Bill Harvey listened to her soft voice with sad amazement, realizing, despite his own agony, that she knew not what she was saying. The Belgian and the German listened to her with rejoicing in their hearts. It had worked. She was in their power, and she would be their instrument for keeping the American with them.

  The oddly assorted group moved across the bloody campsite and disappeared into the dark jungle beyond. As the moon shone brightly down upon the clearing, it revealed the huge body of Basuli who lay, flat on his back, blind eyes staring with suffering after the unseen group. Finally, he raised himself painfully upon his hands and knees and crawled slowly toward the trees at the far side of the clearing. Again and again he sank weakly to the bloody ground, but each time he rose again and continued his pitiable way toward the only safety he could imagine in this vale of terror. After what seemed to him a night without end, he reached the first tree. The great warrior somehow raised himself to its lower terrace, then, with inhuman strength, onward and upward to the greater safety of the middle terrace.

  All night Basuli lay there, falling from time to time into a fretful, uneasy sleep, then painfully awakening to the ugly present. He did not see the two snake-men who returned to the clearing for the purpose of killing him. Nerag, the leader of the snake-men, had learned from the Belgian that his hypnotic powers could be used effectively only when he did not attempt to force a victim into an action repellent to himself. Knowing that Lady Greystoke could never bring herself to the murder of a protector, nor to allowing anyone to harm such a faithful warrior as Basuli had been, Nerag had implanted into her brain the thought that her going peacefully with his men was a means of saving the life of Basuli. Nerag had been less than a mile from the campsite when he had dropped back and sent two of his men to return to the scene of the battle and kill the last remaining witness. So it was that Basuli’s earlier valor served to save his life. For those added minutes of battle given by the American and the noble Waziri had been of far more importance than either had realized. The snake-men had a long journey before them. A journey they must make before the sun rose. If they failed to get back to their own well-protected land during the night, they would become immobilized, and the day people of Lyta could easily undo all they had done. It was for this reason that the two snake-men failed to seek the missing Basuli and finish him off. They spoke of looking for him, but both agreed it was best to lie to their leader Nerag, to claim to have carried out his orders, rather than to risk being caught by the rising sun and the vengeful snake-men of the day. Also, the Belgian had taught his lessons well. Neither of the snake-men gave much credit to the mentality or bravery of the Waziri.

  They wasted not a minute in search of Basuli, but once having agreed upon their story for Nerag, raced silently away, in a fear-inspired attempt to reach their fellow people.

  In the middle terrace, Basuli heard them not. Blind and hurting though he still remained, Basuli had but one thought. Revenge! Revenge for Tarzan. Revenge for Jane. And revenge for the nobility of the Waziri warriors lying dead in the clearing below!

  CHAPTER IX

  The Secret Chambers of Narda

  Goro, the moon, was still high in the heavens when Tarzan of the Apes awakened, eyes still burning from the poisonous venom, but his magnificent sight restored. Unlike Basuli, the ape-man would not have to suffer hours of blindness. His blood and his recuperative powers were far beyond the ken of the ordinary man.

  The cavern in which he found himself was similar in size and shape to the home of Lyta; however, it’s furnishings were far more luxurious, and there, were no smoking fires of protection throughout the room nor at the entrance.

  “You are awake, Tarzan. You are indeed a man of much strength. For when one of your race has been felled by the venom of a snake-man, he is usually powerless for many hours—for that matter, some of your people can never recover.”

  Tarzan turned his bronzed body toward the voice. The cavern was illuminated by strange mounds of glowing dirt-like substances. In the eerie light, Tarzan saw Narda, the night priestess, standing proud and erect across the room from him. She was, in her own way, as stunningly beautiful as her sister, Lyta. The same full, rounded body; the same jutting bosom, incredibly slim waist, and long, shapely legs. Her coloring was, however, vastly different—as different from that of Lyta as day is from night. For whereas Lyta had exuded a blondness from head to toe, Narda’s hair was of a blue-black, and her skin of an olive ripeness. Her eyes, the same strange-lidded and shaped eyes as Lyta’s were, instead of the pale blue of her sister, a deep, almost black shade of green. There was about Narda, and for that matter, about her quarters as well, an air of corruptness, even of evil unguessed at.

  “Where,” the ape-man spoke as he pulled himself up to a sitting position, “is your Belgian? I must speak to this evil man. I must stop this violent war between sisters. You, I assume are Narda, the beloved sister of Lyta?”

  The pure evilness of her laughter gave Tarzan pause for thought. This indeed, he told himself, was a woman corrupted. “You will see my Belgian, when I am ready for you to see him, Tarzan. Not before. You are not master here, O lord of the jungle. You are my slave!”

  “Tarzan is slave to no man—nor woman!” The deep voice of the man should have warned Narda. It should have told her that this captive of hers was not of the same weak ilk as her Belgian lover, and not to be toyed with as any of her snake-men could be during their brief lives as men-shaped men. She had not enough experience, however, with true men to read the warning.

  This time her answering laughter was bitter rather than evil. All had not been happiness between Narda and her Belgian lover. She had learned early in their evil relationship that men of the tarmangani tribes were not as those of her snake-men. Yet, somehow, the stories she had so long heard of this man called Tarzan had inflamed her heart with a great desire to know him, to know him fully, to know a true man instead of the false, greedy white man she had been fool enough to link herself with. Despite the corrupt practices Keinin had taught Narda, there remained within her brain and her heart the memories of better days. Perhaps, the idea flickered tantalizingly through her mind, Tarzan of the Apes might help her find her way back to those days. Perhaps they could rid her people of the yoke of the Belgian and find happiness together.

  Narda looked down upon Tarzan, sitting there so calmly, so filled with strength, and tears rose to her eyes so that she had to turn her face from him that he should not see this sign of weakness. He would, she decided at that moment, either join forces with her or she should torture and kill this man.

  Speaking not to him, she began to pace back and forth across her chambers, as the ape-man remained sitting stoically upon the floor near her. He knew that he had no hope of escape until the night ended. While none of Narda’s snake-men were in the chamber to guard her, Tarzan did not doubt the presence of a veritable army of them just outside her door, ready to pour in at the first sign of danger to their priestess. And while he feared no man, and few beasts, the ape-man was aware that even he could not hope to defeat a small army of huge snakes, armed not only with their poisonous venom, but with the brains of men to assist in their use of the snake bodies. He had no hope of help from Lyta and her tribe, not until the sun rose at any rate. Perhaps it would be impossible even then for Lyta’s men to help him. Surely Narda would not have brought him here if she did not feel she had made sufficient plans to retain him during the dangerous hours of the sun. Still, as he watched Narda pace to and fro, the ape-man smiled at her nervousness. Despite her seeming concentration upon other subjects, Narda caught a glimpse of this smile from the corner of her green slanting eyes. She glared at her captive, and muttered something beneath her breath, but she did not spit her venom upon him, nor did she call for any of her snake-men. “I shall hide him deep in the secret chambers, before the devil sun arises,” she said to herself, “If he will not join with me, tomorrow night my people shall be given his body for their pleasures.” She looked down again upon his incredibly perfect male body, and upon his masculinely beautiful face. She steeled herself against his possible rejection, although, deep within herself, Narda knew that she had lost this god-like man before she’d ever claimed him. At the thought of this insult, she moved directly across the room to the ape-man, and taking a long, thin steel blade from the metallic girdle that encircled her slender hips placed its point against his throat.

  Tarzan looked into her eyes and laughed out loud. He came dangerously close to forcing her hand, but as the quick anger surged into her heart, her slumberous eyes saw once again the beauty of the man before her. How perfect that bronzed body. She compared it mentally with her snake-men, even with the bodies they assumed during the mating periods, and she shuddered at the comparison. She placed the knife back into its sheath at her girdle, and moved away from this wondrous person. Once again, Narda began to pace her chambers.

  Outside, the darkness of the jungle night began to fade, and the first dim lights of the forthcoming dawn began to pale the skies. Into the chambers of Narda came the sound of a voice, the voice of one of her guards. While Tarzan could not understand the language of the Snake People as they talked among themselves, from the expressions which flitted across Narda’s face as she answered, questioned and answered again, he knew something had gone wrong with her plans for this night.

  “It is coming close to daybreak, Priestess Narda, and our men have not yet returned with the mate of Tarzan. What shall we do about them “

  “Have they been spotted by our clifftop sentries, O Namon?” Narda asked by way of reply.

  “They cannot be seen, Priestess. And while you spoke with our prisoner, Tarzan, three of the lower guards went forth into the jungle, insearch of them. If they do not arrive almost immediately, they will be lost to the men of Lyta!”

  “The lower guards are not still out there?” Narda spoke angrily. “And why was I not advised they were leaving our fortress “

  “I tried only to help you, Priestess,” the snake-man’s voice took on a tinge of fear. Narda was ‘a strong woman, a leader who did not appreciate her people taking any of her responsibilities away from her.

  “All right, Namon. All right. But send none of my people out again without my permission. We have lost many brave snake-men during this war. And it is still another moon before we may mate to replenish our tribe.” She fell silent, but her pacing continued in an even more agitated fashion. “Send one of your men to the clifftop guards. He is to return to me at once if they have news. It is not for the mate of Tarzan that I fear. If Keinin has her, he can get her here, even though the sun does rise. But our people will be at the mercy of the day snakes. And Lyta will not fail to take full advantage of that! Now, stand guard faithfully. I take Tarzan to the secret chamber, that he will be safely our prisoner throughout your somnolent hours!”

  To Tarzan, any moment of life was a chance to prolong his living. Therefore he did not argue with Narda as she hissed her instructions that he follow. He had listened most carefully to the priestess of the day people. He knew full well that Narda was new to this fortress, and that because of her limitations it could well be the so-called secret chamber could turn into an escape route of unbelievable ease. It could also not be the case, but at this point any chance was better than that which showed its face.

  As the lithe and tawny Tarzanand the sleek seductress moved rapidly through the passageway toward her secret chambers, neither spoke. Narda, aware as she might be of the man behind her, was tremendously worried about the snake-men the Belgian had borrowed from her for his great plan. Tarzan, in turn, was alertly watching every turn and angle of the long, winding way, in search of a means of escape. Their swift, silent movements lent added mystery to the scene.

  Finally the two arrived at a strange, tortuous turn which led into an equally strange room. As the ape-man looked about it became immediately obvious to him he was in an ancient temple, built by a people long forgotten. That Narda had been here before was quite obvious because of the strange, earth-like heaps of illumination. His pulse quickened as he sniffed the fresh air pouring into the temple from some obscure opening. He glanced at Narda, who seemed oblivious of this harbinger for escape. She was right—in her own way. But she, as had so many others before her, had failed to realize the fantastic strength and capabilities of this man. To her, the hypnotic gaze she thrust upon her captive, and the jet of venom she burst into his eyes, were more than enough to keep him immobile during the day hours to come. The dark woman did not, could not, know that a man of Tarzan’s nature would never succumb to her hypnotic powers. She should have realized, having just been witness to his incredible recovery from the venomous assault by her snake-men that he would not long be powerless. But her reasoning was faulty. And so she left the ape-man, seemingly her captive. It was to be under vastly different circumstances that she would face him once more!

  The Journey from the desecrated campsite through the night jungle and back to the Valley of the Volcanos was a nightmare to allot its participants excepting Jane. In dazed trance she alone among the group failed to note the wild jungle hatred surrounding them. It was as though every beast in the land knew that the hated Snake People had taken, first Tarzan of the Apes, and now his mate. Gone was the eerie silence the presence of the snake-men usually enforced. The screams of the big cats echoed about the captives and their captors; screams of frustrated anger and hatred. The snake-men drew their forces closer and tighter as time and again one of their number was attacked by Simba and his sons. It was an uneven battle, as the monstrously strong snake-men had their humanoid brains and their maddening poisonous venom with which to protect themselves, as well as the crushing power of their great coiled bodies. Still, the cats did not stop their harassment of the party, audit became increasingly evident to both Nerag, the leader, and Keinin, the Belgian, that if these assaults continued they could result in such loss of precious night hours as to defeat completely the successful culmination of the kidnapping plan. So it was that Keinin and Nerag moved to one side of the group, and together agreed to send out a certain number of the snake-men to meet the cats in pitched battle. These men were to be considered expendable for the good of the majority. Pierre Sortie, watching the two from his position safely within the ranks of the snake-men, wished fervently that he had never joined forces with the wily Belgian. Even the thought of the millions of ill-gotten dollars he might some day receive failed to dim the nightmarish quality of this march, and the terrifying fears that held his mind and body in bondage. Bill Harvey, who had received the most powerful of the poisonous jets was still unable to see, and was being led gently along the path by the hand of Jane, who whispered comforting words and encouragement to her good and true friend. As the chattering of the monkeys, the guttural sounds of many Jungle beasts and the screams of the cats continued unabated, the party wended its way constantly toward the safety of Narda’s fortress. As they neared the volcanic lake past which Tarzan had walked the previous day, the first pale rays of the dawn began to lighten the night skies. Angered though the beasts of Tarzan’s jungle had been, they dared not follow the group into this entrance to their lair. Across the strange clearing, the night snake-people could see the red-rimmed eyes of their former brothers, waiting sullenly for that first ray of sunshine which would release their angry powers and entrap the night-men to their mercy.

  Nerag approached Keinin swiftly. “Not all of us are going to make it back safely,” he told the evil Belgian. “There are but a few minutes of movement left to us. I have advised the forward marchers to race toward our fortress at their full speed, leaving you and the prisoners to your own pace.”

  “You can’t do that, Nerag. It is cowardly, and it will arouse the wrath of Narda, your priestess!”

  The snake-man flared his ugly nostrils at the Belgain. “When Narda learns how many we have lost this night, to further your plans, Keinin, her wrath may well turn against you! I have already given my instructions to the forward guard. And my son is instructing those behind us, those who have no chance at all to get back before the devil sun paralyses them, to seek whatever shelter they can find. Lyta’s forces will show us no mercy, but I shall not have my brave people decimated further—not if I can stop it. At least a few of them may find a swale in which they will remain undiscovered until the cloud of night frees them once again.”

  “But what shall I . . ‘

  “You are not stopped by our enemy the sun. You have told our beloved Narda that your brain and your foreign ways know many ways of protection and warfare of which we are ignorant. You have but a short distance to safety. If you spoke the truth, surely you can outwit Lyta’s forces. They do not regain their full powers at once. It takes a little time, as it does for us when nighttime falls. I leave you now, for I too will try to get back to Narda. She needs me now, more than ever!”

  With these words, the huge snake-man propelled his body across the clearing at a fantastic speed, rapidly cutting the distance between himself and the fast-moving troops ahead of him. Looking back, Keinin was amazed to see the empty clearing behind him. Not one of the many snake-men who had been there when he first spoke with Nerag remained within sight. Pierre Sortie, bewildered, and still all but overcome by the horrible events of the night, sobbed in terror to Keinin: “They’ve deserted us. What is to become of us now “

  The Belgian slapped him sharply across his face. “I know how to get back. I’ll lead, but we must hurry. Any moment now, the snake-men of Lyta will be free to assault us. If they succeed, all of our plans are for naught. We will never get away from them alive!” He moved sharply away from the hysterical German, and reaching Jane and the wounded Bill Harvey, bade them hurry. As they passed the bubbling lake, the first rays of the sun hit the lava, and a million sparkling reflections lit up the clearing.