The Venus Trilogy - Complete Sci-Fi Series: The Planet of Peril, The Prince of Peril & The Port of Peril. Otis Adelbert Kline
A flash of lightning revealed the fact that he was not following a body of men, but a huge reptile, a gigantic amphibian with a monstrous lizard-like body to which was attached a serpentine head and neck of immense proportions. It was pursuing someone else with an agility little short of marvelous for so ponderous a body, and had almost come up with its quarry.
The victim, who appeared little more than a slender boy, was making frantic efforts to escape, but it appeared that his doom was inevitable.
Another lightning flash showed the reptile with neck arched and jaws distended, ready to strike. A cry of mortal terror came to him from the darkness. Grandon unsheathed his sword.
Chapter 7
It was only because there came a swift lull in the storm that Grandon was able to follow the monster to its subterranean cave. The big reptile crouched with its back toward him as he came upon it, its body half out of the water.
On the floor lay its victim, but the creature seemed for be in no hurry. It was nosing its prey, in the manner of a cat playing with a mouse. Presently, the victim sat up, rubbing his eyes.
Grandon raised the muzzle of his tork above the water, aimed for the swaying head, and touched the button. At the sound and impact, the creature turned—and Grandon was dealt a blow from behind that hurled him into the far corner of the cave.
The tork bullets were useless; he drew his sword as he dodged about in the cave to elude snapping jaws and that scaly tail which had floored him before. It seemed hopeless; his point glanced off the creature’s scales as from armor plate.
Cornered, those jaws open to seize him, he lunged out wildly. The weapon was jerked from his hand, but no teeth closed upon him. Then he saw that he had driven big blade through the reptile’s eye and deep into its brain. After a few shudders, it keeled over.
Bracing his foot against the massive head, he wrenched his sword free, and turned to face the youth who was approaching him. “Come,” he said, “we must get out of here quickly.” Another creature might appear, and Grandon didn’t want to trust to luck again.
A dim light emanated from a point farther back. There was a small hole in the top of the bank, and Grandon widened it with his sword, enough to let them through.
Outside, the Earthman had a chance really to observe his companion, who was clad from head to foot in shining scarlet leather. The head and face were covered by a pointed hood of the same material; on impulse, Grandon reached forward and pulled back the concealing headpiece. That was when he gasped in wonder.
For a moment, the golden-haired girl thus revealed met his astonished gaze; then she regained her poise, with a look of regal hauteur. “Why did you do that?” she asked icily.
“Frankly, I do not know. If I have offended, I crave your pardon.”
Some of the coldness departed, but she did not smile. “When let us be on our way,” she said, adjusting the hood.
He turned and, together, they walked back among the lengthening shadows toward the river’s edge. Owing to the recent cloudburst the current was abnormally swift, carrying the floating storm debris past them at express-train speed. There were great, uprooted trees, detached branches and leaves of various sizes and kinds, and a number of huge toadstools.
As they stood there on the brink the cap of a great orange-colored toadstool was caught in an eddy and whirled against the shore. The stem had been broken off completely, and it formed a water-tight basin about twelve feet in diameter. Grandon leaped forward and hauled it in.
“What are you going to do with that?” asked the girl.
“If I can cut a suitable paddle,” replied Grandon, “I believe I can make it serve as a boat to convey us across the river, where I have reason to suspect your friends, as well as mine, are located.”
He looked about until he found a strong branch that suited his purpose, then made a most serviceable paddle by using the limb for the handle and the base of the broad leaf for the blade.
“Come,” said Grandon. “We must start quickly if we would gain the other shore before dark.”
She stepped aboard, and Grandon pushed off, wading out to where the water was breast-deep before climbing up beside her in order to clear the eddy which might again carry the craft shoreward.
The Earthman had taken many canoe trips, but he had not considered the difference in shape between a canoe and the inverted cap of a Zarovian toadstool. Instead of making the headway he anticipated, he found himself merely going around in a circle.
It was some time before he found a way simultaneously to guide and propel his awkward craft, which he accomplished by standing on the side toward which he wished to go and scooping the water toward him. They laboriously reached midstream after about an hour’s hard paddling, but in the interim the swift current had carried them many miles from their starting point. Then, to Grandon’s consternation, the paddle broke.
“I guess we’re in for it now,” he said dejectedly. “Fool that I was to risk your life in this overgrown bowl.”
“What of your own life?” she replied. “You are running no less risk than L”
As she spoke darkness descended, the black, moonless darkness of Venus. Grandon sat in moody silence, straining his eyes in his effort to penetrate the surrounding gloom, his ears on the alert for any sound which might indicate the presence of the dangerous reptilian creatures that inhabited the waters.
Presently a soft hand sought his, and clung there.
“What is it?” he asked hoarsely, endeavoring to still the quiver of emotion that suddenly took possession of his vocal cords.
I am tired—oh, so tired. And yes, frightened. To think that I should be frightened!”
“Here,” he said, stripping off his cloak and rolling it into a pillow. “I have been inexcusably thoughtless. Now lie with your head on this pillow, so, and try to get some sleep. I will keep watch.”
He withdrew a little way and once more sat quietly with senses alert for the slightest sound or sign of hostile attack. It was some time before her regular breathing, scarcely audible above the sound of the rushing waters, told him that she slept.
Toward morning the noises made by the amphibians ceased, and Grandon grew drowsy. His head nodded forward on his breast. Suddenly their craft gave a terrific lurch that rolled the girl into his lap. It was only his clutching the gills of the toadstool with both hands that kept them from being pitched into the water.
“What was that?” asked the girl, breathlessly, awake in an instant.
Another lurch followed.
“Hold on and I will try to find out,” he said.
Drawing his sword, he crept near the edge while the lurching continued. He clung to the rim with one hand and prodded the water about him with his sword, completely circling the craft without encountering anything other than the rushing waters. It was not until a dash of spray struck him in the face and he tasted salt that he realized the truth. They were on a body of salt water, possibly a large lake or an ocean. He made his way back to where the girl clung, and related his discovery.
“The river on which we were floating,” she explained, “empties into the great Azpok Ocean, the ocean of mysteries, of man-eating monsters and of terrible storms that destroy the mightiest of ships as easily as the smallest boats. To navigate the ocean is to court death in many sudden and appalling forms.”
An hour passed before morning dawned. In the meantime the roughness of the sea had abated a little, making it less difficult to keep their places. They were riding long, rolling swells that elevated and lowered their craft with very little lurching. There was no land in sight.
All through