Renegade of Callisto

20 Escape from Sargol

I was enormously relieved to recognize Koja among the kneeling chiefs and warriors of the Horde. Although I did not, at that time, have any knowledge of how recent events had carried him to this situation, it was obvious that he was in no danger from the Hordesmen. Indeed, from the way they knelt in homage before him, I realized, that he had somehow achieved a position of great prominence among his fellow Yathoon.

Satisfying myself that all was well with Koja and the others, I directed my pilot to remove the airship from the vicinity of the Valley, lest it be seen by the sentinels and the alarm be raised, causing consternation to the assembled Horde and, just possibly, putting my friends in danger once again.

We slept that night aboard our craft, floating above the snowfields. And, with dawn, as I had rather expected he would do, Koja came riding forth down the pass through the mountains, ostensibly to go hunting.

With him were Borak, whom I remembered from our former meeting, and little Taran, and Fido and Bozo, who were both mightily pleased to see me again, and my officer, Kadar. We conversed for two hours, there in the hills, the sentinels having been withdrawn by the express command of the new Arkon.

For the better part of a month, my squadron and I had combed the great prairie in all directions, gradually approaching the Black Mountains. When Valkar’s scoutcraft had not returned to the rendezvous point at the time previously arranged, we concentrated our attention upon that portion of the plains that had been assigned to him and Kadar.

Eventually we found the scoutcraft itself, drifting idly on the wind, empty and abandoned. The mooring cable had been severed, we noticed, and to my eye the cut most closely resembled that made by a whip-sword.

And that meant the Yathoon were somehow involved in this new disappearance.

First, Taran and Koja and Fido and Bozo had vanished into the southlands. And now those same southlands seemed to have swallowed up Valkar and his lieutenant.

As the Yathoon insectoids were the undisputed masters of the southern hemisphere, it did not take us long to guess the culprit. Thenceforward we directed our vigilance to the regions dominated by the Yathoon, known to infest the Black Mountains.

Towing the abandoned scoutcraft behind us, we directed the Shondakor above what turned out to be the Hidden Valley of Sargol―and just in time, it seems, for our appearance in the skies to distract the murderous attention of the victorious Kamchan for one precious instant.

It was with vast relief and satisfaction that we discovered our lost friends alive and relatively unharmed. Koja’s injuries proved superficial, while Valkar’s were more serious. But none of the others had suffered very much from their adventure, and even the two othodes were unscathed.

During our conversation, each of my friends related the story of his adventures to me―the which I have written down in this volume, more or less as they were narrated to me. I was saddened to learn that Prince Valkar, my wife’s cousin, was seriously injured, and I was also alarmed and distressed to learn that the Bright Empire was threatening the peace and security of Ganatol, one of our neighbors to the north.

There had never been aught but peaceful conditions between Shondakor and Ganatol, for we were too distant from one another for war to ever have been particularly desirable or even practical, had it ever been desired. An occasional merchant caravan, a bit of seasonal trade, sometimes a friendly exchange of greetings or embassies―little more.

But the opportunity to form a firm alliance with our neighbor to the north was exceptionally attractive, and I determined to pursue it upon my return.

Various difficulties presented themselves as obstacles to the freedom of my friends and of the new acquaintances they had made while in Yathoon captivity. For one thing, all except Koja and Borak were captives of the Zajjadar Clan, and were Koja to free them by mere command would be for him to insult and anger the powerful Clan, endangering his own position in the Horde. I suggested that Shondakor ransom them; since actual wealth is of no particular use or value to the Yathoon barbarians, an exchange of trinkets was arranged. The Yathoon hoard in their troves much the same sort of bright, glittery trash that may be found in a jackdaw’s nest. Beads and mirrors and glass jewelry and trinkets are to them as desirable as treasure. Koja promised to arrange the exchange as surreptitiously as he could, for to be seen actively participating in the freeing of human captives might be extremely detrimental to him in his new capacity as Arkon.

After the departure of my friends―the two othodes we of course kept with us, as they were of no value or interest, even to the Zajjadars―I flew the Shondakor back north into the grasslands to the place where Koja and Taran and Fido had left the Lankar-jan tethered to the upper branches of a tall stand of borath trees.

We found the little scoutcraft intact and still se. curely anchored to the treetops, apparently none the worse for wear. Towing it behind us, we returned to the Black Mountains to await Koja’s signal.

Later that day, Borak emerged from the pass through the mountains, with two trusted Yathoon warriors, to receive our store of gewgaws. My officers and I had stripped ourselves of every ornament and bright scrap of decoration we could find on our persons or among the fittings of the two ornithopters, including some valuable optical instruments and navigational devices which we presumed might be rare and curious oddities to the simple arthropods.

That evening Koja himself came down into the hills, escorting Taran and Kadar and others. Prince Valkar, sleeping easily under the influence of drugs administered by the fussy little Soraban physician, was borne on a litter. With him were Xara of Ganatol, whom I was pleased to meet, and that curious personage introduced to me as Zothon of Arzoma, the representative of a race I had never previously encountered during all my wanderings across the broad face of Thanator the Jungle Moon. These five former captives were now free, ransomed by the glittering trash we had scavenged; free, too, was Doctor Yetzl, who was still attending to Valkar.

Koja solemnly informed me that he would not be returning to Shondakor, at least not at once. First he must consolidate his position as Emperor of the Yathoon Horde. And it was also his avowed intention to introduce certain novel concepts into the ancient and immemorial traditions of the Yathoon race.

During his years with us in Shondakor, my friend Koja had learned the value of some of the softer sentiments normally unknown to his emotionless kind, and, even when known, regarded with revulsion and distrust as ennervating and effete.

The first thing he intended was an innovation in the nature of the Great Games themselves. Since the Yathoon race was gradually dying out―a secret which he confided to me in solemn confidence―it should not be difficult to persuade his princelings and chieftains to abandon the bloody games, hitherto fought to the death, in favor of contests of athletic excellence and martial skill. This innovation was rather like banning warfare in favor of something like the Olympic Games, but Koja felt confident that he could do it.

The Yathoon are coldly emotionless; reason and logic appeal to them where vehement passions cannot sway them. Simply to point out that irreplaceable lives are lost from a dwindling race when the Games are fought to the death should, he thought, suffice to convince his lords of the folly of the ancient practice. It’s only real purpose, after all, was to make certain that the healthiest and most superior specimens of male Yathoon adulthood were permitted to lie with the females and breed the next generation. Athletic contests should weed out the sickly or unfit as certainly as pitched battles, and without further decimating the strength of the Horde.

At this time Koja also introduced to me his mate, a slender and elegant female named Nourya. His prize for excellence in the Games, and for winning the throne by the defeat of Kamchan, was the right to breed with Nourya for a season.

Never having been introduced to a Yathoon female socially before―never having even seen one, come to think of it!―I was fascinated to meet this first member of Koja’s harem. As for Nourya, she seemed quite unexcited or nervous at meeting a human male, and greeted me calmly, as if it were an everyday occurrence for her to be introduced to a Prince of Shondakor.

The emotionlessness of the Yathoon is something I will never quite come to understand or feel comfortable with.

Among the other innovations that Koja planned to begin introducing to his subjects was that of parenthood. When the larva laid by his mate hatched, Koja intended raising the cadet in full acknowledgment of his paternity. This would doubtless be viewed with mixed emotions by his subjects, who were about the most hidebound band of strict conservatives imaginable, and it might even scandalize them. But Koja was of the opinion that, in so doing, he would not seriously jeopardize his claim to the throne or his authority among the Clans.

He was curious to learn if this novelty in childrearing would inculcate in the as-yet-unborn cadet something resembling the normal feelings of filial devotion common to human children. He rather suspected that it would.

I think he was also curious to find out if he himself could feel love for his own offspring. I rather suspect he will …

And, then, something would have to be done about the many slaves held captive by the various Clans. Having been a slave himself to the Garukhs, Koja naturally did not feel that he would stand idly by and watch the misery of the human captives held by the Horde―separated from their wives or families and far from the cities of their birth, hopeless possessions of a soulless and unfeeling and very alien race.

The freeing of the slaves, however, must be done gradually so as not to disrupt the traditions of the Yathoon with unnatural haste. But the paying of ransom for the lives of captives was not unknown to the arthropods, and Koja believed that he could gradually, in slow stages, encourage representatives of Shondakor and Tharkol and Soraba and the other cities of Callisto to attempt the ransom ‘of their own people.

I promised to discuss this with the rulers of the neighboring cities and to arrange for the exchange of prisoners.

Koja also hoped to introduce reading and writing to the Yathoon, and to discourage the duello, and to begin something like a code of laws to govern in the place of ancient traditions. But all of these things would require time and patience and tactful persuasion―if inaugurated too swiftly, or all at once, the Yathoon Hordesmen would doubtless balk and Koja himself might be unseated. But he firmly intended to initiate these more civilized measures when he felt that the time was right.

Now that Koja had related to me all of his recent adventures, I was curious to learn how he was conducting himself as Arkon of the Horde.

The very first thing he had done, Koja informed me, was to set his comrade Borak in place as the new high chief of the Haroob Clan. As Borak had formerly held that position, and was himself raised among the Haroobs from the time he was a mere cadet, this afforded no real problem. And, of course, Borak had slain Gorpak, the former high chief, in man-to-man battle, which made his elevation to the princely office in accordance with the oldest Yathoon traditions.

The only one who might have objected strenuously to his attaining the chiefship would have been the wily and treacherous Hooka. But since Hooka had been slain in the famous game of live Darza―and I was genuinely sorry not to have been a witness to that most amazing chess game ever played on Callisto, I assure you!―there was no one left to raise his voice against the chiefship of Borak.

In fact, the Haroobs were by this time heartily sick of Gorpak and his bullying ways and blunders in judgment, and thoroughly detested the scheming and sneaking ways of Hooka. And, since Borak had ruled them wisely and well during his former term of office, they welcomed him back warmly. Or as warmly as a Yathoon can, anyway.

And what about the venomous Fanga, former high chief of the now-eliminated Garukh clan, I wondered. Fanga, after all, had cast the vote of the chiefs against Koja shortly before my skycraft came into view. Was Koja wise to let a virulent and jealous enemy lurk unslain in the midst of his people, to whisper and conspire against him?

I was relieved to hear that Koja had already thought of the dangers the potential jealousy and rivalry of Fanga presented. And he had found an unusual but remarkably clever means of mollifying this last of his enemies.

He had given Fanga the Kandar Clan to rule.

“But―Fanga hates the Kandars!” I protested in bewilderment at this enigmatic and foolhardy step Koja had taken.

My friend nodded somberly.

“He hates the Kandars,” stated Koja solemnly, “because they chose another leader over him, the notorious Gamchan, whom I later slew. The one thing in the world that Fanga most desired was to become the high chief of the Kandars, in which Clan he was raised from cadethood, as was I.”

“You mean―?”

“I mean that, for one thing, the Kandars require a high chief. And Fanga is a high chief without a Clan. To put the two problems together was to solve both of them at one stroke. And Fanga has achieved the position he so heatedly desired. He also has the pleasure of knowing that his successful (and therefore hated) rival, Gamchan, is dead. Fanga will, I trust, lead the Kandars well.”

“But, Koja-inn,” young Taran demanded urgently, “I thought that you were the high chief of the Kandars!”

“I was, little Taran,” Koja assured him. “But in accepting the throne of the Arkon of the Horde, I gave up the chiefship of the Kandars. According to Horde traditions, the Arkon must foreswear all Clan allegiances. The Arkon of the Horde must forever be a warrior without a Clan, you see; only then can he rule the entire Horde with justice, and be equally fair and equally strict to all of the Clans which compose the Horde. For he must rule impartially, and without favoritism.”

Kadar cleared his throat. “I suspect,” the lieutenant said, with a wry grin, “that this is more often a goal to be striven for than a rule universally observed.”

“Quite so, I fear,” Koja agreed. “Perhaps I should have said, a good Arkon rules without partiality. And I intend to be a good Arkon.”

“And how did Fanga accept this honor?” I inquired.

“With slack-jawed amazement, at first,” Koja answered, “for he doubtless expected me to exact a cruel revenge upon him for the malicious vote he cast against me. Then with something resembling a dawning joy. I firmly believe that, in time, he will feel true and honest gratitude toward his Arkon and will become one of my most staunch and loyal supporters, for this would be according to cold reason and logic, and these move the Yathoon heart even more powerfully than do jealousy or hatred, which, after all, partake of the emotional side of an intelligent being’s personality.

“And even if I fail in introducing paternal affection and literacy among the Yathoon, and fail in curtailing their bloodthirstiness,” he added after a moment of reflection, “it will stand to my credit that, at least, I taught one of them the meaning of gratitude.”

“Two of them,” Borak corrected him solemnly.

Very shortly thereafter we took our departure. The former captives climbed aboard the Shondakor and the little scoutcraft, the Lankar-jan, and we took to the air after taking our farewells of Koja and his mate, and of Borak, high chief of the Haroob Clan.

These farewells were brief and cursory, partly because saying good-bye has always distressed me, and partly because they were only temporary farewells anyway. For someday soon, I knew, Koja would ride up before the gates of Shondakor the Golden amidst a mighty retinue of his nobles and warriors, for a visit of state.

We had already discussed a treaty of eternal peace between the Clans of the Yathoon Horde and the Three Cities; if the Yathoon warriors would restrain themselves from raiding the farms and merchant caravans and outlying provinces of Shondakor and Tharkol and Soraba, our fleets and legions would cease attacking them on sight. And we would open avenues of peaceful trade, giving them foodstuffs and weapons and tools and gewgaws in return for the valuable minerals wherewith the Black Mountains were laden.

This concordat, perhaps Utopian, was certainly for the future. But more to be anticipated in the near future was the arrival of Koja and his mate to Shondakor, to introduce to us their firstborn. This he had promised me, and so had Nourya.

And that happy day would perhaps not be too far off, for already―they informed me modestly―Nourya was carrying the eggs she would soon lay. And the gestation period of the Yathoon female is brief, while the larval stage is not much longer.

I wondered if it would be deemed advisable by Koja and his mate to permit Darloona and me the privilege of raising and educating their offspring, at least in part? Koja himself had learned the value and richness of civilization and its arts and gentler ways by living among us: how better to humanize the next generation of the Yathoon and to inculcate the principles of love and friendship and chivalry in their cold hearts than by raising them among humankind?

As for these things, well, we would have to wait and see. The future and its dreams and plans are what make life exciting, and also worth living.

With these thoughts in mind, we flew home under the golden skies.

THE END