Chapter IV

Artana met them, his face a thundercloud. He handed Ross a ray-typed message. "This came just before you landed," he said tensely.

Before Ross could read the message, the name signed to it caught his eye. Horta! The Lord of the Caverns was coming out of his silence! And with what a greeting! "Know, O Queen," read Horta's message, "that I have destroyed three of the Earth-ships, as I shall destroy all who fly against the destiny of the Moon Kingdom. Know, too, that I have destroyed a second Earth city, the place called Los Angeles, as a warning to the Earth people that their destiny is not ours."

Ross read it with a sinking heart. Los Angeles! A city of two million people, destroyed! Then it was Horta who had wiped out Nagasaki!

Moore pounced on that thought. "Nagasaki, then Los Angeles!" he muttered.

Ross turned to Artana. "Any other news?"

Artana shook his head. "No. But I have a plan. You know that when the rains come we store them in the great reservoirs, so that our under-world may not be flooded. Then why not loose the waters in the reservoirs, and flood the caverns?"

Ross stared in admiration. But he slowly shook his head. "You'd have to kill half your people, Artana, just to dispose of Horta."

"But," argued Artana desperately, "Horta will destroy half our people himself, to seize the Kingdom. And he will destroy the Earth folk, too!"

Moore spoke up. "The reservoirs are full?"

"No," admitted Artana. "The rains have not been heavy. The reservoirs are but half full." He sighed. "Horta might escape the flood."

"That's no good, then," Ross said emphatically. "Tell you what, Moore and I will go and scout the Cavern on foot. We may be able to get near enough to the ray works to smash 'em."

"You would die," Artana said somberly. "Horta guards his Cavern well."

Ross nodded. "Maybe. But there's no other chance. Horta can knock us down out of the air, and he's knocking Earth cities to dust. He must be stopped. If we die, you can hold out on the Peaks, and flood him out when the rains come."

"That's right, Artana," Moore agreed. "But let me go, Chief. I'll take a couple of good men. You stay here."

"No dice, Harry," Ross assured him firmly. "I'm the head man and it's my job. I'd like to have you along, though."

"Sure," said Moore mildly.

Artana regarded them with admiration. "You are brave men! But what can I do?"

"Just sit tight, Artana, and wait for the rain to fall," grinned Moore. "And when it comes, avenge us."

"That will I!" swore Artana.

* * * * *

They set out in the dark, Moore and Ross and the guide whom Artana had indicated with a gesture. They had covered only half a mile when Ross turned sharply, suspiciously, to the guide. "Sure you speak the Earth tongue?" he demanded. "If you do, why can't you say something?"

The guide threw back the cowl-like head covering and Ross caught his breath. "Illeria! What are you doing on this tour?"

"I go to die with you, my lord," said the princess simply.

"My lord!" squawked Moore. "Excuse me!" He walked forward hurriedly.

Ross, his face burning in the gloom, took Illeria's arm roughly. "This is no job for you, Princess! There will be danger!"

"Even death," agreed the slim princess equably. "No matter. And the Lord Artana is agreed that I go."

"Artana agreed?" Ross was taken aback. He looked ahead to where Moore waited, looked back over the way they had come, then shrugged. "Oh, well! Here we go!"

Happily Illeria caught his arm, and they strode forward. Moore chuckled in the dark. "Everything settled?"

"Yes, dammit," grated Ross. "Did you ever see such a mess?"

Moore's reply was sober. "We couldn't have a better guide," he pointed out. "And we know the princess is loyal. How could we be sure of some other guide? A jigger who might sell us out to the first Horta sentry?"

* * * * *

Ross grunted agreement, and they trudged on. They saw no one, heard no one, until the first of the craters lay behind, and the Moon terrain sloped down and down into the caverns. They came upon the first two sentries suddenly. Both swung their ray-guns up, but Moore was quicker. His gas-pistol spat twice, and the sentries crumpled.

"Are they dead?" asked the princess, amazed.

"Dead to the world--er, I should say, dead to the Moon," Ross assured her. "They'll stay that way twelve hours, which ought to be long enough for us."

Moore chuckled. "Before then we'll be on top of the world--I mean on top of the Moon--or dead heroes."

The way was easy, a steady down slope, for a while. Then the rock formations began. They slipped and crawled. The princess suffered a cut on her knee, but shrugged at the suggestion of a bandage. The second set of sentries were easily overpowered. They lolled at ease against a ridge, and Ross shot twice to gas them to sleep. Here the light was better, and Ross paused to look them over. They were darker than the Peak men, with less color, and their veins stood out against their blue-white skin. They bore the ray-rifle of all the Moon soldiers, and another curious weapon besides, a jagged-edged sword with a hooked point.

"It's the old Moon sword," said Illeria. "Horta worships the old customs, and swears by the beliefs of the astrologers. It's the astrologers who direct his actions, my mother had said."

"It's a dirty weapon," shuddered Moore. "I'll take a ray-gun any time."

He came within an ace of regretting his choice a moment later, when a whole squad of soldiers rounded an outcrop of rock. Ross whispered a warning, and shot fast. Moore went into action then, but not before one of the Horta men had fired. The ray blasted past them and sheared off a half-ton of rock behind them.

"Whew, that was close," gasped Moore as the last of the soldiers fell.

"How about ray-guns now?" gibed Ross. "Do you know, I think we're in luck. This party is evidently supposed to relieve the sentries we met--so there'll be no alarm over their condition."

"You're right!" exclaimed Moore. "Now all we have to do is to get to that ray machine!"

They stood within sight of it when the heavy hand of Horta fell.

* * * * *

In the shadows of the cavern they had crept from arsenal to foundry, until they had inspected from far or near every establishment in this dim and fearsome chasm. And finally they saw it, a great cylinder nestling deep in the ground and looming high in the cavern, supported by guy beams of gleaming metal.

"A ray-gun!" cried Moore. His incautious exclamation was their undoing. A half-clad foundry worker, looking like a gnome in his eye-shade helmet and drooping gauntlets, gaped at them. Ross shot a split second too late to stop the shout of alarm. The foundryman dropped, but a dozen soldiers came on the run. Moore and Ross fired and fired again, but they went down in a charge of scores of Horta soldiers. The flat of a sword struck Ross a stunning blow on the side of his head.

He came to his senses to find himself in a strange room, bound hand and foot and prone on a stone floor. Beside him was Moore.

"Where are we?" muttered Ross.

"In Horta's headquarters," whispered Moore. "Here's Horta."

Ross twisted his head. He blinked. For Horta was an eyeful.

The Lord of the Caverns was a giant. Fully seven feet tall, he must have weighed four hundred pounds. But he bore his great bulk with ease and a certain dignity. He strode over to the two prisoners, looked them over with curiosity but without visible rancor, and spoke sharply to a guard in the Moon tongue. The guard hastened to free the two flyers.

They exchanged glances of surprise. "You don't suppose he's a pal in disguise?" asked Moore blandly. He looked up with a start when he heard a rumbling chuckle.

Horta was amused. "No, Earth-man. You are prisoners. But I have no need to bind you, for you cannot escape. Yet you need not fear death, for if you will stay and serve me you shall have life and all the blessings that will be showered upon a new Kingdom."

"New Kingdom?" Moore blinked. "It's a Regency, isn't it?"

Horta's great laugh boomed out. "Nay! I am the King! And for my queen--well, you have delivered her to me!"

Ross sat up and stared. "You mean--Illeria?"

Horta chuckled as he nodded.

"Illeria!" Ross stifled a curse. His mind raced. The girl was a prisoner, too. He spoke aloud, easily. "Well, I guess we can give Your Royal Highness a hand."

"Hey, Bruce!" Moore expostulated. "You don't mean--"

"Why not?" drawled Ross. Turning to face Moore, he winked. "We know a lot that will pay our way with the new Kingdom."

Moore blinked. "Of course!" he assented hastily. "Sure!"

Horta stared suspiciously at the two flyers. "Make sure, then, that you have no secret longings to return to Earth," he warned heavily. "For henceforth there shall be no intercourse between Moon and Earth. The truce is ended."

Ross ventured a question. "What'll you do with the men of the Peaks?"

Horta smiled grimly. "They will submit, or die." He gestured imperiously, and the guards pushed the flyers forward as Horta strode from the room.

As they trailed behind, Moore whispered, "He doesn't look like a killer."

"Probably a fanatic," Ross muttered.

"What's the play?"

"Watch our chance, and wreck the ray machine."

"And us with it," grumbled Moore.

"Most likely," Ross agreed.

They entered a softly lit room, in the wake of Horta. As their eyes became accustomed to the dim light they gasped. There was Illeria. But beside her was the queen--Boada!

* * * * *

She swept them with a glance in which contempt was mingled with a kind of pity. "You did not expect to see me here," she said harshly. "But I serve the destiny of the Moon. The wise men have shown me that the Moon was never destined to serve the Earth, but must stand with the Blue Stars when the Universe is rent asunder. And now the Moon is ready to defend itself, thanks to the new King Horta!"

In the silence that followed Ross heard the girl gasp. The queen spoke softly. "And you, my daughter, shall be the new queen, wife of the almighty Horta the Liberator."

"Not," Ross muttered between his teeth, "if I can help it."

"Me, too," whispered Moore.

The girl said nothing. But her eyes sought Ross with piteous entreaty.

Horta broke the silence. "The nuptials shall be solemnized in tomorrow's full light. You, Earth-men, shall remain under guard until you have given earnest proof of your fealty."

The guards punched the two as Horta rapped an order in the Moon tongue, and they allowed themselves to be led away. Through a dim corridor they passed, and into a stone cell, with oddly fashioned stone bars and a door that slid on a metal base, locking them into their tomb.

Ross circled the cell, then shook his head. "We couldn't get out of this without a ray machine," he muttered.

Moore sat down against a wall. "Guess not. Say, Bruce, did you hear the old girl?"

"The Universe is to be rent asunder," grunted Ross. "Where does that leave us?"

"Behind the eight ball, as I believe they used to say back in the twentieth century," grinned Moore. "That is, that's where we would be if the Universe really were to be rent asunder."

"Oh!" grunted Ross in heavy sarcasm. "So it isn't going to happen?"

"Gosh, no," chuckled Moore. "It's the silliest kind of astrological fake, discredited two centuries ago. Where Horta picked it up I don't know. Probably he got some power from the blue stars by accident, and his faker astrologists strung him along on the big bust-up idea."

"Nice clean fun," muttered Ross. "Well, we missed. Horta's still got his ray machine. He's also got the princess--and the queen for an ally."

"He's also," amended Moore dryly, "got us."

"And how," grunted Ross. "How long do you suppose we'll last if we don't--"

He stopped abruptly. A faint noise came to his ears. "Hear that?" he asked, puzzled.

Moore cocked his head to one side. "Running water," he remarked. "They haven't got a river down--"

A scream, faint and far away, took his breath away. Another sounded, and then a chorus, dimmed by space and the stone walls. Suddenly Ross and Moore whirled to face one another.

"Artana!" cried Ross.

"He's opened the reservoirs!" gasped Moore.

They leaped to their feet. Ross tried the door, savagely. Moore broke the skin of his hands on the stout stone bars of the window. In a moment, water was swirling at their feet.

Moore stared down at it gloomily. "I was two days on a raft in the middle of the Atlantic," he sighed, "and I didn't drown."

The water rose to their knees.