by Anthology
With a last mighty scream, so terrible that Barry felt Linda’s hand tremble in his own, the dancer jerked himself erect, every muscle tautened, the gleaming hammer held high above his head.
His glaring eyes fixed on them with the frightfulness of a madman’s stare and the muscles of his brutish face froze in a horrible expression of demoniacal violence.
Then the shaft of brilliant moonlight shifted its last inevitable fractional inch—and the pillar of sacrifice with its five human victims was completely covered with the radiant beam of the moon.
The horde of cave people surged forward, their savage faces disfigured by their consuming emotions, and a gloating roar swept upward from their throats.
Their barbaric high priest raised himself on his toes and lifted the hammer of death high above his head.
Barry instinctively tensed himself for the shattering death he knew was coming. His fingers gripped Linda’s hand in a last mute farewell.
Then, with startling suddenness, the moonlight was blacked out and the arena was plunged into abysmal darkness. The transition from gleaming light to deep blackness came so swiftly and so unexpectedly that an incredulous murmur drifted up from the thronged hall.
One instant the small band of victims had been glaringly revealed in the full light of the moon—the next they were as invisible as if a mantel of black velvet had been thrown over them.
Then a few flickering strands of light trailed into the arena, but simultaneously the air was rent with the sudden sound of mightily throbbing wings!
A sudden exultation swept through Barry as he saw dozens of the slim streaking bird-girls, gleaming swords in hand, flash through the shaft of moonlight and dive with incredible savagery at the bewildered mass of cave men.
Instantly he realized that the blackout had been caused by their wings as they drifted into the core of the volcano. Then, as they plummeted into the arena, the moonlight broke through their beating wings, throwing grotesque effects of light and shadow against the floors and walls of the amphitheatre.
A bedlam of noise and terrified confusion raged about them, as the first ranks of the bird-girls dove into the packed jam of cave men, their gleaming, viciously curved swords slashing savagely, relentlessly, irresistibly.
The guttering torches on the wall cast an eerie illumination over the incredible scene. As the surprise of the bird-girls’ devastating attack waned, the cave men began to fight back, fighting barbarously, desperately for their very lives.
Their stone axes and blunt clubs crashed into the attacker’s whistling swords and the sound was like the roar of thunder. Many of the bird-girls fell, crippled by savagely thrown axes or clubs, but even as they fell they drove the points of their curved swords into the packed mass of cave men beneath them.
Their ferocity was unbelievable. With unceasing savagery they dove into the ranks of the cave people, slashing, stabbing, hacking and harrying. Like the mythical harpies they gave no quarter or rest, but increased the ruthlessness of their attack with every second.
From the formation of the bird-girls, a figure suddenly detached itself, wheeled in a circle and dropped to the ground next to Barry. It was the girl whom he had fed, whose wing he had set and to whom he had given liberty.
There was no expression on her lean savage features as she slashed away the bonds that held him. When he was free she regarded him for an instant, her black eyes still inscrutable and unrevealing, then she wheeled and sprang into the air.
Within ten feet her great right wing folded and she fell to the ground. Her eyes were still savage and unafraid as she met her death at the hand of a shaggy brute, who died himself an instant later as a flashing sword plunged home to his heart.
With his lips set stiffly, Barry untied Linda, then McGregor. When he turned to the professor he found that the old man’s eyes were open.
He struck his bonds from him in a few seconds, but when he turned he saw that Allerton had slumped to the ground, out cold.
He spun and saw that the relentless onslaught of the bird-girls had driven the cave men toward the entrance of the arena. Some were still fighting back but the large body of them had fled to the security of the corridors and caves where they could not be followed.
The professor’s hand was suddenly on his arm.
“Barry,” he spoke swiftly, “there’s a side entrance from this hall that leads to the jungle. Follow me.”
McGregor had already slung Allerton’s limp form over his broad shoulders.
“Okay,” Barry snapped. “Lead on.”
He grabbed two of the bird-girls weapons from the floor and taking Linda by the arm strode after the professor and McGregor . . .
Barry broke the trail through the jungle, using the curved sword as a jungle knife to hack a path through the thick rope-thick trailers and underbrush. Linda followed him, then the professor and Allerton, who had come around shortly after they left the arena, with McGregor bringing up the rear.
It was a tense silent party. Two hours in the black brooding jungle was enough to try the toughest nerves, but their desperate anxiety was not the prowling carnivora, but the two-legged beasts who trailed them.
Suddenly Barry stopped and swung around.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered.
For a moment the jungle silence enveloped them, oppressive and evil.
Then, far to their rear, they heard the sudden shrill shriek of a frightened bird.
“They’re still following,” McGregor muttered.
“They’ll follow until they get us,” Barry said grimly. “They’re gaining steadily. They’re following our trail which makes it easier for them.”
He turned to Linda and the professor.
“I told you once I’d expect obedience on this trip. I want you two to go on ahead. McGregor and I will drop back and fight a rear guard, delaying action. It’s the only chance of any of us getting through this thing.”
“But, Barry,” Linda protested, “You—”
“No arguments,” he said quietly. “You’ll have to do as you’re told.”
“What about me?” Allerton said uneasily.
Barry’s jaw hardened fleetingly. Then he shrugged.
“You go on with Linda and her father. They’ll need protection.”
McGregor snorted disdainfully.
“Fine lot of protection he’d—”
“Mac!” Barry snapped. “That’s all of that. No more talk now.”
Linda looked at him for an instant, tears in her eyes, then she turned and followed Allerton and her father. Soon the jungle swallowed all but the faint noise of their passage.
“Swell spot for us,” McGregor grumbled.
Barry grinned. “I know you better than that, Mac,” he said. “You love this and don’t try and deny it.”
“Well, what’s our program?” McGregor asked.
Barry explained. “I don’t believe there’s a large band following us. Not enough noise. Possibly there are only two or three able to travel. We’ll ambush them as they pass by us. They won’t be expecting a battle and we’ll have the advantage of surprise.”
“Sounds kind of interesting,” the big Scotchman said grimly. “I’m anxious to get a decent crack at these apes.”
Without any more talk they concealed themselves in the dense underbrush that lined the path they had made. Barry’s hands tightened on the handle of the sword he carried. McGregor was similarly armed, but such weapons might be pitifully ineffective against the brute strength and animal cunning of the cave men they were to attack.
They did not have long to wait. Within fifteen minutes the normal noises of the jungle faded away and soon they heard the tramp of feet and the rustle of great bodies against the jungle foliage.
Peering through the screen of underbrush Barry soon saw the figures of three of the Cor-Magnon creatures padding along the trail. In the lead was the giant brute who carried the blazing stone in his club. Barry felt a chill of premonition as he saw this gleaming weapo
n resting on the shoulder of the massive leader.
In the moonlight he could see the smooth play of mighty muscles and see the rise and fall of cavernous chests, and he could see the expressions of vindictive rage and lust that were stamped on the coarse thick features of the cave men.
His jaw hardened grimly. Linda’s life might depend on what happened in the next few moments.
Then the moments of cramped waiting were over. The swiftly striding cave men were within six feet of them now and in an instant they would pass between them.
Barry took a death grip on the haft of his sword and then the muscles of his legs uncoiled like powerful steel hurling him at the massive leader.
The advantage of surprise was his, and it was a decisive one. His slashing sword, in one blow, nearly decapitated the massive creature who carried the exploding stone weapon.
Almost without a sound the leader of the small group staggered back, blood pouring from his neck. He pitched to the ground and the weapon he carried exploded with a blinding flash as it struck the hard earth.
Spinning quickly he saw that McGregor had had the same success with the creature he had attacked. But the third and surviving member of the horde was already leaping at Barry, face twisted in terrible rage, his massive club swinging in a powerful arc.
Barry sprang back, but a trailing vine caught his heel and slammed him to the ground as the cave man leaped forward.
The club was descending in a mighty circle when McGregor sprang at the savage. The blow, intended for Barry, caught him on the side of the head with a sickening wet crunch.
Barry was on his feet before the snarling cave man could wield the club again. He dodged a devastating swipe, then stepped in swiftly, his sword plunging home with a savage thrust that froze an expression of amazed agony on the bestial features of the massive cave creature.
Before the man sprawled to the ground, Barry was at McGregor’s side, holding his head in his arms. The red of his hair was stained with a deeper red, and his face was pinched with pain.
But he smiled, faintly, weakly, but still a smile.
“I always had the hardest head,” he gasped. “That—blow would have knocked you cold, but—it didn’t hurt me a bit.”
“Sure, sure,” Barry said softly. “You’re okay.”
“No I’m not,” the big Scotchman said painfully. “I wouldn’t lie to you Barry, you know that. I’m done in.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Barry said desperately. “We’re only a mile or so from the professor’s time-ship. He gave me the location. I can get you there in no time.”
McGregor gripped his arm.
“Can’t go to the professor’s ship,” he gasped. “Listen to me Barry. Somethin’ funny there. Meant to tell you before now.”
“Don’t try and talk,” Barry said softly. It was all he could do to keep his voice even, for he knew that the big Scotchman was on his last safari.
“Gotta talk,” McGregor gasped stubbornly. “The professor’s time-ship hasn’t enough entropy juice to make a return trip. Only had enough to get here. Not enough to take it back. Some damn fool drained the tank of return trip fuel. Don’t go there. Head for our ship. It’s the only way you can get back. Sorry I can’t go back with you Barry.”
The big hand on Barry’s arm tightened for an instant, then fell away. Barry looked down into his friend’s peaceful, still smiling face, and a single sob shook his shoulders.
For a long moment he knelt there silently, then he rose to his feet. The gleaming, fiery stone weapon was a bright glow against the darkness of the ground. He picked it up gingerly, careful to handle it by the wooden club end, then he checked his compass and without a backward glance struck off into the jungle. . .
Speed . . . Speed . . . Speed. The single word seemed burned in his brain as he plowed frantically through the clinging underbrush.
McGregor’s dying revelation acted as a whip lashing him on and on and on.
Not enough entropy juice to take the ship back . . .
Then Linda’s words:
. . . Father left the last check-up to Bruce . . .
It was all so suddenly and terribly clear. Allerton, driven by greed and a desire to dominate completely the company he and the professor had formed, had obviously decided to eliminate the old man by marooning him in time. Entrusted with the job of checking over the professor’s ship, he had deliberately drained an entropy tank, consigning the professor and his companion, to a one way ticket to oblivion. Now, he was alone with Linda and her father, heading surely for the large ship, which he would know was the only one able to make the return trip. Unsuspecting, the professor and Linda too, were in the gravest danger.
Speed . . . Speed . . . Speed.
The word burned into his brain.
Sobbing for breath, he fought desperately through the dense undergrowth, hacking like a madman at the trailers and vines that entangled him. An eternity passed . . .
It was another hour before he reached the clearing where they had originally landed. With a prayer of thankfulness he saw the slender shimmering shape of the time-ship through the darkness of the night. There still might be time.
Then he heard the shout. It was a thin wavering cry of angry helplessness.
Staggering with weariness he broke into the clearing and by the pale illumination of the moon he saw two figures locked in fierce combat alongside the ship.
Even in that light he recognized Bruce Allerton and Professor Carstairs. The professor was hanging desperately to Allerton, but with an oath, the larger man swung the professor’s slight figure from him and struck him heavily in the face. The professor fell awkwardly to the ground and did not rise.
Allerton wheeled then, as if warned by a sixth sense, and faced Barry. The wheat colored hair hung in his blazing eyes and his chest rose and fell heavily with every gasp.
“You!” he snarled. There was a black hate and bitterness in the way he ground out the word. “You won’t stop me. No one will!”
With an inarticulate bellow he sprang at Barry.
Barry’s exhausted body rose to meet this final test. He lifted the brilliantly gleaming stone weapon he was still holding and swung it at Allerton’s charging figure. But he overestimated his strength.
The club slipped futilely from his nerveless, limp fingers and dropped to the ground. Oddly, the handle jammed in a crevice in the earth, and the club head of flashing stone did not touch the ground.
Allerton slewed to a stop, a gloating smile on his face.
“Thanks for the weapon,” he said mockingly.
He bent swiftly and grabbed the hammer by the head.
It was the last thing he ever did. The roaring explosion lifted him off his feet and hurled him backwards a dozen feet through the air. When his eyes cleared after the blinding detonation, and the acrid smoke settled, Barry stumbled to the professor’s prone figure. With the last of his waning strength he lifted him in his arms and carried him into the time-ship.
Linda was stretched out on a cot and there was a small bruise above her temple, but she was breathing evenly.
The professor opened his eyes as Barry eased him into a chair.
“Your arrival was most opportune,” he said heavily. “That fiend planned to leave us here and take Linda back with him. My boy, you have more than saved my life. You have saved everything in life that is dear to me.”
Barry looked at Linda’s pale lovely features and smiled.
“Maybe I had a selfish motive,” he said.
The professor regarded him for an instant and there was a hint of the customary twinkle in his keen blue eyes. He nodded his head slowly. “I see,” he said, “I see.”
Linda stirred slightly then and Barry dropped to his knees beside the cot. When she opened her eyes he was smiling. “Everything is all right,” he whispered. “Don’t try to speak now.”
The professor set the controls and mechanism for the return trip, but before he made the final adjustment, Barry swung around to him. �
�Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked. The professor looked at him blankly. “No. Why?”
“What about your mission here?”
“Oh!” the professor nodded, “You refer to my search for the hammer of Thor—the hammer weapon of the cave people is the legendary hammer.”
“Well,” Barry said, “aren’t you going to take it back with you?”
“Oh that won’t be necessary,” the professor was absorbedly tinkering with the intricate mechanism of the ship. “You see, there was no problem of synthetic energy in the action of the explosive hammer. It was simply a highly magnetized rock which released an electrical charge when grounded. That ended my interest in the matter. I have another problem facing me now. It has to do with the entropy zone movement of time travel. I must get back and get to work on it.”
A frown settled over his forehead as he leaned nearer the control board of the ship. It was obvious that he had forgotten everything else.
Linda squeezed Barry’s hand.
“Do you think,” she said, “that you can stand a research scientist for a father-in-law?”
Barry looked down at her solemnly. “It’s a lot to ask,” he said, “but you almost balance things up. Notice I say ‘almost’.”
He slipped his arm about her shoulders as the professor engaged the master switch. “We’re on our way,” he said quietly.
“Together,” she whispered.
SAILING TO BYZANTIUM
Robert Silverberg
At dawn he arose and stepped out onto the patio for his first look at Alexandria, the one city he had not yet seen. That year the five cities were Chang-an, Asgard, New Chicago, Timbuctoo, Alexandria: the usual mix of eras, cultures, realities. He and Gioia, making the long flight from Asgard in the distant north the night before, had arrived late, well after sundown, and had gone straight to bed. Now, by the gentle apricot-hued morning light, the fierce spires and battlements of Asgard seemed merely something he had dreamed.
The rumor was that Asgard’s moment was finished, anyway. In a little while he had heard they were going to tear it down and replace it, elsewhere, with Mohenjo-daro.