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"Stay!" he cried, "or the woman dies, for such is the command of O-Tar, rather
than that she again fall into your hands."
Gahan stopped. But a few feet separated him from Tara and her captor, yet he
was helpless to aid her. Slowly the warrior backed toward the open doorway
behind him, dragging Tara with him. The girl struggled and fought, but the
warrior was a powerful man and having seized her by the harness from behind
was able to hold her in a position of helplessness.
"Save me, Turan!" she cried. "Let them not drag me to a fate worse than death.
Better that I die now while my eyes behold a brave friend than later, fighting
alone among enemies in defense of my honor."
He took a step nearer. The warrior made a threatening gesture with his sword
close to the soft, smooth skin of the princess, and Gahan halted.
"I cannot, Tara of Helium," he cried. "Think not ill of me that I am weak--that I
cannot see you die. Too great is my love for you, daughter of Helium."
The Manatorian warrior, a derisive grin upon his lips, backed steadily away. He
had almost reached the doorway when Gahan saw another warrior in the
chamber toward which Tara was being borne--a fellow who moved silently, almost
stealthily, across the marble floor as he approached Tara's captor from behind. In
his right hand he grasped a long-sword.
"Two to one," thought Gahan, and a grim smile touched his lips, for he had no
doubt that once they had Tara safely in the adjoining chamber the two would set
upon him. If he could not save her, he could at least die for her.
And then, suddenly, Gahan's eyes fastened with amazement upon the figure of
the warrior behind the grinning fellow who held Tara and was forcing her to the
doorway. He saw the newcomer step almost within arm's reach of the other. He
saw him stop, an expression of malevolent hatred upon his features. He saw the
great sword swing through the arc of a great circle, gathering swift and terrific
momentum from its own weight backed by the brawn of the steel thews that
guided it; he saw it pass through the feathered skull of the Manatorian, splitting
his sardonic grin in twain, and open him to the middle of his breast bone.
As the dead hand relaxed its grasp upon Tara's wrist the girl leaped forward,
without a backward glance, to Gahan's side. His left arm encircled her, nor did
she draw away, as with ready sword the Gatholian awaited Fate's next decree.
Before them Tara's deliverer was wiping the blood from his sword upon the hair of
his victim. He was evidently a Manatorian, his trappings those of the Jeddak's
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