The Golden Age of Weird Fiction MEGAPACK™, Vol. 4: Nictzin Dyalhis

by Nictzin Dyalhis

  There was a comfortable couch, and a table spread with viands, and wine stood in a tall beaker.

  Food and drink! I had not thought of them since I had left my physical body lying at foot of the black cubical altar away back there on earth. They had not since then been necessities; nor were they so here, but they were luxuries; and as such I appreciated them. And, of their sort, they were good. Then I reclined upon the couch, and for a time I slept.

  * * * *

  For quite a long while I dwelt an inmate of the palace pleasantly enough—speaking strictly in a negative sense—for I was in nowise annoyed nor molested by anything or anyone.

  My quarters were comfortable; I had all the luxuries which an honored guest might have expected placed at his disposal; the raiment furnished me was little short of sumptuous. And I was puzzled by it all.

  Had I made such an impression upon him, the Lord of Hate, that I had won his actual regard? Or was it all but a prelude to some particularly and peculiarly devilish form of torment he had devised for me as reward of my temerity in replying so insolently during that one brief interview? I could not figure it out, so decided that the only sensible course was to accept the situation as I found it and await developments.

  I even had the hardihood to leave the palace and wander about the infernal city at will, on several occasions. It was a chancy thing to do; but aside from several minor disagreeable adventures, too trivial to set down in this relation of more important events, nothing happened to me during these rambles.

  Then finally, when I was becoming so bored that once I caught myself seriously contemplating participating in the vice and depravity so prevalent in the city, a messenger came to summon me to the throne room. Fortunately, I was in my quarters at the time.

  The mighty Prince surveyed me with somewhat of approval in his gaze—or so I imagined.

  “Earthman,” he greeted me; “thou art improved in appearance since thine arrival. Henceforward thy place is here at my side.”

  I expressed my appreciation as best I might, but he waved the matter aside, as courteous as ever, treating the favor he showed me as a merest nothing.

  I noted from time to time that messengers came and went—all of them apparently of some importance. They naturally varied greatly in appearance and types, as among them were representatives from practically all the realms and regions of space.

  Not being wholly a fool, I judged them for precisely what they were—emissaries from the princes and rulers of evil, bearing tidings from their fiendish masters—who, doubtless, were his allies and who intended joining him in his projected war of aggression when all plans were complete.

  I was right. For later, as I stood beside the prince, he turned to me.

  “It is my will that thou goest with me,” he commanded; and I coolly queried: “Where?”

  “There is, in a great hall in this, my city, a council now assembled. It is formed by the Lords and Princes of the Powers of Wrong from all the many hells,” he replied, smiling a trifle indulgently at my obvious interest.

  “I shall preside,” he went on; “and as thou art high in my estimation, Earthman of mine, I shall have need of thee immediately our deliberations are ended.”

  “It is thine to command—mine be it to obey,” I responded, outwardly servile, but inwardly delighted at my luck.

  “Come then,” ho said quietly, rising from his throne of bronze.

  I was a bit puzzled at his going forth to such an important gathering unattended by any retinue; and he read my thought.

  “It is of too great moment for any but the highest to be allowed to attend,” he stated, “but thou art my personal attendant, and as such, I shall need thee presently. Moreover,” he added graciously, “I have no fear thou wilt ever betray me, no matter what thou mayest there learn.”

  He had paced slowly to the entrance while he had been talking, and now we stood upon a balcony overlooking that side of the city. He raised a hand and pointed out a huge, square, dark building.

  “There,” he said, “is the great council hall, where, at my command, convene the Lords of Wrong whenever I have need of them.”

  “Do they all yield obedience to thee?” I questioned.

  An expression so utterly damnable came upon his usually controlled features that I shrank back a pace in stark terror—and I am not easily affrighted.

  “They do well to obey,” he snarled. Then, turning upon me the full strength of that awful hell-glare suffusing his eyes, he demanded in a chill voice:

  “Who dost thou think I am—some subordinate, petty princeling? Nay, thou blind earthworm—I am the Adversary himself! Knowest thou now whom thou dost serve?”

  “Lucifer!” I gasped. This was more than I had calculated upon! Lucifer, the Archfiend; the Fallen Angel; the Rebellious One—he who was formerly the chief and fairest of all the Seraphim; and was now but a banished rebel against the Supreme Will.

  And he it was who was planning—and the bare idea of what those plans must be made my spirit shudder, appalled. He had been watching my face intently, and now he nodded as if well pleased.

  “Come,” he said simply, mastering the momentary rage which had dominated him. I must say that, despite my knowing him now for what he was, he forced from me an unwilling admiration by his display of will dominating inherent nature.

  Suddenly as an earthly rocket, he shot into air, and with no effort of my own, I was drawn after him precisely as a bit of steel might be drawn by a rapidly moving electro-magnet.

  As we approached the great council building, I recognized it. I had seen it from every possible angle during my wanderings about the city; and I knew it for an immense, hollow cube, with no visible entrance on any face.

  Never had I traveled at such high speed before! I had barely time for the fleeting thought that the tangible envelope I was wearing as a body would be splattered against that massive stone structure in a single smear as soon as we struck the nearest wall! But we passed through it—dense, solid as it was—with our forms intact!

  I caught my breath and blinked in amazement. That proud prince, Lucifer, was already seated upon a richly jeweled throne, far and away more gorgeous than the one of bronze in the throne room of his royal palace. And I found myself standing in my regular place close to his left elbow.

  But what caused me to actually gasp was the semicircle of seated forms, occupying each a throne scarcely less splendid than the one wherefrom Lucifer faced them. Yet theirs were reared not quite so high, as was his; as was but fitting, for they were, after all, his tributary vassals, high though their rank might be in their own realms.

  Away back in the medieval days upon Earth, someone with an imagination approximating that of a little child’s tried to describe the different Lords of Wrong. And the best he could do was to endow them with the physical appearances of a horde of beasts and monsters, actual and mythological. And such has been the accepted idea ever since!

  What puerile folly—merest piffle! They were, and are, masters of powers and forces such as Earth even yet knows nothing of. And is it to be supposed that, with such at their command, they could not weave for themselves whatever forms and semblances were pleasing to their notions?

  I say emphatically that never in all my universal experiences have I looked upon a grander, statelier, or more beautiful assemblage.

  True, there was one thing they, for all their powers, could not do. They could not wholly disguise their true characters. I saw infernal pride stamped on every countenance there; besides which, each face wore an, expression of strange, wearied patience as of those immortals whose lots are fixed, unchangeable, immutable, for all eternity.

  But there common resemblance to type ended. Just as on Earth every man has one besetting sin or vice or dominant desire, so was it with these. Only, precisely as their natures are more intense than are those of Earth-mortals, so too, their predominant evil was stronger and marked them each with his own peculiar expression.

  I shall not describ
e them farther. Let each one imagine them as he or she may please. We all know the look of avarice; of hate; of envy—but why amplify? This is enough for illustration.

  That Infernal Council opened as formally as any lodge on Earth. And, long before it was ended, my soul was sick within me. Yet, oddly enough, I sincerely believe that despite the fact that these were archfiends and I a mere mortal, I was the one who, in all that vast hall, felt the greatest wrath!

  But it was against them, one and all, that my hate burned. I had listened to the unbelievable—the unspeakable—the unthinkable! In truth, I know not how the very soul of me—the spirit itself—escaped shriveling to nothingness from horror—or kept from becoming even as they were from venomous rage in presence of such damnability!

  I dare not write what I heard and learned!

  I have made report to the Shining One who sent me. I have been commanded by an authority to which even she yields implicit obedience, to remain silent forever on this matter. And I certainly will not disobey the clear injunction I received before I was permitted to set down these events for my fellow mortals to read. Were those things written out, the very pages would burst into flames as the pen-point traced the horrific phrases! And mortals, reading, were I to grave them in stone, or scrawl them on asbestos, would pray in vain for annihilation!

  Finally the deliberations ended. Ensued a brief pause. And over me swept such aghast fear as never before had I known. I realized that I was the focus of attention!

  The fallen Archangel turned to me with jeering, softly sardonic words on his lips and a mocking smile in his eyes.

  “O Earthman of such great courage—and even greater folly; well and faithfully hast thou played thy part! Doubt not that she who beguiled thee into attempting to match thy feeble wits against mine own, will be much beholden to thee—when thou dost make to her thy report!”

  I knew what he meant by that last sentence! Only too well I understood! He meant that my report would be made sometime after eternity itself had ceased to be!

  If I had hated before, I now was like a dog suddenly gone mad. I had no weapons! I had nothing wherewith to smite! Emitting something between a snarl, a howl, and a shriek, I hurled myself straight at that evilly, luridly beautiful countenance!

  The distance was less than arm’s reach, yet ere I could overpass it, without the slightest gesture on his part, not even pointing a finger, I was stricken into immobility; smitten with a paralysis that was anguish untellable!

  I had less power of motion left me than a stone image. Yet I was anything but stone that is insensate. But I—I was a mass of little else save sensory nerves and perception. And what play those fiends made with mo can be imagined; but never can I bear to describe it!

  It was too agonizing, too awful for words. And the terrible part lay in the fact that not one of them left his seat. They did but think—and I suffered! It was humiliation unbelievable to realize that they were not even enjoying themselves but held me as being too trivial a subject to afford them amusement. Why, they were scarcely interested! Yet every one of them was as fully aware of my torments and excruciating anguish as was I myself!

  As a final refinement of cruelty, the Arch-Enemy removed from me the paralysis; left me free to wince and writhe and shudder—to moan, shriek, groan, and howl. And I, with all pride and strength sapped, in frenzy availed myself to the fullest of the capacity!

  Suddenly all pain departed and was followed by the most exquisite sensations. I felt my tormented nerves and tissues tingle with a life and vigor such as are undreamable. The relief was so great that at first I could not believe it. But then I realized that it was real, and in the conscious thrill of that power of life flowing through me, I smiled! But that smile was a trifle premature!

  Why, what was this? I was no longer standing on the floor, but was suspended above the center of the hall, about equidistant from all the seated members of the Infernal Group. I could feel no cruelty emanating from them—there was not either curiosity or anticipation. What was coming next? I found out!

  About me was gathering a faint mist of a grayish hue. It was more like a cloud of dust-particles very finely sifted. It did me no harm. I did not even notice the dust as I breathed.

  Then it commenced to swirl; apparently in all three dimensions at once. The motion became faster; the particles became more plentiful—I could no longer see clearly, although still I could see.

  Faster yet the swirling became—friction soon set up—the density increased—centripetal and centrifugal forces came into play—attraction and repulsion balanced each other—there commenced to grow about me a dim light—I understood suddenly!

  I was ensphered in a ball or globe of etheric particles. The fiends were sealing me up in the hollow center of what might, centuries or eons later, become a world, a planet in space!

  But just then it was more like a comet or a sun—incandescent. Being burned alive is one thing, and being baked alive is another matter; the more especially when to it is added the certitude that by no possibility could death intervene to put an end to suffering. No matter how long I might roast, I knew I could not die!

  Apparently, I was accounted for and there was no use wasting farther efforts upon me. The hollow sphere suddenly shot upward through the roof and departed forever from that plane.

  Whirling and spinning, it tore on its way into outer, remotest space, where was never a gleam of light from planet or sun, and where the terrific absence of temperature was so great that presently the incandescence of my vehicle perceptibly lessened. And over me swept the nightmare conviction that it was cooling, would soon grow cold! Then contraction would ensue and—

  It did! It contracted until it was pressing upon me in all directions at once. It grew colder than any iceberg ever was or will be—and still it contracted in that unimaginable chill of outer space.

  The worst thing of all the Arch-Adversary had done to me was in endowing me with that terrible power of life. It had affected that body I was wearing until, no matter how great the pressure, I did not crush. But how it did hurt!

  By then I was some milliards of miles from his realm; but suddenly, through the solid walls pressing so awfully upon me, I saw him still seated in full council; and I knew that for a fleeting moment he had allowed himself to think of me.

  I knew, too, as soon as I caught his thought, that he was aware of that, also. And I saw a faint, mocking smile shine ever so briefly in his eyes. Then darkness and horror for what seemed eons untold.

  I remember that at times I shrieked, raved, whined, and implored—begging mercy from the Merciless! Then again I would strive to reassert myself, trying to endure, to keep steadfast, and not give the proud Archfiend the satisfaction of knowing how deeply I suffered.

  A terrific shock, the impact of which well-nigh stunned me! My whirling prison stopped, hung suspended. Some new form of torture, and I would have to endure it as best I might, I thought with a queer, resigned apathy.

  Another shocking, jarring impact, worse than the first one. Another and yet again. The blows came faster and faster until there was no distinguishing one from another. Faster and harder still—and my prison-globe was commencing to give out a strangely musical humming note. Suddenly comprehension dawned upon me.

  “Power is not great in proportion to weight of impact, but to number and regularity of impact.” Undoubtedly, some new vibratory force or energy was assaulting my shell—but why? Did it mean what I had first thought—fresh torment? Or could it—could it mean that—

  The globe burst! Burst in all directions, simultaneously, as if from internal explosion. And I burst apart also! Flew asunder, outwardly, from a common center. Disintegrated with an instantaneous thoroughness that left nothing to be desired in its finality.

  Why not? The pressure upon that body I had been wearing had been of tons and tons. And it had been too suddenly released. Expansion was but a natural consequence. Too much expansion—pressure too suddenly withdrawn!

  Of course
it will be understood that that self which is the real “me” did not burst. It was, as I have said, but the acquired body alone. But at last, after experiences as hideous as though I were in truth one of the eternally damned, I was once again free.

  The crowning joy came when I found myself surrounded by a throng of dazzling, shining beings—beings whose type I instantly recognized. And, at once, I saw her, the Silver One!

  She had not forgotten, had not abandoned the Earthling whose chief wish had been to serve her. Through space uncharted, where never before had light gleamed; where never before had even the exploring Archangels passed, she had traced my prison-cell in its appalling flight; had finally overtaken it, for all its amazing speed and—

  Despite the Arch-Adversary himself, I would, after all, make to her my report! And I did, then and there. At first, she bade me wait until we were once more in her shining city. But I boldly insisted that she hear me immediately. She graciously yielded the point in recognition of what she was pleased to term my claims upon her for meritorious service.

  Well that I did report at once. When I had finished, she was, for all her supernal nature, plainly disturbed ; aghast at the awful menace threatening the universe.

  I thought I knew the laws of etheric vibration fairly well. And, for earthly requirements, I do. But all I had ever known put together was but the prattle of an infant, compared to the wisdom of the Silver One.

  How far-reaching, how all-comprehending, how all-inclusive must have been that power of sight she controlled, to enable her to keep track of my arrival on the plane of Hate; and to know when I departed therefrom, and the manner of my going. How accurate, too, that she could follow that shell so closely. And how stupendous her ability; that she could and did disrupt it so promptly!

  And that Lucifer, the fallen Archangel, was likewise one of the masters of the ether, is understood almost without saying. Already I had had more than one demonstration of his abilities; and I was to receive others very shortly.