The Curious Quests of Brigadier Ffellowes

by Sterling E. Lanier

  "But I had been given a charge, and I knew I could not yield to impulse. As the drumming rose in volume, I stole a glance over my shoulder to the tunnel at my back. It was well I did.

  "Something as pale as white bone was creeping up on me, indistinct in the fire's murky light I caught a glimpse of long thin arms, the fingers ending in huge claws, a face like a starved baboon's skull, all bone and yellowed fangs, with two eyes of opaque flame, pupilless and blinking. That I had turned at the last moment was luck, if anything was due to luck on that mad night I think even the dim glow of the evil fire slowed the monster down, for whatever cavern it had stolen from must have been utterly without light.

  "As it snarled hideously and rose from a crouch, I turned and lunged straight at that countenance of hell, between the orbs of pale phosphorescence it used for eyes.

  "The blade bent, as the good steel struck something hard, and a shock ran up my stiffened arm to my shoulder. Even as I struck, I heard the clash of steel behind me and knew that James fought his enemy even as I.

  "The foulness in front of me screamed, a high whining note which hurt my eardrums, and drew back in a scuttling lope, deeper into the dark of the tunnel. I thought I had struck its skull and knew that I had hurt but not killed it. I, too, drew back to the entrance of the huge cavern. I could not win a fight with that lurker in the shadows without light of my own; protecting James' back came first in any case.

  "The thing screamed again and once more came at me in that queer scrabbling way, low to the ground. I had backed almost out of the tunnel now, and the thud-thud of the devilish drums rang in my ears, mixed with the clatter of blows as ax met sword. Now, I had room for a cut and I used it.

  "Once more, that unclean head came into the light. The spiderlike arms covered with pallid hairs groped for me. The fangs slavered and it crouched for a spring.

  "I cut down and hard, the sweep beginning over my shoulder, and my aim was true. This sword was no courtier's rapier, but the long heavy blade of a soldier, and it bit into that bone, if bone it was, high on that unnatural head, and further yet, with a crunch I could feel down to my toes!

  "For the last time I heard that eldritch cry, and as my blade came back to guard, stained with foul blood, the battle ended. Limping and swaying, the thing lurched back up the slope, clutching its mangled skull and wailing hideously, and vanished into the dark above. If I had not given it a death wound, then I had at least removed it from the board. It would make no more mischief that night.

  "The ring of arms renewed made me wheel and look below. Here the war still raged and it was not going well. The dark man in the archaic dress was untouched and handling his ax and shield like a master as he circled and struck through the veils of smoke and the uncertain gleam of the fire. James was bleeding from a wound high on one shoulder, though his face was still calm and serene. But his sword was another matter. As he swerved in my direction, I saw that the broad blade was sorely battered, with many notches gouged into the edge. Even as I watched, he struck a terrible blow, which his brother took full on the blade of that grim ax. The weapons clashed together and neither gave an inch. But when James fell back into a guard position, holding the sword in both hands, point up. I saw a fresh notch, while Lionel's ax was untouched. The black metal of ax and shield had some awful power in them, perhaps a trick of forging long gone from the world.

  "And he sensed his advantage. Over the rising, battering cry of that damned drum, he called out. 'This ax and shield were made with blood and torment under the hills, brother. Long the owner bargained for them and none could prevail against them! Yield now and I may show mercy!'

  " 'One weapon prevailed against them!' came the deep-throated answer. 'They were not victor at the last!'

  "Circling again, Lord Lionel sneered. 'Seek in the Hesperides for that weapon, dear brother. It is gone long ages from the earth, as well you know!'

  "The drum beat higher still, and the Earl's eyes blazed with blue fury. Lifting high his immense sword, he fell upon his brother's shorter shape and with a series of battering blows began to drive him about the cavern, from one side of the fire to the other. And this was his undoing.

  "As Lionel retreated, giving ground but protecting himself beautifully, James slipped and with a tremendous stroke drove his sword down on the stone top of that forgotten tomb. There was a rending crack and three things happened. The sword shattered, close to the cross hilt. The slab of midnight stone also cracked in two, straight across the top, and the drum suddenly ceased. Lionel leapt back, confronting his defenseless enemy in triumph, and, shaking the ax, howled something in that unknown language.

  "And the sound of the sea outside on the rocks burst into a shrieking bellow such as I have never heard even in the worst of Pacific typhoons. There was another crash, like thunder, but far harder, and then yet another. High on one wall of the cavern, across the tomb, there appeared a great crack. For an instant, light came through it and a great burst of spray. Another horrendous crash shook the room and the gap doubled in size. A gout of storm-tossed sea poured in with this blow and with it came something else."

  Ffellowes looked around at all of us before he continued speaking, but we were as silent as the grave. The library fire had long since gone out, and we sat, intent, lit only by a small lamp in a corner of the bay.

  "It was long and glittered," he said at length. "I could not really undertake to say what it was, even to this day. James stooped, groping on the floor, now inches deep. The next wave poured down through the gap, and the fire spat and went out. Only dim moonlight and that only at intervals now lit the vault.

  "When I could see again, James was advancing on his brother, and high above his head gleamed something which caught the light with a blue flame.

  "The light dimmed again, and Lionel screamed. There was another tremendous crash, but this time it appeared to come from inside the cave.

  "For a second there was silence, save for the wind and the water, which was now sloshing about my ankles. The next surge broke through the shattered wall of the place, and as it did, in the dim light something glittering flashed through it and vanished into the wild night outside.

  " 'James,' I called uncertainly, 'are you all right?' I could see nothing and hear nothing but the elements pounding on and through the rock. The moon must have been behind a cloud. Suddenly his voice was in my ear, his huge hand under my elbow. 'Quick,' he shouted. 'We must run for it. The cliff is falling! Let me help you!'

  "We ran. My God, how we ran. James must have been exhausted, but he was supporting me and wouldn't let go either. Before we reached the first lantern, rock was falling from the tunnel roof, and vast grindings were echoing down its length. I looked back as we passed and already the light was gone in a shower of stone and sand. Ahead of us, the next lamp gleamed faintly in the gloom, but rock was already crashing down between us and its flicker. The surging water would have caught us, I'm sure, had not the tunnel sloped up ever so gently, but I could hear that raging in the rear as well.

  "Tripping and stumbling, we passed the second light. The groaning of the rocks was really something now, and cracks began to appear in the tunnel's floor. We had to vault a few but somehow always managed to keep staggering on.

  "The next light was close now. As we passed it, a boulder the size of my head crashed down just behind us. An idea full of terror crossed my mind. Would we be able to see the tunnel entrance, the gap in its roof, should the moon not be shining? As it turned out we couldn't, but it didn't matter.

  "I simply ran into the ladder, almost knocking my addled brains out. James made me go first, and I didn't argue. You know, I still had the Ferrara sword in one hand; dumb stubbornness, I guess, but I carried it out of that hellhole and later put it back on the wall myself.

  "As I climbed out, the moon came out again and flooded the landscape with pale light. But the groaning and cracking in the earth hadn't halted for a minute, and I was damned glad to see my friend's head appear at the top of the ladde
r. His face was pale and his eyes were half shut. It was I who grabbed him this time and hauled away until he was out of the hole. I got one arm under his shoulder and we lurched off away from the castle toward the east. One moment we were on the slippery rock of the point, the next we were on soft turf, and I never felt gladder of common dirt in my life.

  " 'Go on,' he gasped. 'We are not safe yet I know!'

  "Up the slope we went, more at a crawl than a walk, I may say, until neither one of us could go a step further, and we simply collapsed into the moist verdure of the hills.

  "Behind us, the grandfather of all breaking noises cut loose and we sat up and stared. The whole great finger of stone on which the castle sat was separating from the land!

  "Slowly, inexorably in the moonlight, the cliff leaned out and away. There were rending and screeching noises deep down in the earth, and even where we crouched, the ground shook as though with an earthquake.

  "James stood up, and that stern look of majesty was never clearer in the moonlight. 'Accursed be thy stones forever!' he shouted over the shattering noise of the cliff fall.

  'Lie in the sea bottom until the end of time and never trouble the world again!' As he spoke the whole promontory point, fortress and all, vanished, and a splash roared up like some vast water spout and left us drenched. When the water had left our eyes, a ragged cliff edge ran some dozen yards away from us. Beyond this there was ... nothing.

  " 'So passes Caer Dhub,' said James in a strange voice. 'So passes the last of an evil lost in time. And I too pass, yet I will ...' He never finished telling me what he would do because he had fainted. I was nigh on doing so myself, being exhausted as well as dripping wet. But someone had to get back to Avalon House, or else we would both die of exposure.

  "I covered him with my jacket and in my soaked, boiled shirt, or the remnants of one, began to stumble over the faint trace Lionel's people had left on the slope. I don't know how long I had been putting one foot down after the other when I saw lights ahead and heard voices. I called out in a croak like that of an asthmatic frog and they heard me. I remember hands holding me up, but nothing more. Apparently I managed to tell them about James before I passed out, but I remember none of it, not until I woke up in my own bedroom at Avalon.

  "I lost a whole day there, I later discovered. They found us at about four a.m., and I woke to an afternoon sun going down two days after that! That's what I call needing a rest, eh?

  "Well, I got myself up and dressed and wandered downstairs. And here are James and Isobel having tea! You would have thought I'd slipped away five minutes earlier to visit the w.c. With my head full of the last time I had seen James, I could hardly believe my own eyes!

  "Of course they leapt up, James spilling his tea in the process, and fell on my neck. Isobel, I was glad to note, looked ten years younger already, her eyes shining and her cheeks with some at least of the old bloom.

  "But James! Here was the man I had left three-quarters dead on a cliff after the damndest struggle in my memory, beaming at me in his old tongue-tied way, trying to get out something that made sense in terms of speech!

  " 'Can't thank you enough, old chap. I mean, dash it, you've been a trump to help us out this way! The lads on the place tell me you pulled me out of that damned landslide, the one that got old Lionel in the bravest way. I say, really, it was awfully decent of you. I can hardly recall a thing; must have been hit by a rock or something, what?' I was speechless.

  "Even the old familiar voice was back, and the deep sonorous tones I had heard on that fatal night were gone forever. The clear boy's gaze which met mine was as untouched by trouble as a three-year-old's. Whatever had ruled my friend on that cliff and in that vault had left forever. From appearance, he might never have done anything rougher than a day's guard mount in front of Buck House.

  "As I tried to think of something to say, a discreet cough came from the door. I looked up and there met Traheal's steady eyes. 'Very nice to see you up and about, Captain, speaking for myself and the staff. A very gallant thing you did, sir, saving his lordship like that. We all regret that poor Lord Lionel was lost in that tragic fashion, of course. No doubt he was trying to save them poor helpless men of his down below.'

  " 'Mmh, well thank you, Traheal,' I said. So this was to be the pattern was it? 'I suppose, James, they were all down below? No hope of rescue? This awful weather of late, no doubt, loosened the cliff, eh?' No one can say I can't pick up a cue! I went on. 'Sorry as the devil about your brother. Hardly knew him, of course. Still wish to express regrets and all that.'

  "But now the ball had moved to another court. It was Isobel who fixed her gaze on me.

  " 'Such a pity. Lionel was a very peculiar man, there's no denying it, but he was family. I've always said that all this digging about in odd places must make one morbid. I understand they often use dynamite or some awful explosive in these excavations. They must have been careless, that's all.' She paused, her blue orbs politely holding mine. 'At least, that's what the police think, isn't it, James?'

  " 'Ah, well, yes, I expect so,' mumbled her spouse. He turned to me, as if in appeal. 'You know, Donald, I honestly couldn't stand him, I mean frankly, but I do feel bad about all this. I should never have let him dig down there. The whole cliff must have been as rotten as cheese.' He sighed. 'At least that bloody old castle is gone with the slip up there, and that's a blessing.' He looked thoughtful, then turned to me again. 'Isobel thinks I must have had a premonition or something the other night when we rushed out there. I'll be blowed if I can recall it, but that's what she says and she's usually right about these things. But, I'll say this. Ever since I was a kid, I've had that old pile of slag on my mind, sort of hanging over me, what? I used to go miles to even avoid looking at it. At least that's gone for good, eh, my dear?'

  " 'Yes,' she replied very softly, 'that's gone for good. It's all gone and it won't be back. Why even that most unpleasant smell has left the cellars. And the weather is perfect again.' Cornflower-blue fixed me with the same level gaze."

  Ffellowes paused and we all drew a long breath. He lit a cigar and I leaned back in my chair for the first time in half an hour. But another figure bounced up across from me. It was this guy Simmons, and if the signs were right, he was mad as hell.

  "General Ffellowes!" he exploded. "I have never heard in my life a more preposterous farrago of fables! Do you expect me to believe this absolute tissue of fabrications? Are we all expected to believe that this monstrous mélange of Tennyson, Geoffrey of Monmouth and Malory happened to you? In person?" He turned on his heel. "I believe, sir, that you have done your best to ridicule me, to make me a figure of fun for some obscure purpose of your own! This piece of senseless vulgarity is beyond belief! I shall never set foot in this institution again! Never!" He stormed out, leaving the rest of us flabbergasted.

  "Well, for Pete's sake," said someone. "Who was that nut, anyway? And why did he blow up like that? I sure hope he keeps his word about not coming back!"

  "I don't get it," remarked Bryce. "He was the one who brought up ghost stories in the first place. Brigadier, that's one of the best stories I ever heard, and if you say it happened, it happened, at least in my book. But what got that character so stirred up? Any ideas?"

  "Well," said Ffellowes, "yes, I rather think I do. His name is Simmons. I have been hearing for the past year or so about one Professor Elwyn Simmons at Columbia or somewhere who is about to release the definitive work on the psychosis of witchcraft. It's supposed to be the latest word in debunking any belief in things nonmaterial, you know." He pulled on his cigar.

  Bryce chuckled. "No wonder he got steamed up. Think he'll revise the book, sir?"

  "I doubt it," said Ffellowes, "but I wish he'd stayed for the list of my friend's names. Like many very old families, the heir always gets handed a bundle."

  "Such as?" I cut in.

  "In James' case, aside from James, of course, he drew the following: Arthur, Geraint, Percival, Bedivere and Tristram." The rud
dy face smiled at us.

  For once my brain worked and back came a school English class on poetry. "And Lionel had only one initial, which might just have been M, right?" I asked.

  "You have just won the coconut, as we say in Merry England," said the brigadier.

  -

  AND THE VOICE OF THE TURTLE ...

  We had a scientist at the club on this particular evening. One of the members had brought him as a guest, and he joined us after dinner in the library. He was a museum biologist, from the American Museum of Natural History, I think, but it may have been the Smithsonian. He had a beard, but a neat one, and was civilized in all ways. I forget his name, but he was a reptile expert, a herpetologist, and he was one of those men who are not really happy unless wading in a tropical marsh somewhere, up to the neck in mud and malaria. He spoke with great enthusiasm of his last trip, to some appalling swamp in West Africa, where he had found out that the local crocodiles dug holes rather than building nest mounds, as did some close relatives elsewhere. I never fully grasped the exact importance of this discovery, but it obviously meant a lot to him. He told the story well, too, and could laugh at himself, over his difficulties with the local people, who thought all crocodiles ought to be killed on sight. They could never grasp what he was trying to do, that is, in simply watching them dig nests. A very interesting fellow, and the talk was only marred by Mason Williams commenting loudly "that it was a relief to hear from a real expert for a change and not have to listen to more of Ffellowes' baloney!"