Savage Lands Read Online Free Page A

beginning to test Tarzan’s patience, like a tick that couldn’t be scratched. He knew the Targarni numbered enough to evict the Mangani from the territory if they wished, so Tarzan was puzzled as to why they insisted on only small skirmishes.
    After almost an hour, he sensed he was close to the heart of the Targarni’s home. He could smell their stale stench, even through the odor of the foul Thunder Mountain. Tarzan paused at the top of a crooked tree that bent out from the slope of the mountain below, offering an unrivaled view of the land.
    The volcano’s peak rose behind him, and he judged himself to be close to the edge of the trees, near the barren scree slopes that took the brunt of the red rocks occasionally ejected from the cone. Thin plumes of gray smoke rolled from the cone, but Tarzan was accustomed to the sight. Here the soil was rich, and the jungle more lush than the valley below.
    Tarzan remained stock-still, absorbing the world around him. The sounds of the jungle were comforting. Nothing was amiss, yet the smell of the Targarni assured him danger was at hand. A pair of neeta dropped onto the branch close to him and ruffled their bright yellow feathers as they preened. They didn’t consider Tarzan a threat, just part of the scenery, so didn’t notice him slink to the ground.
    Using a trailing liana, Tarzan gently lowered himself without a sound. Doubled over, he stealthily ran up the slope, toward the strengthening scent of Targarni. Every one of his senses was now pulsing—something was very wrong. He crouched behind a boulder and peered over the top.
    The ground beyond was shrouded in a fine mist. The trees thinned out, clinging to a network of large rocks that sprouted among the jungle. It took a moment for the stone’s regularity to register with Tarzan, and he suddenly realized what he was looking at was the work of man, not nature. Even the boulder he was hunkering behind was several huge square stone blocks carefully fitted together. There was no obvious pattern to the ruins. They were nothing like the geometric shapes he had seen in the city or even in Jane’s camp. There were images carved into the rock, most so weatherworn it was impossible to discern what they were supposed to be.
    Tarzan had no interest in pictures. Emerging from behind the boulder, he took several cautious steps forward. Through the mist, he could see that there was something ahead, but could not quite make out what it was. The volcanic fumes and mist were rendering Tarzan’s honed senses almost useless. Then he froze.
    A pair of massive claws protruded from the undergrowth, perhaps a lion’s, but it was difficult to tell. Nevertheless, they represented a beast the size of the trees. His heart pounded, but he held his ground long enough to see that the claws were made from stone. Between them lay a black void, an entrance of some kind. It was from there that the unpleasant smell emanated. Tarzan recognized it as the stench of death.
    Tarzan quickly retreated. His thoughts on the Targarni were blacker than ever and uncertainty gnawed at him. Had he made a mistake bringing his family there?
    â€¢ • •
    L ord William Greystoke had taken Jane’s offer to accompany them with a charming smile and assurances that he only meant to help his cousin and not hinder him. Clark took her sudden change in attitude with a huge amount of scepticism. His brow furrowed further when Jane apologized to him for losing her temper.
    It took several hours for the expedition to pack their gear. William Greystoke played his part helping others, not once complaining. It was a move that gained the respect of Archie and the loggers, who expected the lord to consider himself above such things.
    By 10 a.m., Greystoke, Archie, Robbie, and Jane were ready, delayed only by Clark, who had difficulty shouldering his heavy supplies due to his injured leg. Even though they expected to be away for no more than