It is not, after all, such a bad ending.

Will the story of my life end so gallantly?

Will yours?