Savage Lands by Andy Briggs Page B

“You must extract a lot of ore from here.”
    Greystoke sniffed at the idea and walked toward the cabins, forcing the others to keep pace with him. “It used to be a lucrative mine. My father set it up on the assumption the coltan reserves ran deep. Alas, he was mistaken. We’ve taken about all we can from this area.”
    â€œIs that why you wanted the survey plans from the airplane?” said Robbie suddenly. “You think whatever’s in the lost city of Opar is worth more than this?”
    As he reached the cabin, Greystoke spun on his heel and glared at Robbie with deep-rooted annoyance. “Much more! But those plans alone cover a huge geographic survey of the region. My uncle spent millions surveying this land.” He waved his hand toward the jungle. “And with thousands of square miles still un­explored. Who knows what’s out there, waiting for us? An inconceivable fortune …”
    â€œAnd it’s all yours?” said Jane sarcastically.
    Greystoke opened the door of a cabin, pausing only to look back at her. “It is there for whoever takes it first,” he said with a sardonic smile. “Survival of the fittest.”
    â€¢ • •
    D eep underground, Tarzan sprinted along a straight tunnel that angled further down, following the sound of screaming. The temperature was increasing and sweat glistened on his skin. It was more cloying than the humid rainforest above, a dry unforgiving heat.
    A light ahead burned with more ferocity than the luminous vegetation clinging to the walls. Tarzan slowed his pace, dropping to all fours and pressing himself against the smooth stone as he approached the opening.
    There was a bigger cavern beyond, and the tunnel Tarzan was in offered a view from midway up. It was a colossal natural cavern. Steps led down to the massive floor below, carved from the stone by hand. Several single-story buildings, now nothing more than ruins, spread across the floor in what would have once been a subterranean town. Luminous lichen and half-moon fungi clung to the rubble wherever it could, giving an almost dreamlike quality.
    In a wide area, like a town plaza, the Targarni had gathered—more of them than Tarzan had ever seen before. They were pale from spending too much time underground, but none as pure white as Goyad, who stood on his knuckles on an elevated platform. The apes appeared to be watching the captives. Tarzan could not see the humans as the few buildings remaining standing blocked his view. But he could hear the female’s screams.
    He edged closer to the top of the staircase. If he were seen, only his head start would prevent him from being torn limb from limb. Almost nothing frightened Tarzan, yet the thought of fighting an inevitable losing battle with the apes made him cautious. The steps fanned out in a graceful one hundred and eighty degrees, allowing Tarzan to edge down the side flanks, which offered better cover from prying eyes. Luckily, the Targarni’s interest was focused on Goyad.
    A quarter of the way down the steps, Tarzan was able to see around the buildings. Most of the light came from a pair of massive stone bowls standing on plinths, etched in strange pictorial symbols. He could only just see the tongues of flames licking over the edges. The flames provided dramatic under-lighting to a thirty-foot-tall pair of coiling snakes looming over the bowls, carved out of stone, their mouths open, ready to strike and revealing black stone fangs. Their features were harsh and finely detailed, unlike the carvings near the entrance, which had been dulled by time and weather. The snake’s eyes seemed to sparkle with living malice.
    Tarzan’s gaze was dragged back down to the scene unfolding at the base of the snake’s mighty stone coils. Two of the human captives lay on a massive slab of stone—the female and the man who had been struck by Goyad. Where the third was, Tarzan could not see;