by Anthology
Incredulously, he stared, his heart hammering painfully.
His eyes swung in an agony of apprehension to Professor Carstair’s inert form, sprawled piteously on the rocky floor, then back to the advancing horde, to the small, dark haired girl, whose frail slimness was terribly emphasized by the towering bulk of the brutes who strode beside her.
“Linda!” he cried frantically.
At the sound of her name the girl looked up, and an expression of sudden hope and joy flooded her strained features.
“Barry,” she whispered.
That faint sound went through him like a powerful elixir. With a sudden frenzied burst of strength he broke away from the hands that held him, and staggered toward her. Two shaggy creatures sprang after him, bellowing madly, but before they reached him, his inspired strength faded and he crashed forward to the hard floor.
Chapter VI
Waiting for Death
“There will be a full moon tonight!”
Professor Carstairs spoke the words slowly, with careful unmistakable emphasis. In the small dimly lighted chamber where he and Barry had been confined, they echoed with a fatalistic ring.
Barry lifted his head from his hands and looked up haggardly at the professor’s slight figure.
“That means curtains for us then?” he asked.
“I’m quite certain of it,” the professor answered. “You noticed the excitement in the face of the creature who brought us our food this morning? You hear the undercurrent of restless anticipation that drifts in to us? Very evil portents, both.”
Barry stood up and savagely paced the narrow width of the cell.
“If only we knew what these beasts had done with Linda and McGregor and Allerton,” he raged. “It’s waiting here helplessly while she might be hurt, or in danger, that’s driving me crazy.”
“The others are safe until tonight,” Professor Carstairs said heavily. “What might happen then is something I dare not let myself think about.”
Barry slumped against the wall, gritting his teeth to hold back a groan. It was not his own life he regretted losing. It was the thought of Linda, frail and defenseless, going forth to a barbarous death, that brought red flecks of madness before his eyes. Since that brief moment, a week ago, when he had seen her, pitifully stumbling before the callous shouts of the brutish, gloating men, he had known that her fate was more important to him than his own. If, in dying, he could save her, he would consider it a light payment. But to go to death, futilely and uselessly, unable to raise a finger to help her, was maddening.
There was no way of measuring the passage of time in their dark damp dungeon. A faintly flickering torch in the corridor cast an oppressive, uncertain illumination through the chinks in the door of their cell. No other light reached them.
After an interminable stretch of time, the professor lifted his head. “Listen!” he said tensely.
A faint shout reached them and before it faded it was echoed by other voices, growing louder and closer. A tramping of feet that seemed to jar the solid rock floor came to them, and the eager howling voices swelled to an unbelievable crescendo as the mightily thudding feet neared.
Then, with a crash, the timbers of the door shattered and a half dozen shaggy demoniacal figures broke through and fell on them. Barry felt leather thongs cutting into his arms and wrists, then he was jerked into the corridor between two of the cave men.
A milling horde of the savages surrounded him and in the pale light their slavering fangs and unkempt hair gave them the appearance of lusting animals.
A hoarse sing-song chant broke out from them as they hustled him down the corridor. Then, hours and miles later it seemed, he was dragged through a crude arch way into the vast vaulted chamber that was the core of the volcano. Moonlight streaming through the hole hundreds of feet above his head, bathed with soft mellow light the incredible scene that confronted him.
The large, naturally-formed arena was jammed with the shaggy men, the slovenly women and the shrieking children of the cave tribe. From wall to wall they formed a solid, screaming mass of primitive humanity. Flaring torches set in niches in the wall touched their glaring eyes with points of light and transformed them to glowing pools of insane frenzy.
On their hideously twisted faces was the stamp of mob lust, thirsting for vengeance, for sacrifice, for blood.
Barry tore his eyes from the terrible spectacle of these unclean savages caught in the turbulent stream of their own enraged passions. His gaze swung to the center of the arena, and cold film of perspiration broke on his face.
For, tied to an immense pillar, were the forms of Linda, McGregor and Allerton. McGregor’s fiery red head was thrown back in rage, but Allerton was slumped limply against the column. He would have fallen if it hadn’t been for the thongs that bound him to the pillar. Linda was standing calmly, her head high, but there was a desperate terror in her eyes.
Barry took in the entire dreadful scene in one flickering instant, before he was shoved roughly through the howling mass of savages toward the sacrificial pillar.
Half stumbling, half falling, he almost lost consciousness as the maddened mob, incited by the vision of more victims, clawed at his face and clothes. Shrieking children were held high by foaming-mouthed mothers, to strike at his face and head with small fists, clenched around sharp rocks.
If it hadn’t been for his escort he would have been torn to pieces before he had traveled a dozen feet. As it was, the mob was shoved away, the rows of bestially contorted faces falling aside like waves before the prow of a ship.
At last the nightmare passage was made and Barry was shoved against the pillar beside Linda. Heavy leather thongs were whipped about his shoulders and arms, the ends of the bonds were jerked tight through crude stone loops which had been chiselled into the pillar. In another few seconds the battered figure of the professor was hauled through the crowd and tied beside him.
The old man’s white head slumped forward to his breast and his knees buckled, until only the pressure of the thongs kept him from falling.
The savage horde fell back from them then and squatted on the floor, their heads and eyes directed toward the shaft of moonlight that speared through the volcano opening, flooding the amphitheatre with its ghostly blue light.
From their throats poured a deafening, throbbing chant that filled the vast arena with its ominous volume. They seemed more like savage hounds baying at the mystery of the moon, than human creatures.
Barry twisted against his bonds until he could look down at Linda. His throat was tight as he saw the tiny smile she forced to her trembling lips.
“Will it be—swift?” she asked softly,
“I think so,” he said.
There had been a thousand things in his mind to say to this girl but now they were gone. Or rather the necessity for saying them was gone. Somehow their silence seemed to be saying more than any words could.
“Boss!” It was McGregor’s voice, cheerfully undismayed. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again this side of creation. Things look dark, don’t they? If I could get my hands free for a minute I’d show these howling apes a trick or two.”
“Barry,” Linda whispered, “will you please hold my hand? I don’t want to be afraid.”
Barry twisted until he could hold her small cold hand in his.
“You won’t be,” he said. “That’s a promise.”
“I hope my father doesn’t regain consciousness,” she said, a moment later. “If he goes—not knowing—it will be easier.”
They talked then for a while.
Barry told her how he had been brought to the place and of meeting her father. Against the background of, the kneeling cave men and their savage, chilling chant, the tale lost its sense of unreality. Linda explained, aided by occasional profane comments from McGregor, how they had been attacked and captured by the marauding horde of savages and brought to their underground dwelling after a forced march through the almost impassible jungle.
Further conversation was made impossible then by a tremendous roar from the barbaric mob which ringed about them. Several dozen of the huge men had sprung to their feet and were hurrying to the archway through which Barry had been led. A wild commotion was raging at the entrance to the arena. The excitement communicated itself to the farthest corners of the hall, and almost as a single man, the kneeling horde rose to its feet, screaming maniacally.
Barry saw then the cause of the intense excitement. A small band of cave men had entered the arena, in their center was the slim dark-haired bird-girl. There was no fear in her lean haughty face, but her expressive eyes flashed vainly about the hall, like tiny birds flying at the bars of an invisible cage. Her arms were bound, and her great black wings hung at her side. Barry noticed that the wing which had been broken was still encased in the crude splint which the professor had applied.
The insane demonstration of the horde reached new heights as the slim figure of the bird-girl was shoved through their midst. Fierce, gnarled hands grabbed at the long silky wing feathers that flowed behind her, and, in some case, came away holding them clutched triumphantly.
The girl stared straight ahead, her head held high, her lustrous black hair streaming back to her shoulders. There was something scorning and disdainful in the proud set of her shoulders, the rigid arrogance of her bearing.
“She is magnificent!” Linda breathed.
The inner fringes of the mob split and the bird-girl was shoved roughly into the cleared space about the pillar. One of the guards lumbered to the column and began untying a bundle of leather braids that had been lashed to one of the stone loops, while the other kept his grip on the bird-girl’s bound arms.
She was standing almost directly in front of Barry, and her dark inscrutable eyes settled on his with a fixed stare.
There was no expression on her features. They remained sternly and haughtily set, but there was a peculiar, questioning quality in the look she fixed on him.
Barry saw that her injured wing hung straight and clear from her side and that while the splint was crude and cumbersome, it shouldn’t seriously affect her flying.
If she had the chance to fly . . .
The thought struck him and simultaneously he acted. The one idea in his mind was that if there was any chance of this creature escaping, any possibility of cheating the barbarous cave men of her torture and death, he wanted to give her that chance.
His legs weren’t bound and the bird-girl’s massive guard was standing within three feet of him. Flattening his back against the pillar for more leverage, he jerked his knee up and lashed out with his boot-shod foot. His swiftly traveling, powerfully driven foot caught the surprised guard in the pit of the stomach. With a wild yell of pain he clasped both hands to his belly and sank in agony to the floor.
For an instant the bird-girl stood rooted to the spot, staring stupidly at the writhing figure of the guard. A half dozen of the cave men were leaping for her, but still she remained motionless, her eyes swinging from the fallen guard to Barry. She looked at him an instant, her black eyes as unrevealing as ever; then, with a gloriously lithe and free motion, she leaped into the air. Her great wings spread mightily and beat like fluttering drums as she soared upwards.
Pandemonium raged in the jammed arena.
Barry twisted about and saw that the bird-girl was already a dozen feet above his head, circling upward with slow steady beats. Even at that distance it was apparent she was favoring her injured wing, for she was veering slightly to the right with each wing stroke.
Roaring with rage, a dozen of the cave men hurled their stone axes at the slowly ascending figure of the bird-girl. Barry held his breath as the missiles flashed past her miraculously missing their mark.
“Oh God!” he cried. “Let her make it!”
If it wasn’t for the girl’s weakened wing she would have been out of range by then, but she was forced to fly painfully and slowly, gaining only a few feet with each laborious circling of the arena.
The guard whom Barry had kicked crawled sluggishly to his feet, his bestial face contorted with rage. Barry was gazing upward at the desperately laboring girl, when something like a sledge hammer crashed into the side of his face. His head snapped back against the stone pillar with a sickening crunch, and the last thing he heard was Linda’s scream . . .
When he opened his eyes again his head was throbbing painfully, but he saw that the assembled tribe of cave men were again on their haunches, their eyes fixed in mystic concentration on the bright shaft of moonlight that streamed through the opening of the volcano.
Linda’s hand squeezed his warmly.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“I seem to be,” he said groggily. “What hit me?”
“The brute you kicked,” Linda said angrily. “He struck you when you weren’t looking.”
Barry grinned bitterly and spat the salty blood from his mouth. Linda’s fingers tightened on his hand again.
“Barry,” she whispered, “she made it!”
Chapter VII
Thor’s Mighty Hammer
“Fine,” Barry said grimly. “How long have I been out?”
“About an hour, I think,” Linda said. “You have a nasty bump on the back of your head. It hurt me just to look at it.”
Barry swung his eyes over the arena. The hundreds of savages who filled the place from wall to wall, were waiting in ominous, expectant silence. Their eyes were riveted to the small opening at the apex of the vaulted ceiling, and gleaming with unholy fervor. The only sound was that of their hoarse breathing. Barry saw then that the shaft of moonlight struck the ground about twenty feet from the pillar to which they were bound, and it was moving inexorably toward them. They were directly under the opening through which the moonlight poured, and in a short while the moon would pass directly overhead. Then the shaft of light would strike them directly, bathing them completely in its calm soft radiance.
Barry realized then for what the crouching savages were waiting. They were waiting for the inevitable rotation of the moon to point its finger of light at the victims bound to the sacrificial pillar.
When that happened the crouching cave men would slake their blood thirst. Glancing down at his feet, Barry repressed an involuntary shiver as he noticed faded rusty stains at the foot of the column. Only, .he knew, they weren’t rust stains.
Linda looked up at him and smiled faintly.
“In fifteen minutes it will be over,” she said softly. Her eyes turned involuntarily to the shaft of brilliant light, creeping closer and closer, then she looked back at him. “I understand,” she said quietly.
Barry felt thankful that she had guessed why the cave men were waiting. He wouldn’t like having to tell her.
He heard a faint sobbing sound then and, twisting about, he saw that Allerton was regaining consciousness. The man’s big body seemed somehow shrunken. His face was pallid and the strands of wheat colored hair that fell over his forehead was dark with perspiration. There was a furtive, fearful light in his eye as his gaze flicked over the watching, waiting cave men.
“I don’t want to die,” he whispered hoarsely. That was all he said, but every shuddering breath he drew was like a moan.
“If you start blubbering,” McGregor said with terrible earnestness, “I’ll get my hands loose if it’s the last thing I do and choke you till your tongue hangs down your shirt front. Remember that!”
The imperceptibly advancing shaft of moonlight was now only five feet from the pillar and Barry noticed a sudden stir in the silent ranks of the cave men.
The huge, tremendously muscled brute who had led the party, which had captured Linda and McGregor, was striding through the crouching ranks of the cave men and on his shoulder he carried the brilliantly flashing stone that was lashed into the forked end of his club.
A murmur rippled through the tensely watching savages as this impressive creature shoved his way through them and advanced to the base of the pillar to which
the victims were tied.
Barry saw with a quick glance that the fatal shaft of light was already touching one side of the pillar, spreading its illumination over McGregor and Allerton. In a few minutes it would completely bathe them with its deadly brilliance.
The huge savage shouted a stream of unintelligible sounds, his coarse features working insanely, the terrible light in his small, close-set eyes gleaming with the lustful fever for blood.
He leaped from one foot to the other in a wild dance that was hideous in its suggestion of bestial emotion and raw savagery, continuing at the time, to scream his wild words into the night. Swinging the glittering stone about his head he hopped in and out of the shaft of moonlight, bellowing in a mad ecstasy when the radiant light touched him, and whining in a dreadful monotone when his leaps carried him into the darkness again.
Then raising the club high above his head he dashed it to the ground at their feet. Instantly a crescendoing detonation split the air and a brilliant bolt of light flashed up from the earth, searing their faces with its blinding heat.
With a wild cry the cave savage hurled himself to the ground, grabbed the glittering hammer and scrambled to his feet again.
Once again the nightmarish dance began, the whirling club gleaming with a thousand refracted lights as it spun crazily about the head of the impassioned dancer.
A steadily growing chant was rising from the tensely watching tribe. Their eyes were like tiny sparks of hell-fire in the darkness, and their whitely gleaming teeth crunched and champed as the hoarse mouthings of their dancer rose to new heights of frenzy.
Barry held Linda’s hand tightly.
“Chin up,” he said quietly. “It will soon be over.”
The feverishly mad gyrations of the dancing savage were reaching a climax. The shaft of moonlight was inevitably spreading over the pillar. Now all but a tiny portion of the blood altar was gleaming palely under its mellow luminescence.