“Well?”
“I could bear to know how you got rid of the soldier so quicldy, back in the alley behind the tavern.”
“I do not think that matters,” Gesti whispered in his sibilant voice. “The guards are superstitious. And it’s easy to play on their weakness. Let that suffice!” The cold glazed eyes met Elak’s squarely, and a little warning note seemed to clang in his brain.
There was danger here. Yet danger had seldom given him pause. He said, “What will you pay?”
“A thousand golden pieces.”
“Fifty thousand cups of mead,” Lycon murmured sleepily. “Accept it, Elak. I’ll await you here.”
There was little affection in the glance Elak cast at his companion. “You’ll get none of it,” he promised. “Not a gold piece!”
He turned to Gesti. “What’s to be done for this reward?”
Gesti’s immobile face watched him cryptically. “Kill Zend.”
Elak said, “Kill — Zend? Zend? The Wizard of Atlantis?”
“Are you afraid?” Gesti asked tonelessly.
“I am,” Lycon said without lifting his head from his arms. “However, if Elak is not, he may slay Zend and I’ll wait here.”
Ignoring him, Elak said, “I’ve heard strange things of Zend. His powers are not human. Indeed, he’s not been seen in the streets of San-Mu for ten years. Men say he’s immortal.”
“Men — are fools.” And in Gesti’s voice there was a contempt that made Elak stare at him sharply. It was as though Gesti was commenting on some race alien to him. The gray-clad man went on hurriedly, as though sensing the trend of Elak’s thoughts. “We have driven a passage under Zend’s palace. We can break through at any time; that we shall do tonight. Two tasks I give you: kill Zend; shatter the red sphere.”
Elak said, “You’re cryptic. What red sphere?”
“It lies in the topmost minaret of his palace. His magic comes from it. There is rich loot in the palace, Elak — if that’s your name. So the little man called you.”
“Elak or dunce or robber of drunken men,” Lycon said, absently feeling the bosom of his tunic. “All alike. Call him by any of those names and you’ll be right. Where is my gold, Elak?”
But without waiting for an answer he slumped down in his chair, his eyes closing and his mouth dropping open as he snored. Presently he fell off the chair and rolled under the table, where he slumbered.
“What the devil can I do with him?” Elak asked. “I can’t take him with me. He’d”
“Leave him here,” Gesti said.
Elak’s cold eyes probed the other. “He’ll be safe?”
“Quite safe. None in San-Mu but our band knows of this underground way.”
“What band is that? “ Elak asked.
Gesti said nothing for a time. Then his soft voice whispered, “Need you know? A political group banded together to overthrow the king of San-Mu, and Zend, from whom he gets his power. Have you more — questions?”
“No.”
“Then follow.”
Gesti led Elak to one of the oaken doors; it swung open, and they moved forward up a winding passage. In the dark Elak stumbled over a step. He felt the cloth of Gesti’s garment touch his hand, and gripped it. In the blackness they ascended a staircase cut out of the rock.
Halfway up, Gesti paused. “I can go no further,” he whispered. “The way is straight. At the end of the stairway there is a trap-door of stone. Open it. You’ll be in Zend’s place. Here is a weapon for you.” He thrust a tube of cold metal into Elak’s hand. “Simply squeeze its sides, pointing the smaller end at Zend. You understand?”
Elak nodded, and, although Gesti could scarcely have seen the movement in the darkness, he whispered, “Good. Dagon guard you!”
He turned away; Elak heard the soft rush of his descent dying in the distance. He began to mount the stairs, wonderingly. Dagon — was Gesti a worshipper of the forbidden evil god of ocean? Poseidon, a benignant sea-god, was adored in marble temples all over the land, but the dark worship of Dagon had been banned for generations. There were tales of another race whose god Dagon was — a race that had not sprung from human or even earthly loins…
* * *
Gripping the odd weapon, Elak felt his way upward. At length his head banged painfully against stone, and, cursing softly, he felt about in the darkness. It was the trap-door of which Gesti had spoken. Two bolts slid back in well-oiled grooves. And the door lifted easily as Elak thrust his shoulders against it.
He clambered up in semi-darkness, finding himself in a small bare room through which light filtered from a narrow window-slit high in the wall. A mouse, squeaking fearfully, fled as he scrambled to his feet. Apparently the room was little used. Elak moved stealthily to the door.
It swung, open a little under his cautious hand. A corridor stretched before him, dimly lit by cold blue radiance that came from tiny gems set in the ceiling at intervals. Elak followed the upward slant of the passage; the red sphere Gesti had mentioned was in the topmost minaret. Up, then.
“Ishtar!” Elak breathed. “What wizardry’s this?”
In a niche in the wall Elak saw the head. The shock of it turned him cold with amazement. A bodiless head, set upright on a golden pedestal within a little alcove — its cheeks sunken, hair lank and disheveled — but eyes bright with incredible life! Those eyes watched him!
“Ishtar!” Elak breathed. “What wizardry’s this?”
He soon found out. The pallid lips of the horror writhed and twisted, and from them came a high skirling cry of warning.
“Zend! Zend! A stranger walks your—”
Elak’s rapier flew. There was scarcely any blood. He dragged the blade from the eyesocket, whispering prayers to all the gods and goddesses he could remember. The lean jaw dropped, and a blackened and swollen tongue lolled from between the teeth. A red, shrunken, eyelid dropped over the eye Elak had not pierced.
There was no sound save for Elak’s hastened breathing. He eyed the monstrous thing in the alcove, and then, confident that it was no longer a menace, lengthened his steps up the passage. Had Zend heard the warning of his sentinel? If so, danger lurked all about him.
A silver curtain slashed with a black pattern hung across the corridor. Elak parted it, and, watching, he froze in every muscle.
A dwarf, no more than four feet tall, with a disproportionately large head and a gray, wrinkled skin, was trotting briskly toward him. From the tales he had heard Elak imagined the dwarf to be Zend. Behind the wizard strode a half-naked giant, who carried over his shoulder the limp form of a girl. Elak spun about, realizing that he had delayed too long. Zend was parting the silver curtain as Elak raced back down the corridor.
At his side a black rectangle loomed — a passage he had overlooked, apparently, when he had passed it before. He sprang into its shielding darkness. When Zend passed he would strike down the wizard and take his chances with the giant. Remembering the smooth hard muscles that had rippled under the dead-white skin of the man, Elak was not so sure that his chances would be worth much. He realized now that the giant had seemed familiar.
Then he knew. Two days ago he had seen a man — a condemned criminal — beheaded in the temple of Poseidon. There could be no mistake. The giant was the same man, brought back to life by Zend’s evil necromancy!
“Ishtar!” Elak whispered, sweating. “I’d be better off in the hands of the guards.” How could he slay a man who was already dead?
Elak hesitated, his rapier half drawn. There was no use borrowing trouble. He would keep safely out of sight until Zend was separated from his ghastly servitor — and then it would be an easy matter to put six inches of steel through the wizard’s body. Elak was never one for taking unnecessary risks, as he had a wholesome regard for his hide. He heard a shuffling of feet and drew back within the side passage to let Zend pass. But the wizard turned suddenly and began to mount the steeply sloping corridor where Elak lurked. In Zend’s hand was a softly glowing gem that illuminate
d the passage, though not brightly.
Elak fled. The passage was steep and narrow, and it ended at last before a blank wall. Behind him a steady padding of feet grew louder in the distance. He felt around desperately in the dark. If there was a hidden spring in the walls, he failed to find it.
A grin lighted his face as he realized how narrow the passage was. If he could do it—
* * *
He placed his palms flat against the wall, and with his bare feet found an easy purchase on the opposite one. Face down, swiftly, with his muscles cracking under the strain, he walked up the wall until he was safely above the head of even the giant. There he stopped, sweating, and glanced down.
Only an enormously strong man could have done it, and if Elak had weighed a little more it would have been impossible. His shoulders and thighs ached as he strained to hold his position without moving. The trio were approaching. If they should glance up, Elak was ready to drop and use his blade, or the strange weapon Gesti had given him. But apparently they did not notice him, hidden as he was in the shadows of the high ceiling.
He caught a glimpse of the girl the giant carried. A luscious wench! But, of course, Zend would undoubtedly choose only the most attractive maidens for his necromancy and sorcery.
“If that dead-alive monster weren’t here,” he ruminated, “I’d be tempted to fall on Zend’s head. No doubt the girl would be grateful.”
She was, at the moment, unconscious. Long black lashes lay on cream-pale cheeks, and dark ringlets swayed as the giant lurched on. Zend’s hand fumbled out, touched the wall. The smooth surface of stone lifted and the gray dwarf pattered into the dimness beyond. The giant followed, and the door dropped again.
With a low curse of relief Elak swung noiselessly to the floor and rubbed his hands on his leather tunic. They were bleeding, and only the hardness of his soles had saved his feet from a similar fate. After a brief wait Elak fumbled in the darkness and found the concealed spring.
The door lifted, with a whispering rush of sound.
Elak found himself in a short corridor that ended in another black-slashed silver curtain. He moved forward, noticing with relief that the door remained open behind him.
Beyond the silver curtain was a room — huge, high-domed, with great open windows through which the chill night wind blew strongly. The room blazed with the coruscating brilliance of the glowing gems, which were set in walls and ceiling in bizarre, arabesque patterns. Through one window Elak saw the yellow globe of the moon, which was just rising. Three archways, curtained, broke the smooth expanse of the farther wall. The chamber itself, richly furnished with rugs and silks and ornaments, was empty of occupants. Elak noiselessly covered the distance to the archways and peered through the curtain of the first.
Blazing white light blinded him. He had a flashing, indistinct vision of tremendous forces, leashed, cyclopean, straining mightily to burst the bonds that held them. Yet actually he saw nothing — merely an empty room. But empty he knew that it was not! Power unimaginable surged from beyond the archway, shuddering through every atom of Elak’s body. Glittering steel walls reflected his startled face.
And on the floor, in the very center of the room, he saw a small mud-colored stone. That was all. Yet about the stone surged a tide of power that made Elak drop the curtain and back away, his eyes wide with fear. Very quickly he turned to the next curtain — peered apprehensively beyond it.
Here was a small room, cluttered with alembics, retorts, and other of Zend’s magical paraphernalia. The pallid giant stood silently in a corner. On a low table was stretched the girl, still unconscious. Above her hovered the gray dwarf, a crystal vial in one hand. He tilted it; a drop fell.
Elak heard Zend’s harsh voice.
“A new servant … a new soul to serve me. When her soul is freed, I shall send it to Antares. There is a planet there where I’ve heard much sorcery exists. Mayhap I can learn a few more secrets…”
Elak turned to the last alcove. He lifted the curtain, saw a steep stairway. From it rose-red light blazed down. He remembered Gesri’s words: “Shatter the red sphere! His magic comes from it.”
Good! He’d break the sphere first, and then, with no magic to protect him, Zend would be easy prey. With a lithe bound Elak began to mount the stairs. Behind him came a guttural cry.
“Eblis, Ishtar, and Poseidon!” Elak said hastily. “Protect me now!” He was at the top of the staircase, in a high-domed room through which moonlight crept from narrow windows. It was the room of the sphere.
Glowing, shining with lambent rose-red radiance, the great sphere lay in a silver cradle, metallic tubes and wires trailing from it to vanish into the walls. Half as tall as Elak’s body it was, its brilliance soft but hypnotically intense — and he stood for a moment motionless, staring.
* * *
Behind him feet clattered on the stair. He turned, saw the pallid giant lumbering up. A livid scar circled the dead-white neck. He had been right, then. This was the criminal he had seen executed — brought back to life by Zend’s necromancy. In the face of real danger Elak forgot the gods and drew his rapier. Prayers, he had found, would not halt a dagger’s blow or a strangler’s hands.
Without a sound the giant sprang for Elak, who dodged under the great clutching paws and sent his rapier’s point deep within the dead-white breast. It bent dangerously; he whipped it out just in time to save it from snapping, and it sang shrilly as it vibrated. Elak’s opponent seemed unhurt. Yet the rapier had pierced his heart. He bled not at all.
The battle was not a long one, and it ended at a window. The two men went reeling and swaying about the room, ripping wires and tubes from their places in the fury of their struggle. Abruptly the red light of the globe dimmed, went out. Simultaneously Elak felt the giant’s cold arms go about his waist.
Before they could tighten, he dropped. The moon peered in at a narrow window just beside him, and he flung himself desperately against the giant’s legs, wrenching with all his strength. The undead creature toppled.
He came down as a tree falls, without striving to break the force of the impact. His hands went out clutchingly for Elak’s throat. But Elak was shoving frantically at the white, cold, muscular body, forcing it out the narrow window. It overbalanced, toppled — and fell.
The giant made no outcry. After a moment a heavy thud was audible. Elak got up and recovered his rapier, loudly thanking Ishtar for his deliverance. “For,” he thought, “a little politeness costs nothing, and even though my own skill and not Ishtar’s hand saved me, one never knows.” Too, there were other dangers to face, and if the gods are capricious, the goddesses are certainly even more so.
A loud shriek from below made him go quickly down the stairway, rapier ready. Zend was running toward him, his gray face a mask of fear. The dwarf hesitated at sight of him, spun about as a low rumble of voices came from near by. At the foot of the stairway Elak waited.
From the passage by which Elak had entered the great room a horde of nightmare beings spewed. In their van came Gesti, gray garments flapping, white face immobile as ever. Behind him sheer horror squirmed and leaped and tumbled. With a shock of loathing Elak remembered the whispering voices he had heard in the underground cavern — and knew, now, what manner of creatures had spoken thus.
A race that had not sprung from human or even earthly loins.…
Their faces were hideous staring masks, fish-like in contour, with parrot-like beaks and great staring eyes covered with a filmy glaze. Their bodies were amorphous things, half solid and half gelatinous ooze, like the iridescent slime of jellyfish; writhing tentacles sprouted irregularly from the ghastly bodies of the things. They were the offspring of no sane universe, and they came in a blasphemous hissing rush across the room. The rapier stabbed out vainly and clattered to the stones as Elak went down. He struggled futilely for a moment, hearing the harsh, agonized shrieks of the wizard. Cold tentacles were all about him, blinding him in their constricting coils. Then suddenly the weight that h
eld him helpless was gone. His legs and arms, he discovered, were tightly bound with cords. He fought vainly to escape; then lay quietly.
Beside him, he saw, the wizard lay tightly trussed. The nightmare beings were moving in an orderly rush toward the room in which Elak had sensed the surges of tremendous power, where lay the little brown stone. They vanished beyond the curtain, and beside Elak and the wizard there remained only Gesti. He stood looking down at the two, his white face immobile.
“What treachery is this?” Elak asked with no great hopefulness. “Set me free and give me my gold.”
But Gesti merely said, “You won’t need it. You will die very soon.”
“Eh? Why—”
“Fresh human blood is needed. That’s why we didn’t kill you or Zend. We need your blood. We’ll be ready soon.”
An outbrust of sibilant whispers came from beyond the silver drape. Elak said unsteadily, “What manner of demons are those?”
The wizard gasped, “You ask him? Did you not know—”
Gesti lifted gloved hands and removed his face. Elak bit his lips to choke back a scream. Now he knew why Gesti’s face had seemed so immobile. It was a mask.
Behind it were the parrot-like beak and fish-like eyes Elak now knew all too well. The gray robes sloughed off; the gloves dropped from the limber tips of tentacles. From the horrible beak came the sibilant whisper of the monster:
“Now you know whom you served.”
The thing that had called itself Gesti turned and progressed — that was the only way to describe its method of moving — to the curtain behind which its fellows had vanished. It joined them. Zend was staring at Elak. “You did not know? You served them, and yet did not know?”
“By Ishtar, no!” Elak swore. “D’you think I’d have let those — those — what are they? What are they going to do?”
“Roll over here,” Zend commanded. “Maybe I can loosen your bonds.”
Elak obeyed, and the wizard’s fingers worked deftly.
“I doubt — no human hands tied these knots. But—”
The Book of Iod Page 9