John Norman - Explorers of Gor

“The drums,” I said, “may not have us as their object.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Ayari.

“We heard them, first,” I said, “far upriver of us. The message, whatever it is, was then relayed downstream.”

“What then could be the message?” asked Ayari.

“I fear,” said Turgus, “that it signifies the destruction of Shaba.”

“What think you, Kisu?” I asked.

“I think you are right about ourselves not being the object of the drums’ call,” said Kisu, “and for the reason which you gave. But I think, too, that if the destruction of Shaba was the content of the message that we might well have heard drums yesterday and the day before, when perhaps the second galley was destroyed. Why would the drums sound just now?”

“Then Shaba may live,” I said.

“Who knows?” asked Kisu.

“What then is the meaning of the drums?” pressed Ayari.

“I think that I may know,” I said.

“I suspect that I, too, know,” said Kisu, grimly.

“Listen,” said Ayari. We ceased paddling.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes,” said Kisu.

We then heard, drifting over the waters, from upstream. singing.

“Quickly,” I mid, “take the canoe to the left, take shelter upon that river island!”

We took the canoe quickly to a narrow river island, almost a wooded bar, on either side of which, placidly, flowed the Ua.

Scarcely had we beached the canoe and dragged it into the brush than the first of the many canoes rounded the southern edge of the island.

“Incredible,” whispered Ayari.

“Get down, Slaves,” I said to the blond girl and the dark-haired girl, who were tied by their ankles in the canoe. They lay then on their stomachs in the canoe, not daring to raise their heads. The rest of us lay in the grass and brush and watched.

“How many can there be?” asked Ayari.

“Countless numbers,” I said.

“It is as I had hoped,” said Kisu.

Hundreds of canoes were now passing the small island. They were, many of them, long war canoes, containing as many as fifteen or twenty men. They paddled in rhythm and sang. They were bright with feathers. Their bodies, in white and yellow paint, were covered with rude designs.

“I was told of this by the leader of the small people,” I said. “It is the massing of the peoples of the river for war.”

Still the canoes streamed past us. We could hear the drums In the background, behind the singing, throbbing and Pounding out their message.

Finally, after a half of an Ahn, the last of the canoes had disappeared down the river.

Kisu and I stood up. Tende, too, stood up.

“Well, Kisu,” said I, “it seems you have lured Bila Huruma to his destruction. He will be outnumbered by at least ten to one. He cannot survive. Your plan, it seems, has been fulfilled. In your battle with the Ubar it is you, Kisu, who seems to have won.”

Kisu looked down the river. Then he put his arm about the shoulders of Tende. “Tonight, Tende,” he said, “I will not tie you.”

“It is so vast,” said Ayari.

“it is larger than Ushindi or Ngao,” said Turgus.

We guided our canoe over the shining, placid waters of a broad lake.

“It is, I am confident,” I said, “the source of the Ua.”

“Into it must flow a thousand streams,” said Kisu.

Two weeks ago we had come to another high falls, even higher than that from which we had, long ago, caught sight of the following forces of Bila Huruma, pasangs behind in the distance. We must be thousands of feet Gorean, given the length of the river, the numerous plunging cataracts, and the plateaus and levels we had ascended, above sea level, above the entrance points, west of Ngao and Ushindi, of the brown Kamba and Nyoka into the green waters of Thassa. From the falls at the edge of this unnamed lake we had been able to see far behind us. The river had been clear.

Here and there, emerging from the lake, were great stone figures, the torsos and heads of men, shields upon their arms, spears grasped in their hands. These great figures were weathered, and covered with the patinas of age, greenish and red. Lichens and mosses grew in patches on the stone; vines clambered about them. Birds perched on the heads and shoulders of the great figures. On ridgework near the water turtles and tharlarion sunned themselves.

“How ancient are these things?” asked Janice.

“I do not know,” I said.

I looked at the huge figures. They towered thirty and forty feet out of the water. Our canoe seemed small, moving among them. I studied the faces.

“These men were of your race, or of some race akin to yours, Kisu,” I said.

“Perhaps,” said Kisu. “There are many black peoples.”

“Where have the builders of these things gone?” asked Ayari.

“I do not know,” I said.

“Let us continue on,” said Kisu, thrusting with his paddle against the calm water.

“How beautiful it is,” said Janice.

‘There, at the landing, moored,” said Ayari, “is a river galley.”

“It is the third galley,” said Turgus, “the last galley of Shaba.”

C Before us, more than four hundred yards in width, was a broad expanse of stone, at the eastern edge of the huge lake. It was a landing, a hundred yards deep. On it were huge pillars, with iron rings, where vessels might be moored. At the back of the landing, leading upward were flights and levels of steps, extending the full length of the four hundred yards of the landing. At the height, on that level, set far back, was a great, ruined building, with stairs and white columns. Behind it, extending backward, was a ruined city, with crumbling walls. We could not, from where we were, conjecture its extent. A tharlarion splashed from the landing into the water. The landing was covered with vines.

At places, and flanking the huge building at the top of the flights of stairs, were more of the huge figures of warriors, with shields and spears.

“Shaba must be here,” said Turgus.

“He was first to the source of the Ua,” said Kisu.

I unwrapped a panga from near my place in the canoe. I freed a spear, one that we had taken from the raiders so long ago.

“Take the canoe in,” I said. “Moor it near the galley.”

“Your long quest, Tarl, my friend,” said Kisu, “has now come to an end.”

I stepped out onto the landing. I slung the panga at my waist. I carried the spear.

“Why do you seek Shaba?” asked Turgus. “Your eyes have in them the look of one who embarks upon the business of the warrior.”

“Do not concern yourself,” I told him.

“Do you mean harm to Shaba?” he asked.

“It will be necessary. I presume,” I said, “to kill him.”

“I cannot permit that,” said Turgus. “I was in service to Shaba.”

“You are in service now,” I said, “to Kisu and myself.”

“Shaba treated me well,” said he. “He gave me, and others, full liberty to take our leave of him when we did.”

“Have you, a brigand, honor?” I asked.

“Call it what you will,” said he, angrily.

Kisu struck Turgus between the shoulder blades with the butt of one of the spears.

We dragged Turgus, half stunned, to the landing. There Kisu threw him on his belly and tied his hands behind his back. He then gagged him. He then put a rope on his throat.

I regarded the slave girls. “Onto the landing, and onto your bellies,” I said.

Alice and Janice, and the blond girl who had been the leader of the talunas, and her second in command, the slender-legged, dark-haired girl, and Tende, all, left the canoe and lay on their bellies on the landing. One by one we tied their hands behind their backs, and then, with a long strap, put them in throat coffle. I gagged the dark-haired girl, for she was the slave of Turgus. She looked at me in misery. I smiled. She would be given absolutely no opportunity whatsoever to attempt to give an alarm to Shaba, should we come upon him, thinking such an action on her part might please her master. I think this was wise on my part. I had seen her squirming with joy in the arms of Turgus. She had been well conquered and certainly might now strive to serve him in just such a harrowing detail, even though it might be at the risk of her own life. The. gag, preventing her from acting in such a contingency, could well save her life. It would not be necessary, then, for Kisu or me to cut her throat.