The Ghosts of Epidoris by E. C. Tubb

Author:E. C. Tubb [Tubb, E. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science fiction
ISBN: 9780575107861
Publisher: DAW Books
Published: 2011-09-29T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

They stood like shadows in the vegetation, tall, thin men with peaked hair and down-slanted eyes, mouths pursed beneath flaring nostrils of snubbed noses. They carried narrow spears tipped with dull metal; long, heavy knives with waved and tapering blades hung from their belts. They wore dull garments blotched with green and brown, camouflage which rendered them invisible to a casual eye.

And, on the breast of each, rested the symbol of a double helix limned in yellow.

“Kaifeng’s men!” Saratov’s voice was a deep rumble which rolled in the strained silence. “Cap—”

“You will not move!” The voice was thin, harsh, determined, the words oddly accentuated. “You spoke of the master. Do you know him?”

“Yes,” said Kennedy. “Were you sent to escort us?”

The question aroused confusion. There was a blur of sound, odd noises in a peculiar guttural tongue, and then the harsh voice again.

“You will lift your hands. If you move you will die.”

They stepped forward as Kennedy and Saratov obeyed. Penza, thick arms lifted, said, “The natives, Cap. They must have heard the beast and come to investigate.”

“Or maybe they have been looking for us.” Kennedy glanced to either side as the natives approached. He caught a glimpse of others in the shadows; their squat, powerful-looking crossbows were lifted, dull metal quarrels aimed toward the two men. The one who had spoken halted ten feet from where they stood.

“If you come from the master you will have a sign. Show it to me.”

“We have no sign.”

“Then you have lied.” A hand lifted and spears were raised. “You will be taken to him. If you resist you will join those others in the dirt.” His eyes slid to the opened grave. “Now we shall tie you.”

“Cap, do we stand for it?” Saratov was ready to fight.

Kennedy glanced at the poised crossbows, guessing at other weapons the vegetation might conceal.

“We stand for it, Penza. They’re taking us where we want to go anyway.”

Bound, prodded by the butts of spears, they were marched through masses of vegetation, following an almost invisible path. Twice the column halted as something moved in the distance; the natives conferred among themselves in guttural whispering, then moved on with renewed urgency as the danger passed.

They reached a valley, a patch which seemed more swamp than solid ground, a slight rise and then an open space.

“Cap!” Saratov stared at the building it contained. “How the hell did these people ever manage to build that?”

The structure was vast. It was composed of thick columns positioned in an elaborate pattern, tapering as they rose, interweaving, complex. The roof was like a shallow bowl, a flattened dome on which elaborate patterns of metal rose to an encircling fringe. The area surrounding the building was bare, the edge of the vegetation sharply defined. Figures were busily working, plucking fragments of green from the naked soil. As they drew closer, Kennedy saw that the workers were women and girls, their skirts lifted and caught at the waist, tattoos marring their naked torsos.

The circular wall of the building was pierced with doorways, the jambs rising to pointed arches.

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