The planet of peril
"None recognized her, and I was careful not to betray her identity
until I had learned your majesty's intentions."
"You have done well, Zueppa, and if she proves to be Vernia of Reabon
you shall be richly rewarded. She must not, however, be brought here
to the capital. The risk would be too great. Take her, instead, to my
castle in my own kingdom, where every man is loyal to me, and where
escape will be impossible. Matters of state delay me here, but I will
be able to visit my castle in a few days. Meanwhile, I leave my fair
cousin, if it indeed be her, in your charge. Take one of my swiftest
motor vehicles and change the guard at the international bridge before
her arrival, posting only men from my own kingdom."
That evening, while Zueppa sipped his wine in the guard house at the
international bridge, a small party of huntsmen arrived and presented
their passports. With them were two prisoners, a beautiful girl clad in
brown armor, and a huge, hairy marsh-man, whose sole article of attire
was a loin cloth.
The young captain, after examining the passports of the huntsmen,
looked at the prisoners.
"And who are these?" he asked.
Vernia threw back her visor.
"The soldiers of Reabon do not question her rulers," she said.
The captain stared in open-mouthed amazement, then turned to a soldier
who came up behind him.
"A striking resemblance to our princess," he muttered.
"She is an impostor," said the soldier. "Were we not warned of her
coming?"
Vernia glanced imperiously at the two men before her.
"Have you forgotten the homage due your princess?" she asked. "Procure
me a fast motor vehicle at once and have done with your insolence if
you would see the light of another day."
Both men quickly bowed, with right hand extended, palm downward. Then a
figure darted swiftly up behind them and kicked the bowing captain over
on his face. In a flush Vernia recognized the traitor, Zueppa.
"How now, idiots?" he shouted. "You were warned by our worthy
sovereign, Destho, yet you make obeisance before this impostor. Seize
and bind her as you were ordered."
With a growl of fury, the hairy marsh-man leaped for the wily
commander, but a score of soldiers rushed in and soon had him bound and
helpless.
"Where did you get this brute, huntsmen?" asked Zueppa, looking at the
still struggling marsh-man.
"We captured him in the woods as he tried to steal our prisoner from
us," replied the captain of the huntsmen.
"Bring him to the castle of Prince Destho," he commanded. Then he
lifted Vernia into his swift motor vehicle and sped away.
Some hours later the vehicle drew up before a massive gate. Zueppa
answered the challenge of the guard and the lifting motors hummed
sonorously. Vernia, half fainting, was taken from the vehicle and
carried through a low arched doorway and along a dimly lighted corridor
to a sparsely furnished suite of rooms where she was given over to the
none too tender care of a tall, gaunt female slave.
The slave carefully locked the steel door and put the key in her belt
pouch. For the first time in history, a ruler of Reabon was a prisoner
within the borders of the empire.
* * * * *
Vernia spent five days and nights of lonely terror behind the steel
door of her prison. The tall, gaunt female slave was her sole
attendant, bringing her meals and caring for her physical wants. Her
armor and hunting suit were taken from her on the first night and
replaced with the scarlet apparel of a royal princess.
She tried, day and night, to think of some plan of escape, but none
presented itself. Her case seemed utterly hopeless, there in the castle
of the degenerate Prince Destho, surrounded by slaves and menials to
whom his word was absolute law.
On the evening of the sixth day she lay, face downward, on her couch
when footsteps sounded in the corridor. It was the hour when she was
accustomed to receive her tray of food from the slave woman, and she
did not move as the key turned in the lock and the door swung open.
The unexpected sound of a masculine voice at her side sent a thrill of
fear through her and she sat up hastily to face the author of all her
troubles--Prince Destho.
"Greetings, fair cousin," he said with a smirk, placing the tray before
her and hastily locking the door.
Destho was handsome in a flashy sort of way. He had matured
considerably in the year that intervened since Vernia's departure. His
square-cut beard had filled out, partly hiding the sensuous mouth, his
jet black eyes had lost some of their shiftiness which was, at that
moment, supplanted by a glitter of triumph and unconcealed admiration,
and he had grown tall and broad of shoulder.
As he stood there in the gold and scarlet raiment of a rogi of Reabon,
Vernia marveled at the change in his appearance and bearing. She had
left a weak, callow boy and had returned to face a crafty, unscrupulous
man.
Yet for all his dark beauty, his presence sent a feeling of revulsion
through her--a feeling that might have been caused by some creeping,
crawling thing of the slimy river caverns, for she saw, behind the
polished exterior, the hideous, warped monstrosity which was his soul.
She drew back haughtily, paling under his ardent gaze.
"Your insolence is in keeping with your traitorous conduct, Prince
Destho," she said, mustering a show of dignity to cloak her feeling of
apprehension.
Destho's glittering gaze wavered, but for a moment.
"A thousand pardons if I have offended you, fair cousin," he replied,
"put I could not properly make obeisance in your presence, since our
positions are reversed. Last year you ruled supreme in Reabon. To-day I
rule. From now, henceforth, I shall expect from you the deference due
your sovereign."
"Expectation is far from realization."
The brow of Destho darkened.
"We shall see," he answered. "There are ways of breaking a proud spirit
which may not have occurred to you.
"Pray do not force me to mention them. I have come to you with the most
benevolent intention, to offer you a pleasant and honorable way out of
your difficulty. I could have compassed your death, long since, had
I been so minded. I had, however, an ambition greater even than the
attainment of the throne of Reabon. That was, to wed the most beautiful
woman in all Zarovia. In ten days I will be Emperor of Reabon, while
you will be an expatriate--an outcast, and, in accordance with the laws
of Reabon, subject to seizure as a slave by the first free citizen who
discovers you. You cannot deny these facts, for they are the immutable,
unchanging laws of the empire to which even its mightiest sovereigns
must bow."
"And this pleasant and honorable way out of the difficulty?" inquired
Vernia. "What is it?"
"A marriage to your future emperor before the ten days are up. I will
make you my empress, and together we will rule the mightiest empire in
all Zarovia."
* * * * *
"So you would return the half of my birthright in exchange for my hand
in marriage. It is a most magnanimous offer," she said scornfully.
"It is far from being the worst I could make you. Where, on all
Zarovia, could you find a man better suited to be your mate? My royal
blood is on a par with yours. My bravery has been proved by the very
coup that has placed you in my power. As for my looks, I assure you
there are a thousand beautiful damsels who do not think me unhandsome
and would jump at the offer I am making you."
"Your royal blood is an accident of birth, and your bravery is that
of a man who seeks combat with those weaker than himself. As for your
manly beauty, it attracts me as the bright orange and black of the
hahoe attract the wounded creature that is about to be devoured. I
spurn your offer, traitor Destho. Pray, leave me now. Spare me the
further insult of your insufferable presence."
She turned away from his glowing eyes with a shudder.
The face of Destho flushed with rage. At one bound he cleared the space
between them and seized her roughly by the shoulders, forcing her back
on the scarlet couch with all the brutal strength at his command.
Panting and struggling in her efforts at release, she looked up in
wide-eyed horror as the leering, bearded face drew close to hers.
"Take heed," he hissed between clenched teeth, "lest the insult of my
presence become a reality. I could--"
His words were cut short by the thunder of a heavy fist on the steel
door. Furiously, he released the half fainting girl and answered the
summons, opening the door but a little way.
"Now, now, Zueppa?" he demanded angrily. "What is the meaning of this
intrusion? Did I not give you explicit orders not to disturb me for
other than the most urgent business?"
"It is because of your highness's command that I have come," responded
Zueppa calmly. "A messenger has just arrived with startling news of a
revolt in the kingdom of Uxpo. He awaits your presence in the audience
chamber."
"Another revolt in Uxpo? By the bones of Thorth! Will that kingdom
never cease to trouble us?"
He turned to Vernia.
"I regret that I must leave you thus hastily, fair cousin, but I will
return presently to continue our interesting discussion."
He bowed sardonically from the doorway, then closed and locked the door
after him. Vernia heard the retreating footsteps of the two men grow
fainter in the corridor, finally dying away in the distance. She sank
back on the couch, chilled with horror at thought of what might have
occurred had it not been for the timely intervention of Zueppa.
She had heard the conversation of the two men, but, at first, placed
no significance on the fact that there had been another revolution in
Uxpo. Gradually, however, it came to her that there could be but one
man with the ability to lead the Uxponians to a successful revolt--the
man whose army she defeated but failed to capture nearly a year
before--the man who now thought her dead and would therefore naturally
return to the succor of the people whose cause he had espoused. With a
woman's intuition she sensed the fact that Grandon of Terra was in Uxpo.
Some time later the gaunt slave woman came in to remove the dishes
containing her untouched meal. Though she had always been sullenly
taciturn in the past, Vernia resolved to question her.
"Have you heard aught of a revolt in Uxpo, Marsa?" she asked.
The sour features of the woman brightened perceptibly.
"It is the talk of the castle," she replied. "The capital has fallen
into the hands of the Fighting Traveks and every Reabonian soldier has
been killed, captured or driven from the kingdom."
"You seem elated at the news," said Vernia, noting the unusually
cheerful demeanor of her custodian.
"And well I may be," she answered, "for I am of Uxpo, I was captured
and brought here a slave by the armies of your father, Emperor Margo.
These are the most glorious tidings I have heard in years."
* * * * *
"No doubt the revolt was led by Bordeen, commander of the Fighting
Traveks," said Vernia in as casual a manner as she could assume.
"By Bordeen, say you? Hardly, though no doubt he took part in it.
Prince Thaddor, who now calls himself Grandon of Terra, reappeared as
suddenly and mysteriously as he disappeared nearly a year ago. It is
said that he wears a suit of brown armor that will turn even a mattork
projectile and carries weapons of the same strange metal, which cuts
steel as easily as a scarbo's blade cuts wood. Report has it, also,
that he brought with him a bodyguard of twenty men from a far country,
similarly garbed and armed. And I understand that yesterday he was
formally crowned King of Uxpo."
Vernia's heart leaped to her throat at the mention of Grandon's name,