21

Tarzan the Terrible

by Edgar R. Burroughs

21, TARZAN THE TERRIBLE by Edgar R. Burroughs
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The Maniac

THE last bar that would make the opening large enough to permit
his body to pass had been removed as Tarzan heard the warriors
whispering beyond the stone door of his prison. Long since had
the rope of hide been braided. To secure one end to the remaining
bar that he had left for this purpose was the work of but a
moment, and while the warriors whispered without, the brown body
of the ape-man slipped through the small aperture and disappeared
below the sill.

Tarzan's escape from the cell left him still within the walled
area that comprised the palace and temple grounds and buildings.
He had reconnoitered as best he might from the window after he
had removed enough bars to permit him to pass his head through
the opening, so that he knew what lay immediately before him--a
winding and usually deserted alleyway leading in the direction of
the outer gate that opened from the palace grounds into the city.

The darkness would facilitate his escape. He might even pass out
of the palace and the city without detection. If he could elude
the guard at the palace gate the rest would be easy. He strode
along confidently, exhibiting no fear of detection, for he
reasoned that thus would he disarm suspicion. In the darkness he
easily could pass for a Ho-don and in truth, though he passed
several after leaving the deserted alley, no one accosted or
detained him, and thus he came at last to the guard of a
half-dozen warriors before the palace gate. These he attempted to
pass in the same unconcerned fashion and he might have succeeded
had it not been for one who came running rapidly from the
direction of the temple shouting: "Let no one pass the gates! The
prisoner has escaped from the pal-ul-ja!"

Instantly a warrior barred his way and simultaneously the fellow
recognized him. "Xot tor!" he exclaimed: "Here he is now. Fall
upon him! Fall upon him! Back! Back before I kill you."

The others came forward. It cannot be said that they rushed
forward. If it was their wish to fall upon him there was a
noticeable lack of enthusiasm other than that which directed
their efforts to persuade someone else to fall upon him. His fame
as a fighter had been too long a topic of conversation for the
good of the morale of Mo-sar's warriors. It were safer to stand
at a distance and hurl their clubs and this they did, but the
ape-man had learned something of the use of this weapon since he
had arrived in Pal-ul-don. And as he learned great had grown his
respect for this most primitive of arms. He had come to realize
that the black savages he had known had never appreciated the
possibilities of their knob sticks, nor had he, and he had
discovered, too, why the Pal-ul-donians had turned their ancient
spears into plowshares and pinned their faith to the heavy-ended
club alone. In deadly execution it was far more effective than a
spear and it answered, too, every purpose of a shield, combining
the two in one and thus reducing the burden of the warrior.
Thrown as they throw it, after the manner of the hammer-throwers
of the Olympian games, an ordinary shield would prove more a
weakness than a strength while one that would be strong enough to
prove a protection would be too heavy to carry. Only another
club, deftly wielded to deflect the course of an enemy missile,
is in any way effective against these formidable weapons and,
too, the war club of Pal-ul-don can be thrown with accuracy a far
greater distance than any spear.

And now was put to the test that which Tarzan had learned from
Om-at and Ta-den. His eyes and his muscles trained by a lifetime
of necessity moved with the rapidity of light and his brain
functioned with an uncanny celerity that suggested nothing less
than prescience, and these things more than compensated for his
lack of experience with the war club he handled so dexterously.
Weapon after weapon he warded off and always he moved with a
single idea in mind--to place himself within reach of one of his
antagonists. But they were wary for they feared this strange
creature to whom the superstitious fears of many of them
attributed the miraculous powers of deity. They managed to keep
between Tarzan and the gateway and all the time they bawled
lustily for reinforcements. Should these come before he had made
his escape the ape-man realized that the odds against him would
be unsurmountable, and so he redoubled his efforts to carry out
his design.

Following their usual tactics two or three of the warriors were
always circling behind him collecting the thrown clubs when
Tarzan's attention was directed elsewhere. He himself retrieved
several of them which he hurled with such deadly effect as to
dispose of two of his antagonists, but now he heard the approach
of hurrying warriors, the patter of their bare feet upon the
stone pavement and then the savage cries which were to bolster
the courage of their fellows and fill the enemy with fear.

There was no time to lose. Tarzan held a club in either hand and,
swinging one he hurled it at a warrior before him and as the man
dodged he rushed in and seized him, at the same time casting his
second club at another of his opponents. The Ho-don with whom he
grappled reached instantly for his knife but the ape-man grasped
his wrist. There was a sudden twist, the snapping of a bone and
an agonized scream, then the warrior was lifted bodily from his
feet and held as a shield between his fellows and the fugitive as
the latter backed through the gateway. Beside Tarzan stood the
single torch that lighted the entrance to the palace grounds. The
warriors were advancing to the succor of their fellow when the
ape-man raised his captive high above his head and flung him full
in the face of the foremost attacker. The fellow went down and
two directly behind him sprawled headlong over their companion as
the ape-man seized the torch and cast it back into the palace
grounds to be extinguished as it struck the bodies of those who
led the charging reinforcements.

In the ensuing darkness Tarzan disappeared in the streets of
Tu-lur beyond the palace gate. For a time he was aware of sounds
of pursuit but the fact that they trailed away and died in the
direction of Jad-in-lul informed him that they were searching in
the wrong direction, for he had turned south out of Tu-lur
purposely to throw them off his track. Beyond the outskirts of
the city he turned directly toward the northwest, in which
direction lay A-lur.

In his path he knew lay Jad-bal-lul, the shore of which he was
compelled to skirt, and there would be a river to cross at the
lower end of the great lake upon the shores of which lay A-lur.
What other obstacles lay in his way he did not know but he
believed that he could make better time on foot than by
attempting to steal a canoe and force his way up stream with a
single paddle. It was his intention to put as much distance as
possible between himself and Tu-lur before he slept for he was
sure that Mo-sar would not lightly accept his loss, but that with
the coming of day, or possibly even before, he would dispatch
warriors in search of him.

A mile or two from the city he entered a forest and here at last
he felt such a measure of safety as he never knew in open spaces
or in cities. The forest and the jungle were his birthright. No
creature that went upon the ground upon four feet, or climbed
among the trees, or crawled upon its belly had any advantage over
the ape-man in his native heath. As myrrh and frankincense were
the dank odors of rotting vegetation in the nostrils of the great
Tarmangani. He squared his broad shoulders and lifting his head
filled his lungs with the air that he loved best. The heavy
fragrance of tropical blooms, the commingled odors of the
myriad-scented life of the jungle went to his head with a
pleasurable intoxication far more potent than aught contained in
the oldest vintages of civilization.

He took to the trees now, not from necessity but from pure love
of the wild freedom that had been denied him so long. Though it
was dark and the forest strange yet he moved with a surety and
ease that bespoke more a strange uncanny sense than wondrous
skill. He heard ja moaning somewhere ahead and an owl hooted
mournfully to the right of him--long familiar sounds that
imparted to him no sense of loneliness as they might to you or to
me, but on the contrary one of companionship for they betokened
the presence of his fellows of the jungle, and whether friend or
foe it was all the same to the ape-man.

He came at last to a little stream at a spot where the trees did
not meet above it so he was forced to descend to the ground and
wade through the water and upon the opposite shore he stopped as
though suddenly his godlike figure had been transmuted from flesh
to marble. Only his dilating nostrils bespoke his pulsing
vitality. For a long moment he stood there thus and then swiftly,
but with a caution and silence that were inherent in him he moved
forward again, but now his whole attitude bespoke a new urge.
There was a definite and masterful purpose in every movement of
those steel muscles rolling softly beneath the smooth brown hide.
He moved now toward a certain goal that quite evidently filled
him with far greater enthusiasm than had the possible event of
his return to A-lur.

And so he came at last to the foot of a great tree and there he
stopped and looked up above him among the foliage where the dim
outlines of a roughly rectangular bulk loomed darkly. There was
a choking sensation in Tarzan's throat as he raised himself
gently into the branches. It was as though his heart were
swelling either to a great happiness or a great fear.

Before the rude shelter built among the branches he paused
listening. From within there came to his sensitive nostrils the
same delicate aroma that had arrested his eager attention at the
little stream a mile away. He crouched upon the branch close to
the little door.

"Jane," he called, "heart of my heart, it is I."

The only answer from within was as the sudden indrawing of a
breath that was half gasp and half sigh, and the sound of a body
falling to the floor. Hurriedly Tarzan sought to release the
thongs which held the door but they were fastened from the
inside, and at last, impatient with further delay, he seized the
frail barrier in one giant hand and with a single effort tore it
completely away. And then he entered to find the seemingly
lifeless body of his mate stretched upon the floor.

He gathered her in his arms; her heart beat; she still breathed,
and presently he realized that she had but swooned.

When Jane Clayton regained consciousness it was to find herself
held tightly in two strong arms, her head pillowed upon the broad
shoulder where so often before her fears had been soothed and her
sorrows comforted. At first she was not sure but that it was all
a dream. Timidly her hand stole to his cheek.

"John," she murmured, "tell me, is it really you?"

In reply he drew her more closely to him. "It is I," he replied.
"But there is something in my throat," he said haltingly, "that
makes it hard for me to speak."

She smiled and snuggled closer to him. "God has been good to us,
Tarzan of the Apes," she said.

For some time neither spoke. It was enough that they were
reunited and that each knew that the other was alive and safe.
But at last they found their voices and when the sun rose they
were still talking, so much had each to tell the other; so many
questions there were to be asked and answered.

"And Jack," she asked, "where is he?"

"I do not know," replied Tarzan. "The last I heard of him he was
on the Argonne Front."

"Ah, then our happiness is not quite complete," she said, a
little note of sadness creeping into her voice.

"No," he replied, "but the same is true in countless other
English homes today, and pride is learning to take the place of
happiness in these."

She shook her head, "I want my boy," she said.

"And I too," replied Tarzan, "and we may have him yet. He was
safe and unwounded the last word I had. And now," he said, "we
must plan upon our return. Would you like to rebuild the bungalow
and gather together the remnants of our Waziri or would you
rather return to London?"

"Only to find Jack," she said. "I dream always of the bungalow
and never of the city, but John, we can only dream, for Obergatz
told me that he had circled this whole country and found no place
where he might cross the morass."

"I am not Obergatz," Tarzan reminded her, smiling. "We will rest
today and tomorrow we will set out toward the north. It is a
savage country, but we have crossed it once and we can cross it
again."

And so, upon the following morning, the Tarmangani and his mate
went forth upon their journey across the Valley of Jad-ben-Otho,
and ahead of them were fierce men and savage beasts, and the
lofty mountains of Pal-ul-don; and beyond the mountains the
reptiles and the morass, and beyond that the arid, thorn-covered
steppe, and other savage beasts and men and weary, hostile miles
of untracked wilderness between them and the charred ruins of
their home.

Lieutenant Erich Obergatz crawled through the grass upon all
fours, leaving a trail of blood behind him after Jane's spear had
sent him crashing to the ground beneath her tree. He made no
sound after the one piercing scream that had acknowledged the
severity of his wound. He was quiet because of a great fear that
had crept into his warped brain that the devil woman would pursue
and slay him. And so he crawled away like some filthy beast of
prey, seeking a thicket where he might lie down and hide.

He thought that he was going to die, but he did not, and with the
coming of the new day he discovered that his wound was
superficial. The rough obsidian-shod spear had entered the
muscles of his side beneath his right arm inflicting a painful,
but not a fatal wound. With the realization of this fact came a
renewed desire to put as much distance as possible between
himself and Jane Clayton. And so he moved on, still going upon
all fours because of a persistent hallucination that in this way
he might escape observation. Yet though he fled his mind still
revolved muddily about a central desire--while he fled from her
he still planned to pursue her, and to his lust of possession was
added a desire for revenge. She should pay for the suffering she
had inflicted upon him. She should pay for rebuffing him, but for
some reason which he did not try to explain to himself he would
crawl away and hide. He would come back though. He would come
back and when he had finished with her, he would take that smooth
throat in his two hands and crush the life from her.

He kept repeating this over and over to himself and then he fell
to laughing out loud, the cackling, hideous laughter that had
terrified Jane. Presently he realized his knees were bleeding and
that they hurt him. He looked cautiously behind. No one was in
sight. He listened. He could hear no indications of pursuit and
so he rose to his feet and continued upon his way a sorry
sight--covered with filth and blood, his beard and hair tangled
and matted and filled with burrs and dried mud and unspeakable
filth. He kept no track of time. He ate fruits and berries and
tubers that he dug from the earth with his fingers. He followed
the shore of the lake and the river that he might be near water,
and when ja roared or moaned he climbed a tree and hid there,
shivering.

And so after a time he came up the southern shore of Jad-ben-lul
until a wide river stopped his progress. Across the blue water a
white city glimmered in the sun. He looked at it for a long time,
blinking his eyes like an owl. Slowly a recollection forced
itself through his tangled brain. This was A-lur, the City of
Light. The association of ideas recalled Bu-lur and the
Waz-ho-don. They had called him Jad-ben-Otho. He commenced to
laugh aloud and stood up very straight and strode back and forth
along the shore. "I am Jad-ben-Otho," he cried, "I am the Great
God. In A-lur is my temple and my high priests. What is
Jad-ben-Otho doing here alone in the jungle?"

He stepped out into the water and raising his voice shrieked
loudly across toward A-lur. "I am Jad-ben-Otho!" he screamed.
"Come hither slaves and take your god to his temple." But the
distance was great and they did not hear him and no one came, and
the feeble mind was distracted by other things--a bird flying in
the air, a school of minnows swimming around his feet. He lunged
at them trying to catch them, and falling upon his hands and
knees he crawled through the water grasping futilely at the
elusive fish.

Presently it occurred to him that he was a sea lion and he forgot
the fish and lay down and tried to swim by wriggling his feet in
the water as though they were a tail. The hardships, the
privations, the terrors, and for the past few weeks the lack of
proper nourishment had reduced Erich Obergatz to little more than
a gibbering idiot.

A water snake swam out upon the surface of the lake and the man
pursued it, crawling upon his hands and knees. The snake swam
toward the shore just within the mouth of the river where tall
reeds grew thickly and Obergatz followed, making grunting noises
like a pig. He lost the snake within the reeds but he came upon
something else--a canoe hidden there close to the bank. He
examined it with cackling laughter. There were two paddles within
it which he took and threw out into the current of the river. He
watched them for a while and then he sat down beside the canoe
and commenced to splash his hands up and down upon the water. He
liked to hear the noise and see the little splashes of spray. He
rubbed his left forearm with his right palm and the dirt came off
and left a white spot that drew his attention. He rubbed again
upon the now thoroughly soaked blood and grime that covered his
body. He was not attempting to wash himself; he was merely amused
by the strange results. "I am turning white," he cried. His
glance wandered from his body now that the grime and blood were
all removed and caught again the white city shimmering beneath
the hot sun.

"A-lur--City of Light!" he shrieked and that reminded him again
of Tu-lur and by the same process of associated ideas that had
before suggested it, he recalled that the Waz-ho-don had thought
him Jad-ben-Otho.

"I am Jad-ben-Otho!" he screamed and then his eyes fell again
upon the canoe. A new idea came and persisted. He looked down at
himself, examining his body, and seeing the filthy loin cloth,
now water soaked and more bedraggled than before, he tore it from
him and flung it into the lake. "Gods do not wear dirty rags," he
said aloud. "They do not wear anything but wreaths and garlands
of flowers and I am a god--I am Jad-ben-Otho--and I go in state
to my sacred city of A-lur."

He ran his fingers through his matted hair and beard. The water
had softened the burrs but had not removed them. The man shook
his head. His hair and beard failed to harmonize with his other
godly attributes. He was commencing to think more clearly now,
for the great idea had taken hold of his scattered wits and
concentrated them upon a single purpose, but he was still a
maniac. The only difference being that he was now a maniac with a
fixed intent. He went out on the shore and gathered flowers and
ferns and wove them in his beard and hair--blazing blooms of
different colors--green ferns that trailed about his ears or rose
bravely upward like the plumes in a lady's hat.

When he was satisfied that his appearance would impress the most
casual observer with his evident deity he returned to the canoe,
pushed it from shore and jumped in. The impetus carried it into
the river's current and the current bore it out upon the lake.
The naked man stood erect in the center of the little craft, his
arms folded upon his chest. He screamed aloud his message to the
city: "I am Jad-ben-Otho! Let the high priest and the under
priests attend upon me!"

As the current of the river was dissipated by the waters of the
lake the wind caught him and his craft and carried them bravely
forward. Sometimes he drifted with his back toward A-lur and
sometimes with his face toward it, and at intervals he shrieked
his message and his commands. He was still in the middle of the
lake when someone discovered him from the palace wall, and as he
drew nearer, a crowd of warriors and women and children were
congregated there watching him and along the temple walls were
many priests and among them Lu-don, the high priest. When the
boat had drifted close enough for them to distinguish the bizarre
figure standing in it and for them to catch the meaning of his
words Lu-don's cunning eyes narrowed. The high priest had learned
of the escape of Tarzan and he feared that should he join
Ja-don's forces, as seemed likely, he would attract many recruits
who might still believe in him, and the Dor-ul-Otho, even if a
false one, upon the side of the enemy might easily work havoc
with Lu-don's plans.

The man was drifting close in. His canoe would soon be caught in
the current that ran close to shore here and carried toward the
river that emptied the waters of Jad-ben-lul into Jad-bal-lul.
The under priests were looking toward Lu-don for instructions.

"Fetch him hither!" he commanded. "If he is Jad-ben-Otho I shall
know him."

The priests hurried to the palace grounds and summoned warriors.
"Go, bring the stranger to Lu-don. If he is Jad-ben-Otho we shall
know him."

And so Lieutenant Erich Obergatz was brought before the high
priest at A-lur. Lu-don looked closely at the naked man with the
fantastic headdress.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"I am Jad-ben-Otho," cried the German. "I came from heaven. Where
is my high priest?"

"I am the high priest," replied Lu-don.

Obergatz clapped his hands. "Have my feet bathed and food brought
to me," he commanded.

Lu-don's eyes narrowed to mere slits of crafty cunning. He bowed
low until his forehead touched the feet of the stranger. Before
the eyes of many priests, and warriors from the palace he did it.

"Ho, slaves"" he cried, rising; "fetch water and food for the
Great God," and thus the high priest acknowledged before his
people the godhood of Lieutenant Erich Obergatz, nor was it long
before the story ran like wildfire through the palace and out
into the city and beyond that to the lesser villages all the way
from A-lur to Tu-lur.

The real god had come--Jad-ben-Otho himself, and he had espoused
the cause of Lu-don, the high priest. Mo-sar lost no time in
placing himself at the disposal of Lu-don, nor did he mention
aught about his claims to the throne. It was Mo-sar's opinion that
he might consider himself fortunate were he allowed to remain in
peaceful occupation of his chieftainship at Tu-lur, nor was
Mo-sar wrong in his deductions.

But Lu-don could still use him and so he let him live and sent
word to him to come to A-lur with all his warriors, for it was
rumored that Ja-don was raising a great army in the north and
might soon march upon the City of Light.

Obergatz thoroughly enjoyed being a god. Plenty of food and peace
of mind and rest partially brought back to him the reason that
had been so rapidly slipping from him; but in one respect he was
madder than ever, since now no power on earth would ever be able
to convince him that he was not a god. Slaves were put at his
disposal and these he ordered about in godly fashion. The same
portion of his naturally cruel mind met upon common ground the
mind of Lu-don, so that the two seemed always in accord. The high
priest saw in the stranger a mighty force wherewith to hold
forever his power over all Pal-ul-don and thus the future of
Obergatz was assured so long as he cared to play god to Lu-don's
high priest.

A throne was erected in the main temple court before the eastern
altar where Jad-ben-Otho might sit in person and behold the
sacrifices that were offered up to him there each day at sunset.
So much did the cruel, half-crazed mind enjoy these spectacles
that at times he even insisted upon wielding the sacrificial
knife himself and upon such occasions the priests and the people
fell upon their faces in awe of the dread deity.

If Obergatz taught them not to love their god more he taught them
to fear him as they never had before, so that the name of
Jad-ben-Otho was whispered in the city and little children were
frightened into obedience by the mere mention of it. Lu-don,
through his priests and slaves, circulated the information that
Jad-ben-Otho had commanded all his faithful followers to flock to
the standard of the high priest at A-lur and that all others were
cursed, especially Ja-don and the base impostor who had posed as
the Dor-ul-Otho. The curse was to take the form of early death
following terrible suffering, and Lu-don caused it to be
published abroad that the name of any warrior who complained of a
pain should be brought to him, for such might be deemed to be
under suspicion, since the first effects of the curse would
result in slight pains attacking the unholy. He counseled those
who felt pains to look carefully to their loyalty. The result was
remarkable and immediate--half a nation without a pain, and
recruits pouring into A-lur to offer their services to Lu-don
while secretly hoping that the little pains they had felt in arm
or leg or belly would not recur in aggravated form.