Bride of Osiris

by Otis Adelbert Kline

  At the portico they paused a moment while Odd made known their intentions to the guard. An elderly-priestess came out in a few moments and escorted them through the door.

  The beauty and magnificence of the exterior of the building had given promise of a splendid interior, but Buell was hardly prepared for the dazzling glory of the huge auditorium in which he found himself. The vault of cerulean blue above his head formed the setting for thousands of tiny lights, each constantly appearing, disappearing and reappearing, as if a gigantic swarm of fireflies had been hovering there. Set in the gold-tinted walls were life-size paintings depicting the exploits of Isis as recorded in Egyptian mythology, showing her watering the crops of her worshipers, thus insuring them a bounteous harvest, and representing her as a giver of dreams, inflicter of diseases and restorer of health. As in the Temple of Re, statues of the lesser deities lined the walls. At the far end of the room, incense smoldered on an altar before a large golden throne set with precious stones and upholstered with blue velvet. On each side of this throne, huge statues, one of Anubis and the other of Horus, knelt as if in adoration or supplication.

  Buell surveyed the scene with wonder and admiration. The elderly priestess, with a backward glance in his direction, left them in the middle of the floor.

  “Look well on these splendors,” admonished Odd. “You are being accorded a special privilege. Throughout the year no man is allowed to enter this temple or even the temple grounds under pain of death, at other than stated hours on the regular days of worship, except the High One. The N, however, is permitted a last look at its glories before entering the inner Karneter. The Odd, being his constant companion, must accompany him.”

  BUELL scarcely heard the rumbling voice, so engrossed was he by the sight of a figure that had come through a doorway at his right, the slight, shapely figure of a girl encased in a clinging filmy garment of light blue gossamer silk that harmonized with the blue of her eyes. The band of blue velvet that bound her fluffy hair held a glittering star in place above her forehead. She wore belt, sandals, breastplates and armlets of burnished gold. It was not these things, however, that held Buell’s attention as lie watched her coming toward him with her pudgy companion, a fat priestess who read aloud to her from a papyrus scroll, but the walk and appearance of the girl herself. Scarcely crediting the evidence of his senses, he waited until she drew closer. Then he knew!

  “Doris!” he cried.

  She turned, then with a little gasp of recognition ran into his arms.

  “I knew you would come, Alan,” she murmured, looking up with brimming eyes. “I have been so frightened and so——”

  There was a bellowing roar from Odd.

  “What sacrilege is this?”

  Alan was jerked backward with such violence that he lost his balance and fell to the floor at the feet of the giant.

  Buell saw red. Hot flames of anger scorched every fiber of his being as he heard Odd muttering something about the sacred person of Isis, Bride of Osiris. His hands encountered a slack coil of the heavy chain that bound him to the monster. Acting more through instinct than reason, he gathered it in both hands, leaped to his feet, and swung for the face of the giant. At the first blow Odd toppled like a great oak cut nearly through. As Buell swung the heavy chain once more, he fell with a crash.

  There was a squeal of alarm and rage. Then someone leaped upon Buell’s back, clawing at his face. It was the fat priestess.

  Shaking her off, he dived for the belt pouch of the prostrate Odd, took a bunch of keys therefrom and rapidly tested them on the padlock that held the chain about his waist. At last he found the right one, turned the lock, and leaped free of his shackles.

  Meanwhile the squealing priestess had alarmed the guards at the main door. Two of them came running toward him.

  “Oh, Alan, they will kill you!” Doris Lee’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “Does this door lead into the garden?” he asked.

  “Yes, but it is guarded.”

  “Come. It’s our only chance. If we can win through to the wall I think I can get you out of here.”

  As they hurried through the narrow side entrance, their pursuers, now only a hundred feet behind them, set up a clamor that Buell felt sure would alarm the outer guards.

  He was right. A giantess stood with feet braced at the doorway, her spear-point barring his progress. Doris screamed when he ran forward as if to throw himself on the keen point. Suddenly, just as he seemed about to be impaled, he swerved to one side, ran forward again, and dived. It was a brilliant flying tackle, the equal of any he had ever made in his football days. The giantess dropped her spear, clutched wildly at the doorway for support, and missing it, toppled and fell down the steps. Releasing his hold, Buell caught up the long spear, and taking Doris’ hand, raced off with her through the shrubbery.

  They followed a winding path for some distance unmolested. Then a garden slave, sensing the meaning of the uproar behind them, barred their progress for a moment. Buell presented his spear and the slave fled, panic-stricken. He smiled grimly as they ran forward again.

  “I wouldn’t have used it on a woman,” he said, “but it sure had the desired effect. Hello! Here’s the wall. We’ll be out of here now in a jiffy.”

  The wall was fully fifteen feet in height, and made more formidable by a row of down-curved spikes that projected near the top. A low hedge about three feet wide and composed of exceedingly thorny shrubs further added to its inaccessibility.

  Placing his foot on the spear-shaft just behind” the head, Buell snapped off the keen point. Then, pausing but a moment to calculate the distance, he ran forward, planted the butt of the shaft on the ground, and vaulted for the summit. Alighting on the edge of the wall rather than the top, for the pole was a trifle shorter than the wall, he endeavored to twist his body over. He half succeeded in this, but the smooth top offered no hand-hold, and he fell back on the curved spikes. The fact that they were curved downward saved him from injury, and the spikes themselves saved him from falling among the thorny bushes below.

  Quickly clambering to the top of the wall, he held the spear-shaft, which still leaned against the wall between two of the spikes, down to Doris.

  “Take hold of this,” he said, “and I’ll pull you up.”

  “B-but the spikes,” she quavered, “and those thorny bushes. I might fall.”

  “It is the only way. Be brave.”

  She came forward and took hold of the shaft. Leaning far out, he swung her clear of the bushes. Then, just as he had drawn her half-way up the wall, a giantess darted from the shrubbery behind and seized her around the waist, pulling her from the shaft. Buell swung it back for a blow at her captor, when two huge hands seized his ankles from behind, tipping him over backward.

  Two Amazonian guards, laughing exultantly, handed him down the human ladder which they had formed against the wall with the aid of seven of their companions.

  CHAPTER 13

  RAFFERTY LIMBERS HIS JOINTS

  ALONE in the narrow, winding passageway, Dan Rafferty moved forward cautiously. Presently the rays from his pocket flashlight revealed the wrinkled, disfigured countenance of the prisoner who had begged for a word with him.

  “Yez’ll have to be brief,” he said. “Me matey will be lookin’ for me in a few minutes, and I don’t want to be pinched just for the pleasure av listenin’ to your blarney.”

  The shackled man stared up at him with a crafty look in his single, beady eye. The other—the one that had been gouged out—was closed in a ghastly wink.

  “You wish to get out of Karneter, do you not?” he asked.

  “Sure, and I would like nothin’ better, provided two or three very good friends of mine could be included in the party.”

  “Who are these friends?”

  “Alan Buell, now called the Osiris N, whativver that may be, and who I understand is to be kilt at the Festival of Re. Also his girl, Doris Lee. They say she’s goin’ to become Isis and marry that Hash
ish gink. Likewise a girl named Delra, who works in the Temple of Re—that is providin’ she wants to go. I’ve made up me mind to ask her the first chance I get.”

  The prisoner stood suddenly erect. There was a quiet dignity in his manner as he replied.

  “You are fortunate in having come to me, for I am the only man in Karneter who can and will help you, and that for a trifling service. Behold me, Alcibar, once High Priest of Re, and second in command in Karneter, reduced to this.” For a moment his voice choked with emotion. Then he continued: “Wealth, luxury, pomp, position—all were mine.

  Then came the lies, foul slanderous lies, whispered in the ear of the High One by a man I had loved as a brother—a man I had advanced to the position next to mine. I was accused of plotting to overthrow Mezzar Hashin and establish myself as the Osiris. There was not a thread of truth in the accusations, but the High One—the Fiendish One, as I now know him to be—believed them, or pretended to do so. I was tortured, mutilated, maimed, but through it all I maintained my innocence. Then I was committed to this, the punishment of the lowest, the most debased criminals in Karneter. And Sethral, he who had betrayed my friendship, was made High Priest of Re in my stead.”

  “Tough luck,” commented Rafferty, “but get to the point. What do yez want me to do? Assassinate them two guys? And what do I get in return?”

  “You have tools in that bag that will cut through this chain. Release me and I pledge you my word that I will get you and your friends out of Karneter. As for Sethral and Hashin, think you that I would permit anyone to cheat me of my vengeance? Both shall die by my hand and mine alone.”

  “Suits me,” replied Dan, “if you’re handin’ me the straight dope, although I’d like wan good sock at that Hashin guy mesilf. Anyhow I’m willin’ to take a chance. A slim chance is better than none at all.”

  He laid his tool kit on the floor and unbuckled the flap. The largest pair of nippers he’had failed to more than nick the chain.

  “Have to file it,” he said. He straightened up suddenly, listening. “The divvil. No time for that either. I hear somebody comin’.”

  “Leave the file with me,” whispered Alcibar as the sound of voices and footsteps grew louder. “You can say you lost it if you are questioned. I’ll find a way to communicate with you as soon as I am free.”

  “All right, here goes.”

  Rafferty handed him the file, buckled the flap of his tool kit, and hurried off. Arriving at the six corners he saw lights and heard voices in the main passageway.

  “Seboul,” he called.

  “Is that you, Baku?”

  Two men were coming toward him: Seboul and one of the dungeon guards.

  “Sure it’s me. Where the divvil did yez go?”

  “I missed you at the stairway. Then I searched, with the assistance of the guard.”

  “Guess I got mixed up,” said Dan. “I walked past a lot of skeletons and a few corpses. Then, seein’ you weren’t wid me, I turned around and came back here.”

  “You did the right thing. We will go up now. Better keep close to me so we won’t be separated again.”

  They made their way up the stairways and through the various passageways into the rear of the temple without further incident. They were met by the sour-faced priest who had guided them.

  “You did a poor job on the image of Isis this morning,” he grumbled. “None of the lights will work now. Why doesn’t the Department send men who understand their business?”

  “I had it workin’ this morning,” replied Rafferty. “Mebby somewan has jimmed up the works. Let’s look it over, Seboul. You test the light bulbs and I’ll check up on the switches.”

  “See that it works this time,” warned the priest. “If it doesn’t I’ll report you to the Department.”

  “Don’t worry, Cap,” responded Dan. “When I get through wid it it’ll work.”

  The surly priest left, muttering to himself, and the two men set to work.

  As before, Dan investigated the switches and wires behind the image while Seboul tested the lights in front. The identical short that he had repaired that morning? seemed to be causing the trouble. A spark had apparently burned through the coating of tape he had applied.

  RAFFERTY spread the wires farther apart and applied a double thick coating. He was tightening the last screw in the wall plate when he heard a door open softly behind him. Quickly turning, he beheld Delra the vestal virgin. She was carrying the narrow, jewel-incrusted vase from which she had poured incense on the altar that morning.

  Scarcely had she stepped through the doorway when a man, dressed in the uniform of a temple guard, came up behind her and seized her roughly by the arm.

  “One minute, elusive one,” he said. “Haven’t you played with me long enough? I saved you from the unwelcome attentions of Jethlo, yet you spurn me. What further task would you have me perform that I may win your favor?”

  Attempting to pull away, but failing in this, the girl looked scornfully up at him.

  “Save me from your own attentions, Sessed,” she replied. “Release me now, or I shall scream.”

  The fellow laughed. Suddenly he clapped his huge hand over her mouth. The vase dropped to the floor and shattered, its fragments mingling with the finely powdered incense.

  “Now scream—yell all you want to.”

  The presence of Dan Rafferty had not been noted by either the girl or man. Stepping quietly up to Sessed, Rafferty tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Come, now. Behave like a gintleman and let go av the little lady.” Sessed regarded him with a sneer.

  “Attend to your own affairs, slave,” he retorted.

  “Faith, I’ll attend to you first.”

  Rafferty swung straight for the point of the man’s jaw. Had the blow landed it would undoubtedly have settled the dispute, but Sessed was a trained fighter. He leaped back just in time to avoid the heavy fist of the Irishman. Then he whipped out his simitar.

  “Put down that meat-ax and fight like a man,” jeered Rafferty.

  The girl was tugging at his arm.

  “Run,” she cried. “Escape before it is too late.”

  The burly face of Sessed was twisted in a sneer.

  “I do not fight with slaves,” he said. “I merely kill them like mad dogs when they require killing. Out of the way, girl.”

  He advanced threateningly, although Delra was still between them.

  “Hiding behind a woman will not avail you. You are doomed.”

  “Who’s hidin’ behind a woman?” Rafferty pushed Delra gently to one side. “Cut ahead, you butcher.”

  Sessed raised his simitar. It was then that Rafferty leaped. Seizing the wrist of his assailant with his left hand he pushed it back and downward, locking his right arm about the fellow’s head at the same time.

  The heavy weapon clattered to the floor, but Sessed was far from beaten. With a grunt of pain he sank his teeth into Rafferty’s shoulder. It was not until then that the Irishman exerted his full strength.

  “Bite like the damned dog yez are,” he said. “I’ll soon put a stop to it.”

  A swift downward push of the twisted arm and it snapped—then hung limp and useless. The grip of the guard’s jaws relaxed, and he attempted to back away. He was assisted in this by a swift uppercut that lifted him clear off the floor, then sent him crashing into a corner, where he lay very still.

  Glowering down at his assailant, Dan felt a soft hand on his arm. The girl was looking up at him with an expression in which were mingled admiration and fear.

  “You had best go at once,” she said. “Someone may come at any moment. If you are discovered your death will be certain and horrible.” Dan placed his huge hand over the small one on his arm.

  “And would that make any difference to yez?”

  “I wouldn’t want to see a fellow countryman suffer.”

  “A fellow countryman? Begorry, yez don’t mane to tell me——?”

  “That I’m Irish? Assuredly. I wo
rked for a wealthy woman who became a follower of Mezzar Hashin. After attending his meetings for a year or so she sold all her property and came to Karneter, not knowing where or what Karneter was. I foolishly listened to her story of a hidden paradise and came with her. She died, poor soul, died of grief when she realized what she had done. At her death I was placed here. I understand that the period of service is one year. At the end of that time I become the property of Mezzar Hashin, or if he does not want me, one of his nobles. Yes, I’m Irish. My name is Mary Mooney. My father, Pat Mooney, was a patrolman on the north side.”

  “Pat Mooney! I know him well. And you’re his daughter! Delra—Mary darlint! There’s a chance that I can find a way out av here—I and me friends. I love you, acushla.” His arms went about the slender figure. “Will yez come wid me, Mary Mooney, if I can find a wav out?” “Will I come? Oh, Dan!” The thrilling rapture of her kiss told him of her consent a thousand times more agreeably than mere words.

  “Seize him, men!”

  Dan’s heart skipped a beat at this sudden interruption. He turned to face a wall of sharp-pointed spears in the hands of a dozen stalwart temple guards. It was obvious that resistance was useless, so he held out his wrists for the manacles which two men brought forward.

  The sour-faced priest who had been his guide some time before was addressing another, evidently of considerable importance and rank, to judge from the richness of the decorations on his yellow robes and his high, jewel-encrusted head-dress, in the center of which blazed a burnished golden disk.

  “I saw him fighting with Sessed, most holy Sethral,” the informer was saying. “The girl was standing near by.”

  So this was Sethral, High Priest of Re. He had a thin, ratlike face and huge, projecting upper teeth that would not stay within the confines of his receding lips. Dan saw him bend over the fallen guard.

  “It seems that Sessed has been badly used,” he said. Then, after a moment’s examination. “Quite brutally used, in fact. He is dead.”

  “Is he to be taken immediately before the High One?” The sour-faced informer was speaking again.