Astounding Science Fiction Stories Vol 1

by Anthology

  "Ho-ho, ho-ho!" Her laughter roared out, hungry and hollow as the surf around the island. Slowly, she shuffled closer. "So my dinner comes walking in to greet me, ho, ho, ho! Welcome, sweet flesh, welcome, good marrow-filled bones, come in and be warmed."

  "Why, thank you, good mother." Cappen shucked his cloak and grinning at her through the smoke. He felt his clothes steaming already. "I love you too."

  Over her shoulder, he suddenly saw the girl. She was huddled in a corner, wrapped in fear, but the eyes that watched him were as blue as the skies over Caronne. The ragged dress did not hide the gentle curves of her body, nor did the tear-streaked grime spoil the lilt of her face. "Why, 'tis springtime in here," cried Cappen, "and Primavera herself is strewing flowers of love."

  "What are you talking about, crazy man?" rumbled the troll-wife. She turned to the girl. "Heap the fire, Hildigund, and set up the roasting spit. Tonight I feast!"

  "Truly I see heaven in female form before me," said Cappen.

  The troll scratched her misshapen head.

  "You must surely be from far away, moonstruck man," she said.

  "Aye, from golden Croy am I wandered, drawn over dolorous seas and empty wild lands by the fame of loveliness waiting here; and now that I have seen you, my life is full." Cappen was looking at the girl as he spoke, but he hoped the troll might take it as aimed her way.

  "It will be fuller," grinned the monster. "Stuffed with hot coals while yet you live." She glanced back at the girl. "What, are you not working yet, you lazy tub of lard? Set up the spit, I said!"

  The girl shuddered back against a heap of wood. "No," she whispered. "I cannot--not ... not for a man."

  "Can and will, my girl," said the troll, picking up a bone to throw at her. The girl shrieked a little.

  "No, no, sweet mother. I would not be so ungallant as to have beauty toil for me." Cappen plucked at the troll's filthy dress. "It is not meet--in two senses. I only came to beg a little fire; yet will I bear away a greater fire within my heart."

  "Fire in your guts, you mean! No man ever left me save as picked bones."

  Cappen thought he heard a worried note in the animal growl. "Shall we have music for the feast?" he asked mildly. He unslung the case of his harp and took it out.

  The troll-wife waved her fists in the air and danced with rage. "Are you mad? I tell you, you are going to be eaten!"

  The minstrel plucked a string on his harp. "This wet air has played the devil with her tone," he murmured sadly.

  The troll-wife roared wordlessly and lunged at him. Hildigund covered her eyes. Cappen tuned his harp. A foot from his throat, the claws stopped.

  "Pray do not excite yourself, mother," said the bard. "I carry silver, you know."

  "What is that to me? If you think you have a charm which will turn me, know that there is none. I've no fear of your metal!"

  Cappen threw back his head and sang:

  "_A lovely lady full oft lies. The light that lies within her eyes And lies and lies, in no surprise. All her unkindness can devise To trouble hearts that seek the prize Which is herself, are angel lies--_"

  "_Aaaarrrgh!_" It was like thunder drowning him out. The troll-wife turned and went on all fours and poked up the fire with her nose.

  Cappen stepped softly around her and touched the girl. She looked up with a little whimper.

  "You are Svearek's only daughter, are you not?" he whispered.

  "Aye--" She bowed her head, a strengthless despair weighting it down. "The troll stole me away three winters agone. It has tickled her to have a princess for slave--but soon I will roast on her spit, even as ye, brave man--"

  "Ridiculous. So fair a lady is meant for another kind of, um, never mind! Has she treated you very ill?"

  "She beats me now and again--and I have been so lonely, naught here at all save the troll-wife and I--" The small work-roughened hands clutched desperately at his waist, and she buried her face against his breast.

  "Can ye save us?" she gasped. "I fear 'tis for naught ye ventured yer life, bravest of men. I fear we'll soon both sputter on the coals."

  Cappen said nothing. If she wanted to think he had come especially to rescue her, he would not be so ungallant to tell her otherwise.

  The troll-wife's mouth gashed in a grin as she walked through the fire to him. "There is a price," she said. "If you cannot tell me three things about myself which are true beyond disproving, not courage nor amulet nor the gods themselves may avail to keep that red head on your shoulders."

  Cappen clapped a hand to his sword. "Why, gladly," he said; this was a rule of magic he had learned long ago, that three truths were the needful armor to make any guardian charm work. "Imprimis, yours is the ugliest nose I ever saw poking up a fire. Secundus, I was never in a house I cared less to guest at. Tertius, ever among trolls you are little liked, being one of the worst."

  Hildigund moaned with terror as the monster swelled in rage. But there was no movement. Only the leaping flames and the eddying smoke stirred.

  Cappen's voice rang out, coldly: "Now the king lies on the sea, frozen and wet, and I am come to fetch a brand for his fire. And I had best also see his daughter home."

  The troll shook her head, suddenly chuckling. "No. The brand you may have, just to get you out of this cave, foulness; but the woman is in my thrall until a man sleeps with her--here--for a night. And if he does, I may have him to break my fast in the morning!"

  Cappen yawned mightily. "Thank you, mother. Your offer of a bed is most welcome to these tired bones, and I accept gratefully."

  "You will die tomorrow!" she raved. The ground shook under the huge weight of her as she stamped. "Because of the three truths, I must let you go tonight; but tomorrow I may do what I will!"

  "Forget not my little friend, mother," said Cappen, and touched the cord of the amulet.

  "I tell you, silver has no use against me--"

  Cappen sprawled on the floor and rippled fingers across his harp. "_A lovely lady full oft lies--_"

  The troll-wife turned from him in a rage. Hildigund ladled up some broth, saying nothing, and Cappen ate it with pleasure, though it could have used more seasoning.

  After that he indited a sonnet to the princess, who regarded him wide-eyed. The troll came back from a tunnel after he finished, and said curtly: "This way." Cappen took the girl's hand and followed her into a pitchy, reeking dark.

  She plucked an arras aside to show a room which surprised him by being hung with tapestries, lit with candles, and furnished with a fine broad featherbed. "Sleep here tonight, if you dare," she growled. "And tomorrow I shall eat you--and you, worthless lazy she-trash, will have the hide flayed off your back!" She barked a laugh and left them.

  Hildigund fell weeping on the mattress. Cappen let her cry herself out while he undressed and got between the blankets. Drawing his sword, he laid it carefully in the middle of the bed.

  The girl looked at him through jumbled fair locks. "How can ye dare?" she whispered. "One breath of fear, one moment's doubt, and the troll is free to rend ye."

  "Exactly." Cappen yawned. "Doubtless she hopes that fear will come to me lying wakeful in the night. Wherefore 'tis but a question of going gently to sleep. O Svearek, Torbek, and Beorna, could you but see how I am resting now!"

  "But ... the three truths ye gave her ... how knew ye...?"

  "Oh, those. Well, see you, sweet lady, Primus and Secundus were my own thoughts, and who is to disprove them? Tertius was also clear, since you said there had been no company here in three years--yet are there many trolls in these lands, ergo even they cannot stomach our gentle hostess." Cappen watched her through heavy-lidded eyes.

  She flushed deeply, blew out the candles, and he heard her slip off her garment and get in with him. There was a long silence.

  Then: "Are ye not--"

  "Yes, fair one?" he muttered through his drowsiness.

  "Are ye not ... well, I am here and ye are here and--"

  "Fear not," he said. "I laid my sword
between us. Sleep in peace."

  "I ... would be glad--ye have come to deliver--"

  "No, fair lady. No man of gentle breeding could so abuse his power. Goodnight." He leaned over, brushing his lips gently across hers, and lay down again.

  "Ye are ... I never thought man could be so noble," she whispered.

  Cappen mumbled something. As his soul spun into sleep, he chuckled. Those unresting days and nights on the sea had not left him fit for that kind of exercise. But, of course, if she wanted to think he was being magnanimous, it could be useful later--

  * * * * *

  He woke with a start and looked into the sputtering glare of a torch. Its light wove across the crags and gullies of the troll-wife's face and shimmered wetly off the great tusks in her mouth.

  "Good morning, mother," said Cappen politely.

  Hildigund thrust back a scream.

  "Come and be eaten," said the troll-wife.

  "No, thank you," said Cappen, regretfully but firmly. "'Twould be ill for my health. No, I will but trouble you for a firebrand and then the princess and I will be off."

  "If you think that stupid bit of silver will protect you, think again," she snapped. "Your three sentences were all that saved you last night. Now I hunger."

  "Silver," said Cappen didactically, "is a certain shield against all black magics. So the wizard told me, and he was such a nice white-bearded old man I am sure even his attendant devils never lied. Now please depart, mother, for modesty forbids me to dress before your eyes."

  The hideous face thrust close to his. He smiled dreamily and tweaked her nose--hard.

  She howled and flung the torch at him. Cappen caught it and stuffed it into her mouth. She choked and ran from the room.

  "A new sport--trollbaiting," said the bard gaily into the sudden darkness. "Come, shall we not venture out?"

  The girl trembled too much to move. He comforted her, absentmindedly, and dressed in the dark, swearing at the clumsy leggings. When he left, Hildigund put on her clothes and hurried after him.

  The troll-wife squatted by the fire and glared at them as they went by. Cappen hefted his sword and looked at her. "I do not love you," he said mildly, and hewed out.

  She backed away, shrieking as he slashed at her. In the end, she crouched at the mouth of a tunnel, raging futilely. Cappen pricked her with his blade.

  "It is not worth my time to follow you down underground," he said, "but if ever you trouble men again, I will hear of it and come and feed you to my dogs. A piece at a time--a very small piece--do you understand?"

  She snarled at him.

  "An _extremely_ small piece," said Cappen amiably. "Have you heard me?"

  Something broke in her. "Yes," she whimpered. He let her go, and she scuttled from him like a rat.

  He remembered the firewood and took an armful; on the way, he thoughtfully picked up a few jeweled rings which he didn't think she would be needing and stuck them in his pouch. Then he led the girl outside.

  The wind had laid itself, a clear frosty morning glittered on the sea and the longship was a distant sliver against white-capped blueness. The minstrel groaned. "What a distance to row! Oh, well--"

  * * * * *

  They were at sea before Hildigund spoke. Awe was in the eyes that watched him. "No man could be so brave," she murmured. "Are ye a god?"

  "Not quite," said Cappen. "No, most beautiful one, modesty grips my tongue. 'Twas but that I had the silver and was therefore proof against her sorcery."

  "But the silver was no help!" she cried.

  Cappen's oar caught a crab. "What?" he yelled.

  "No--no--why, she told ye so her own self--"

  "I thought she lied. I _know_ the silver guards against--"

  "But she used no magic! Trolls have but their own strength!"

  Cappen sagged in his seat. For a moment he thought he was going to faint. Then only his lack of fear had armored him; and if he had known the truth, that would not have lasted a minute.

  He laughed shakily. Another score for his doubts about the overall value of truth!

  The longship's oars bit water and approached him. Indignant voices asking why he had been so long on his errand faded when his passenger was seen. And Svearek the king wept as he took his daughter back into his arms.

  The hard brown face was still blurred with tears when he looked at the minstrel, but the return of his old self was there too. "What ye have done, Cappen Varra of Croy, is what no other man in the world could have done."

  "Aye--aye--" The rough northern voices held adoration as the warriors crowded around the slim red-haired figure.

  "Ye shall have her whom ye saved to wife," said Svearek, "and when I die ye shall rule all Norren."

  Cappen swayed and clutched the rail.

  Three nights later he slipped away from their shore camp and turned his face southward.

  * * *

  Contents

  WHEN SUPER-APES PLOT

  by Wilder Anthony

  CHAPTER I.

  - FROM ANOTHER WORLD.

  DAWN in the Borneo jungle! The rising sun shone down upon what may have been the strangest sight seen in that vast wilderness since the beginning of time. A dark and gloomy lake, some ten miles wide, lay shimmering beneath gray mists which rose like clouds of steam from its glassy surface; here and there this surface was broken by waterspouts which constantly boiled up and fell back again as though heated from the depths beneath by gigantic fires.

  On all sides was virgin jungle. A dense rank growth of trees and vines rose up from the very edge of the water like a living wall, hemming in the lake with an almost solid mass of vegetation which reached unbroken for miles and miles.

  Near the center of this lake there was an island. Like the mainland, this island seemed to be covered with verdure, but from near the middle of it the twin peaks of a great mountain reared up far above the treetops, and from between these peaks rose a tall column of yellowish smoke that spiraled sullenly into the upper atmosphere. To the eyes of the initiated this lazy smoke wreath told the reason for those boiling waterspouts: the whole region was volcanic, undermined with sleeping fires of a vastness beyond the conception of man.

  Unusual as were these natural phenomena, however, there was a far stranger thing in the lake that morning--a thing which had not been there when the sun rose on the previous day. Some two hundred feet from the shore of the island, near a point where a little sandy beach broke the monotony of the tree-fringed coast and where the black water was free from geysers, a huge seaplane lay floating gently on the still surface.

  Like some great fowl of an unknown species this visitor from another world rested in its dark setting, its metal parts and white planes, nearly a hundred feet across, reflecting the early rays of the sun, its propellers and engines motionless and silent.

  As the sun climbed higher in the sky and the lake mists evaporated and disappeared, there were sundry indications of life in the anchored seaplane. A canvas curtain which inclosed the entire hull was rolled up, and a tall, strong-looking man, about thirty years of age, thrust his head and shoulders over the side to survey the island.

  Presently this man was joined by another, shorter and of dark complexion; then came a thin, gray-haired old fellow; and last of all a very pretty young woman with a wealth of yellow hair, which reflected the sun's rays like polished gold.

  For a few minutes the four people contemplated the scene before them in silence; then the younger white man--he of the tall figure and wide shoulders who had first appeared---grinned boyishly.

  "Some scenery, isn't it?" he remarked, dropping one big arm caressingly around the waist of his wife, who had come close up to him. "It's the island all right; there can't be another place just like this anywhere on earth. That beach yonder looks like a scene from a comic opera--one almost expects to see a group of chorus girls come dancing out of the trees."

  "A band of naked savages would be more in order," the old man chuckled, as he removed his spectacles
to wipe them with his handkerchief. "One must expect the unexpected in such a place as this. Nature is nowhere more wonderful than in the tropics; she works slowly, but with a lavish hand. Our plane gives things a distinctly up-to-date touch, however."

  "You're right there, doctor," the first speaker agreed, letting his eyes wander pridefully over the great machine which had brought them all the way from America to that little-known land. "No place on earth is inaccessible these days. The trip has been nice and comfy, too; no hardship at all."

  "It's been glorious!" his wife exclaimed, snuggling closer to his side. "Perfectly glorious! Not a single hitch since we left San Francisco--if only it will continue!"

  "No reason in the world why it shouldn't, honey," the big man declared. "We haven't a single thing to worry about. The Bamangani are harmless enough if they're decently treated, and the presents we've brought them will keep them jabbering with delight for years to come. There's no reason why they should not be friendly. Now, we'd better have breakfast. We've got lots to do, you know. Batu and I must go ashore and explain matters to these ape-men. If they should happen to catch a glimpse of the Condor before we talk with them they'll likely be scared stiff. Eh, Batu?"

  The Dyak grinned broadly. "Yes, tuan,"---master--he answered. "Bamangani not understand flying through the air--think we are gods or devils when they see big bird-boat. Think us very much taboo. Sure, Mike!" He turned and ducked down into the little cabin amidships to attend to his cooking, and the others smiled.

  Several years of city life had made some wonderful changes in Batu, and the most noticeable of these, perhaps, was the aptitude he had shown for English, especially American slang. With the exception of the word "tuan," by which term of affectionate respect he always addressed his employer, he reverted to his mother tongue only in moments of great stress or excitement.

  When he left Borneo to follow the master, whom he loved even better than his native jungle, to America he had been an untamed son of the wilderness; now he was a more-or-less-finished product of the land of his adoption. Nominally, he was Thomas Hardin's personal servant; actually he was a friend, almost a member, of the family, as indispensable to them as the banker and his wife were to him.