Sleep came slowly that night to most of them. Within every heart was strong desire for the morrow to come--the new day for which all had waited. There were some here who would never see a second sunrise; but, as is usual under such conditions, each man looked for death to single out any one other than himself.

Less than a day's journey to the north of Sephar's walls a party of fifty warriors supped on the freshly-killed meat of Neela, the zebra, shortly before Dyta slid below the western earth-line. All that day they had traveled slowly along a thread-like game trail leading directly south. At times, for hours on end, they had walked through sombre depths of brooding jungle, beneath grotesque shadows of forest kings. Again, their way was across wide reaches of gently undulating prairie, where thick yellow gra.s.ses, deep to a tall man's thighs, stirred beneath the touch of baking winds.

Always, however, they had moved into the south, and ever in the lead was he whose decision, based solely on a vague premonition, had brought them so far from home. On this man's left forearm was the painted insignia of a chief....

With the sudden coming of night, the entire party took to the safety of high branches on either side of the trail. When Dyta returned on the morrow, they once more would take up their march into the mountains to the south ... always to the south.

Once more, dawn poked gray fingers through the overhead grill-work of the great cell beneath Sephar's amphitheater. And from the same point came sounds of Sephar's thousands, filing again into their seats for another day of grisly entertainment.

Tharn rolled over, sat up and ran tanned fingers through his heavy shock of black hair. For a moment his eyes ran over the sleeping scores, picking out many whom he had learned to respect. There was Katon, head pillowed on the biceps of a strong right arm, a half smile discernible on his firm mouth; he was sleeping soundly. Near him lay Brutan, the red edges of his wound showing through black stubble covering his cheek.

There was Rotark, his long face even more solemn in sleep; and next to him, Gorlat, blond hair unruffled, his tunic, still nearly immaculate, neatly folded and placed close beside him.

Tharn got to his feet and set about awakening the sleepers. Before Wotar arrived, he meant to speak once more to the prisoners; to go over for the last time, those few vital points which all must know perfectly if his plans were to be carried to a successful conclusion.

When all were a.s.sembled, he spoke briefly, asking questions again and again that none might fail to understand what was expected of him. The men listened intently, hanging on his every word and drinking deep of the inexhaustible fund of courage and surety possessed by the gray-eyed young man.

When he had finished he knew they were with him heart and soul, that every man present would charge, without hesitation, a hundred spear points if the need arose. If Vulcar could manage as well with the group across the hall, then Sephar could have a new ruler before nightfall.

He had no more than finished speaking, when the door opened, admitting Wotar and six guards. Quickly, ten prisoners were singled out and taken from the cell, among them Tharn and the golden haired Gorlat.

Upon reaching the arms-room, Wotar sent four prisoners, with as many guards, into the chamber, the others being forced to wait until the tiny room could be cleared. And of the four who entered, two were Tharn and Gorlat.

The door was closed and barred. The prisoners stood quietly, waiting for the attendant to parcel out weapons to them.

The crisis was at hand. Now that it had come, Tharn felt his muscles tense, his nerves grow taut, a deadly coolness steal through him. His eyes narrowed, as do the eyes of Tarlok preparing to leap upon unwary prey.

The air of the small chamber seemed suddenly charged with something electrical; a hushed breath of expectancy made the stillness strangely unbearable....

A guard cleared his throat uneasily, sending a harsh rasping note against the silence. He said, "Give each man a bow, ten arrows and a spear."

Removing a stone-tipped spear from a pile in one corner, the attendant offered it, b.u.t.t foremost, to the cave-man, who reached forth a steady hand to take it. As his fingers closed on the haft, and before anyone could guess his intention, Tharn drew back his arm and drove the triangle of flint into the man's throat, changing a scream of terror into a gasping whisper.

As the dying guard slumped forward, the other captives s.n.a.t.c.hed weapons from the supply about them and leaped upon the dazed soldiers, three of whom went down before they could lift a hand in defense.

Tharn, farthest from the group, was forced to cross the entire room before he could lay hands on the fourth guard. That one, instead of standing his ground, was seeking to reach and unbar the corridor door.

As he fumbled with the heavy timber, iron fingers closed on one shoulder and tore him away. Up and back he swung, high above Tharn's head; then his thrown body struck head foremost against the far wall, crushing the skull like a blown egg.

Turning to his comrades, Tharn found two of the three remaining guards were already accounted for. The third, however, had killed one rebel, and using the dead body as a shield, was successfully standing off all efforts of the two men seeking to reach him. In one hand he grasped a long spear, its darting head having already inflicted slight wounds on the menacing pair.

A thunderous pounding warned Tharn that the sounds of combat had aroused Wotar and his two men. The entire rebellion was being threatened by one courageous man; and unless this delay was speedily ended, the break for freedom was destined to end here and now.

Stooping, Tharn grasped the dead body of the attendant, straightened, and hurled it with all his giant strength full against the lone defender's human shield. So terrific was that impact, that the guard was swept completely from his feet. Before he could recover, Gorlat had slipped a knife into his heart.

Bounding forward, Tharn unbarred and threw open the door, and sprang into the corridor, his two friends at his heels. He had a brief glimpse of Wotar's hanging jaw and stupefied expression before the two factions closed in battle.

Wotar was no coward. As Tharn leaped toward him he whipped a knife from his belt and swung it savagely at the Cro-Magnard's broad chest.

Like the striking head of an angry snake, Tharn's hand shot out and closed on Wotar's wrist. Mighty fingers contracted, and the knife dropped from his nerveless grasp to clatter against the stone floor.

Tharn's free hand closed on the hapless leader's jaw, tightened, then wrenched the head in a vicious half-circle that left a broken neck in its wake.

When Tharn released the clay that once had been Wotar, master of Sephar's Games, he found no other foe alive within the corridor. Dead on the floor were the two guards, torn and mangled from the savage fury of those who had snuffed out their lives. Eight men, eyes alight, stood before him, awaiting instructions.

The cave dweller singled out two of them.

"Go back and open both cells. First, free those in our own room; Vulcar may not have convinced the others to join us. If so, our men can help in convincing them!

"Tell them the way is open to this room. Caution all to silence, that none overhears us and warns those we hope to surprise."

Tharn then motioned the remaining six into the arms-room. There, each armed himself with a bow, arrows, knife and a spear.

Soon they heard sounds of naked feet within the corridor, and into view, three abreast, came the former prisoners. At their head was Katon; beside him strode Vulcar, once captain of Urim's guards.

Tharn halted them just short of the a.r.s.enal. He ran his eyes along the ranks, and what he saw brought a smile of satisfaction to his lips.

As far back as his eyes could make out in the dimly lighted pa.s.sageway were men. There were at least a hundred and fifty--perhaps more; all eager for weapons and a chance to use them.

The Cro-Magnard held up one hand to gain their attention. "Remember," he said, "march into the arena quickly and in silence. Do not so much as glance at the spectators until I give the signal. And when that signal comes, seek to kill only priests and warriors. To attack the people of Sephar without cause would only make them hate and fear us. We cannot fight an entire city.

"Come forward now--three each time. Once within the arena, take the places I give you."

Three entered the arms-room. To each went a bow, quiver of arrows, complete with shoulder band; a knife and a spear. Tharn then opened the outer door and pa.s.sed them through, then pulled it shut and aided in arming the next three.

In that fashion twenty-seven were sent into the amphitheater before Tharn called a halt. Dimly, he could hear the rustling murmur from the packed stands, and he knew that all was well--thus far, at least.

He summoned Vulcar and Katon, now, gave them weapons identical to those issued to the others, and went with them into the arena, Rotark acting as door-keeper.

In a wide semi-circle at the far end of the sandy field stood the twenty-seven who had gone before them. They made a thin line, their backs close to the retaining wall, one end of which was almost directly below the loges occupied by Pryak and the Council of Priests. It was toward this section that Tharn and his two companions bent their steps.

The cave lord took a position less than four paces from the stone barrier at his back. Above him sat Pryak, high priest and ruler of Sephar, deep in conversation with Orbar.

Now, the second contingent of warriors began to issue from the arms-room. In groups of three, seconds apart, they emerged and took up positions near the wall at the arena's opposite end.

When an equal number were at either end of the enclosure, the influx of armed men became heavier. In groups of five, now, they appeared and formed a second row a few feet in front of the others and facing in the same direction. There were fully four score in the open by this time--and still they came.

Tharn knew the moment was fast approaching when suspicion would become aroused by this unprecedented concentration of warriors. Already a few priests were peering down at them, puzzled expressions on their faces.

The buzz of conversation began to fade; and here and there spectators were rising to their feet.

Pryak stood up, suddenly, and leaned over the railing.