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Hurok of the Stone Ageby Lin CarterPart OneDRAGONMEN OF ZARChapter 1 THE DRAGON-RIDERSBeyond the Peaks of Peril there stretches from the shores of the great sea of Sogar-Jad a mighty plain.Under the eternal noon of Zanthodon observers might have perceived a strange and unusual partytraversing this grassy immensity.In the first place, the party consisted of a herd of dinosaurs. Now, on the surface world this would indeedhave been remarkable, as the last of the great saurians of the Dawn perished into extinction long beforethe first true men evolved from their marsupial ancestors. Here in the Underground World, of course, thesight of the monster reptiles was commonplace, for it is here in the vast cavern-world beneath the Saharathat survivors from forgotten ages have lingered on hundreds of millennia since the last of their kindvanished from the Upper World.While our hypothetical observers would not have found the giant lizards remarkable, in themselves,there was that about them that would have astonished.The first thing that was surprising was that the immense bronze-and-copper-colored dinosaurs worebridles, bits, and reins.The second thing was that men were riding on their backs.Now, the dinosaurs of Zanthodon come in two distinct varieties. One is the mighty predator, savage,ferocious, hungry-terrible fighter of unkillable vigor.The second variety are the more placid and amenable herbivores, slow-witted, ruminative, and no moreto be feared than we fear dairy cattle. Even these last, however, have never been broken to saddle-notbecause of their ferocity for they lack any, but simply because their intelligence is too rudimentary forthem to learn to obey commands. As well, they are virtually walking stomachs, and must eat constantlyin order to fuel their gigantic carcasses.I could not identify the species of dinosaur into which the harnessed monsters may best be classified-ifmy learned companion, Professor Percival P. Potter, Ph.D., ever named them for me, I am afraid that Ihave forgotten-but I can assure you that these stalking monstrosities were huge beyond belief.As for the men on their backs, there was nothing particularly remarkable about them, except that theyrepresented a species of humankind I had not yet encountered here in the Underground World. There arethe hulking and hairychested Neanderthal men (the "Drugars," as the folk of Zanthodon call them), andthe tall, lithe, blond and blue-eyed Cro-Magnons (or "panjani"), plus a surviving remnant of BarbaryPirates fled here when the fleets of Europe were scouring the Mediterranean to crush the corsairs andeliminate their depredations on shipping.But beyond these, the Dragonmen, as the folk of Zanthodon seemed to call them, were unique. Small,slim, oliveskinned, with silky black hair and flashing black eyes, dressed in high-laced sandals andabbreviated garments of fine linens dyed yellow or scarlet or blue, they obviously were the children of ahigher order of civilization than any I had yet encountered in this fantastic subterranean world-with thepossible exception of the pirates.They lived in a land called Zar, I had been given to understand, which lay inland from the coast, far tothe "east." I call the direction "east" because it is a convenient term; actually, here far below the worldwhere the steamy skies are perpetually illuminated by weird phosphorescence there is no way to tell onedirection from another. If you will think about this for a moment, you will realize that if you weremiraculously to be transported, say, to Mesopotamia, you could orient yourself (at least insofar as thecardinal directions went) as soon as the sun rose or setZanthodon has no sun, and its luminance never wavers or dims. Hence "east" is a handy term, nothingmore.Since first Professor Potter and I had descended in my helicopter into Zanthodon, we had made bothfriends and enemies. Our friends were the blond and stalwart fighting men of the Cro-Magnon nations ofSothar and Thandar. They are not only superb physical specimens, mighty warriors, fearless hunters, butalso fine human beings-brave, loyal, chivalrous, and honestTogether with a small party of these warriors, and my friend Hurok of Kor, one of the NeanderthaloidDrugars, we had entered upon .these plains in pursuit of the Barbary Pirates who had carried off mybeloved Princess, Darya of Thandar, when we were surprised by the Dragonmen and quickly captured.That is to say, the Professor and I had been captured. I had commanded my warriors to scatter anddisperse, and to conceal themselves, in order that the pursuit and rescue of Darya might continue eventhough I was no longer there to lead it.And so we rode, mounted on the back of a gigantic reptile that stalked across the plains, great clawedthree-toed feet plowing through the swishing meadow grasses, like a thing out of nightmare. Our wristshad been securely but not uncomfortably tied behind our backs, and we had been relieved of ourweapons. However, we were captives, and the free of heart find captivity rankling in the extreme.Thus I chafed, jaw set grimly, inwardly cursing my fate. As for my scrawny companion, he was afirewith scientific curiosity. This was about the closest he had yet come to one of the monster saurians, andhe was enjoying the experience-yes, even the musky, reptilian stench which was thick and rank in ournostrils, and the rasp of its pebbly hide against our bare thighs."Think of it, my boy!" he breathed ecstatically, eyes aglow with fervor behind his slightly askew pincenez,his sun helmet wobbling on his baldish head, his tattered and travelstained khakis mere rags by thistime, through which his bony fibs and skinny arms and legs protruded comically. "These marvelouspeople have actually domesticated the dinosaurs!""I am thinking of it, Doc," I grunted a bit sourly. "And I'm wondering if we've been brought along toserve as fodder when the critters get peckish.""Nonsense!" he snorted. "Reptiles of this size would regard the two of us as a mere morsel, not even asnack, and in no way to be considered luncheon.""That's a relief," I commented."And a marvelous people they are, or were," he amended, studying the slender limbs and naked backs ofour captor, who was seated directly in front of us. "The Minoan civilization of ancient Crete was one ofthe wonders of antiquity! When even the Greeks were still chasing reindeer and hitting each other in thehead with rocks, the Cretans had developed their civilization to astonishing heights. Their palaces hadflush toilets and hot and cold running water more than fifteen centuries before the Romans-and theircities possessed a sewage system which not even the Romans ever equaled!""Terrific," I snapped. "But what the hell are they doing down here?""Oh, Galloping Galileo, my boy, stop being so snippy!" he said. "Relax and enjoy the unique experiencewe are having, about which we can do nothing, anyway. As I-ker-hem! As I was saying . . . Oh, youasked a question? Yes, well, let me see . . . their island civilization was virtually destroyed at its heightovernight when the volcanic island of Thera blew its top in one of the most gigantic explosions this sideof Krakatoa. Knossus was shaken by the impact and partially burned; the tidal wave raised by theexplosion demolished the Cretan fleet and drowned the capital. The Minoans never recovered from thatdevastating cataclysm, and dwindled into legend. But it would seem that a remnant fled the island andfound their way here-but whether they had already left Crete before the explosion occurred, or after,remains a moot point.""Our friend Xask seems right at home," I commented sourly, nodding toward the enigmatic little manmounted on the next dinosaur. Although his wrists, like ours, were bound behind his back, the wily andcunning former Grand Vizier of Kor maintained an unruled demeanor. His aplomb was superb acting,for the Professor and I were well aware that the Empress of Zar had long ago exiled him, banishing himfrom the kingdom, never to return on pain of instant execution. And here he had been captured aswell . . . for, although Xask had not been one of my party of warriors, he had been stealthily followingus across the plains, for mysterious motives of his own.Catching my eye, Xask smiled a cool, thin-lipped smile. I scowled and he glanced away serenely.From time to time, the Dragonmen conversed among themselves, their leader, whose brows were boundby a filet of odd coppery-red silver metal, giving orders and directions. Whenever this occurred,Professor Potter listened closely."I can almost make out what they are saying," he murmured to me. "My theories on the nature ofMinoan as it was spoken are triumphantly vindicated! Very close to some of the archaic Greek dialectsof Ionia, yet with a large percentage of Mesopotamian loan-words with strong Semitic roots . . . ."I grunted; actually, I've knocked around that end of the Mediterranean long enough, mingling withGreeks, Turks, Armenians, Arabs, Copts, and the like, to have picked up more than a smattering of alltheir various lingoes-and, as I still retained quite a surprising amount of my college Greek, I could makeout some of what they were saying myself. But then, I've always had a knack for picking up languageseasily, which has saved my hide more than once.We had been riding due east across the plains for what seemed like two hours. I was hungry, thirsty,tired, and in a dangerous mood. Spoiling for a fight. All I wanted was to get my hands fr... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Hurok of the Stone Ageby Lin CarterPart OneDRAGONMEN OF ZARChapter 1 THE DRAGON-RIDERSBeyond the Peaks of Peril there stretches from the shores of the great sea of Sogar-Jad a mighty plain.Under the eternal noon of Zanthodon observers might have perceived a strange and unusual partytraversing this grassy immensity.In the first place, the party consisted of a herd of dinosaurs. Now, on the surface world this would indeedhave been remarkable, as the last of the great saurians of the Dawn perished into extinction long beforethe first true men evolved from their marsupial ancestors. Here in the Underground World, of course, thesight of the monster reptiles was commonplace, for it is here in the vast cavern-world beneath the Saharathat survivors from forgotten ages have lingered on hundreds of millennia since the last of their kindvanished from the Upper World.While our hypothetical observers would not have found the giant lizards remarkable, in themselves,there was that about them that would have astonished.The first thing that was surprising was that the immense bronze-and-copper-colored dinosaurs worebridles, bits, and reins.The second thing was that men were riding on their backs.Now, the dinosaurs of Zanthodon come in two distinct varieties. One is the mighty predator, savage,ferocious, hungry-terrible fighter of unkillable vigor.The second variety are the more placid and amenable herbivores, slow-witted, ruminative, and no moreto be feared than we fear dairy cattle. Even these last, however, have never been broken to saddle-notbecause of their ferocity for they lack any, but simply because their intelligence is too rudimentary forthem to learn to obey commands. As well, they are virtually walking stomachs, and must eat constantlyin order to fuel their gigantic carcasses.I could not identify the species of dinosaur into which the harnessed monsters may best be classified-ifmy learned companion, Professor Percival P. Potter, Ph.D., ever named them for me, I am afraid that Ihave forgotten-but I can assure you that these stalking monstrosities were huge beyond belief.As for the men on their backs, there was nothing particularly remarkable about them, except that theyrepresented a species of humankind I had not yet encountered here in the Underground World. There arethe hulking and hairychested Neanderthal men (the "Drugars," as the folk of Zanthodon call them), andthe tall, lithe, blond and blue-eyed Cro-Magnons (or "panjani"), plus a surviving remnant of BarbaryPirates fled here when the fleets of Europe were scouring the Mediterranean to crush the corsairs andeliminate their depredations on shipping.But beyond these, the Dragonmen, as the folk of Zanthodon seemed to call them, were unique. Small,slim, oliveskinned, with silky black hair and flashing black eyes, dressed in high-laced sandals andabbreviated garments of fine linens dyed yellow or scarlet or blue, they obviously were the children of ahigher order of civilization than any I had yet encountered in this fantastic subterranean world-with thepossible exception of the pirates.They lived in a land called Zar, I had been given to understand, which lay inland from the coast, far tothe "east." I call the direction "east" because it is a convenient term; actually, here far below the worldwhere the steamy skies are perpetually illuminated by weird phosphorescence there is no way to tell onedirection from another. If you will think about this for a moment, you will realize that if you weremiraculously to be transported, say, to Mesopotamia, you could orient yourself (at least insofar as thecardinal directions went) as soon as the sun rose or setZanthodon has no sun, and its luminance never wavers or dims. Hence "east" is a handy term, nothingmore.Since first Professor Potter and I had descended in my helicopter into Zanthodon, we had made bothfriends and enemies. Our friends were the blond and stalwart fighting men of the Cro-Magnon nations ofSothar and Thandar. They are not only superb physical specimens, mighty warriors, fearless hunters, butalso fine human beings-brave, loyal, chivalrous, and honestTogether with a small party of these warriors, and my friend Hurok of Kor, one of the NeanderthaloidDrugars, we had entered upon .these plains in pursuit of the Barbary Pirates who had carried off mybeloved Princess, Darya of Thandar, when we were surprised by the Dragonmen and quickly captured.That is to say, the Professor and I had been captured. I had commanded my warriors to scatter anddisperse, and to conceal themselves, in order that the pursuit and rescue of Darya might continue eventhough I was no longer there to lead it.And so we rode, mounted on the back of a gigantic reptile that stalked across the plains, great clawedthree-toed feet plowing through the swishing meadow grasses, like a thing out of nightmare. Our wristshad been securely but not uncomfortably tied behind our backs, and we had been relieved of ourweapons. However, we were captives, and the free of heart find captivity rankling in the extreme.Thus I chafed, jaw set grimly, inwardly cursing my fate. As for my scrawny companion, he was afirewith scientific curiosity. This was about the closest he had yet come to one of the monster saurians, andhe was enjoying the experience-yes, even the musky, reptilian stench which was thick and rank in ournostrils, and the rasp of its pebbly hide against our bare thighs."Think of it, my boy!" he breathed ecstatically, eyes aglow with fervor behind his slightly askew pincenez,his sun helmet wobbling on his baldish head, his tattered and travelstained khakis mere rags by thistime, through which his bony fibs and skinny arms and legs protruded comically. "These marvelouspeople have actually domesticated the dinosaurs!""I am thinking of it, Doc," I grunted a bit sourly. "And I'm wondering if we've been brought along toserve as fodder when the critters get peckish.""Nonsense!" he snorted. "Reptiles of this size would regard the two of us as a mere morsel, not even asnack, and in no way to be considered luncheon.""That's a relief," I commented."And a marvelous people they are, or were," he amended, studying the slender limbs and naked backs ofour captor, who was seated directly in front of us. "The Minoan civilization of ancient Crete was one ofthe wonders of antiquity! When even the Greeks were still chasing reindeer and hitting each other in thehead with rocks, the Cretans had developed their civilization to astonishing heights. Their palaces hadflush toilets and hot and cold running water more than fifteen centuries before the Romans-and theircities possessed a sewage system which not even the Romans ever equaled!""Terrific," I snapped. "But what the hell are they doing down here?""Oh, Galloping Galileo, my boy, stop being so snippy!" he said. "Relax and enjoy the unique experiencewe are having, about which we can do nothing, anyway. As I-ker-hem! As I was saying . . . Oh, youasked a question? Yes, well, let me see . . . their island civilization was virtually destroyed at its heightovernight when the volcanic island of Thera blew its top in one of the most gigantic explosions this sideof Krakatoa. Knossus was shaken by the impact and partially burned; the tidal wave raised by theexplosion demolished the Cretan fleet and drowned the capital. The Minoans never recovered from thatdevastating cataclysm, and dwindled into legend. But it would seem that a remnant fled the island andfound their way here-but whether they had already left Crete before the explosion occurred, or after,remains a moot point.""Our friend Xask seems right at home," I commented sourly, nodding toward the enigmatic little manmounted on the next dinosaur. Although his wrists, like ours, were bound behind his back, the wily andcunning former Grand Vizier of Kor maintained an unruled demeanor. His aplomb was superb acting,for the Professor and I were well aware that the Empress of Zar had long ago exiled him, banishing himfrom the kingdom, never to return on pain of instant execution. And here he had been captured aswell . . . for, although Xask had not been one of my party of warriors, he had been stealthily followingus across the plains, for mysterious motives of his own.Catching my eye, Xask smiled a cool, thin-lipped smile. I scowled and he glanced away serenely.From time to time, the Dragonmen conversed among themselves, their leader, whose brows were boundby a filet of odd coppery-red silver metal, giving orders and directions. Whenever this occurred,Professor Potter listened closely."I can almost make out what they are saying," he murmured to me. "My theories on the nature ofMinoan as it was spoken are triumphantly vindicated! Very close to some of the archaic Greek dialectsof Ionia, yet with a large percentage of Mesopotamian loan-words with strong Semitic roots . . . ."I grunted; actually, I've knocked around that end of the Mediterranean long enough, mingling withGreeks, Turks, Armenians, Arabs, Copts, and the like, to have picked up more than a smattering of alltheir various lingoes-and, as I still retained quite a surprising amount of my college Greek, I could makeout some of what they were saying myself. But then, I've always had a knack for picking up languageseasily, which has saved my hide more than once.We had been riding due east across the plains for what seemed like two hours. I was hungry, thirsty,tired, and in a dangerous mood. Spoiling for a fight. All I wanted was to get my hands fr... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]