Avenger of Antares by Alan Burt Akers Read Free Book Online Page B

pay these good Yuccamots for their hospitality. If we all put together what we have, we may yet find we have enough to buy a boat.”
    “This I doubt, Koter,” said Captain Ehren. “Faith! All my treasures are gone with the old
Ovynth!”
    “And mine! And mine!” various survivors commented.
    I moved forward.
    “The offer made by Koter Endo is brave and generous. We will pay these Yuccamots for their food and drink. But we will have no need to steal a boat. We shall take a flier from the Opaz-forsaken cramphs of the Hamalian Air Service!”
    They gaped at me.
    “And how, Prince Majister,” said Vad Nalgre, emphasizing the title and thus further insulting me by his tone, “do you propose to do that?”
    But Hikdar Insur ti Fotor had jumped forward, excitedly speaking over the last of the Vad’s words.
    “By Vox! It is a good plan, Prince! Let us go forth now and show these Hamalian vosks how true Vallians fight!”
    In the hubbub that followed these survivors further divided out. There were those, led by the Vad, who were for stealing a boat. There were those who would strike for the air station and take a flier. I held up my arm.
    “Let there be no dissension here. We strike a blow for Vallia if we take a voller. We merely embarrass poor fisher-folk if we steal a boat.” I bent my ugly face toward the Vad. “And in any case, Vad Nalgre, do not think, if we stole a boat, that you would be excused rowing.”
    Some in the gathered throng, ruffianly seamen mostly, guffawed lustily at this sally.
    The Vad flushed, and yet he was deathly still, icy. His Vallian nobility was outraged by the crude words and ways of a hairy barbarian who had dared to marry the Princess Majestrix of the empire of Vallia.
    My old figurehead of a face must have worn that look of the devil, for the Vad of Kavinstok, for all his icy coolness, flinched back. His hand crept up and fingered the black and white favor fastened with the gold and opaz brooch he had made sure not to lose. His anger burned within him, his eyes showed the cost of holding his tongue. But he could not stop himself from saying: “I shall remember, Prince Majestrix! By Lycurs, I shall remember!”

CHAPTER FIVE
    “For Vallia and Prince Dray!”
    There is little to be said about the affray against the Hamalian Air Service station upon that forlorn little island of the Risshamal Keys. Leaving those of our company who, like Lorgad Endo, were not fighting-men, and leaving, also, the wounded we had carried here on litters improvised from wreckage, the rest of us set off.
    We panted along over the coarse sand and the coarse grasses, addressing ourselves to the discomfort of the journey. The weather remained bright and hot, and this close to the equator we were soon sweating and puffing. But I would brook no delay.
    The air station turned out to be a mere miserable stockade constructed of coral and rocks, for timbers were hard to come by here. The Hamalese flag floated from a mast. Sentries patrolled, their bronze helmets brazen in the twin suns’ glare.
    No, there is little needs to be said. We surprised them and fought until we had killed enough to make the rest throw down their arms. We were merciful, although Wersting Rogahan fingered an evil-looking knife, muttering about slit throats.
    There were but two vollers there. One was the little patrol craft we had seen earlier, a three-seater, fast and not particularly comfortable. The other was more substantial, with decking and varter platforms, with two masts from which our first concern was to strip away the Hamalese flags.
    We discovered that a third flier, similar to this second one, was away on extended patrol over the islands. That, I reasoned, had been the rast who had thrown down the iron pots of fire upon
Ovvend Barynth
and
Maskinonge.
    The moment this flier returned we could expect pursuit.
    Someone had let rip a defiant yell, as we fought, shouting: “Vallia! Vallia!” And someone else, caught up in the