He groaned in heaviness of spirit; and I felt two scalding tears run adown my checks.
“I can not remember,” I wailed. “Karan I may be, but I have not his memory! A great King would I be, and a wondrous leader—with Karan s body and an Earthman’s mind!” And I sank back on my bed all atremble from sheer, impotent fury at myself.
Zarf pondered for an interminable while; then:
“Lord, it would seem that Djl Grm, ere he drove your self to the Earth, laid an inhibition on your memory-coil. And it so, we may be sure he will never release it. But, Lord, it comes to my mind that afar from here dwells another magician—Agnor Halit—fully as evil as Djl Grm, and also fully as powerful. It may well be that he can restore your memory—but it remains to be seen if he will. It is said that they hate each other as only two sorcerers can hate. And in that lies our hope. I think we would do well to start as soon as we are fit to travel, seek out this Agnor Halit, and try to enlist his aid.”
“So be it,” I assented. “Only, we start at dawn. Are we women, that we should lie at ease because of a few scratches?”
“But you are weak from your wounds,” he objected.
“No more so than are you,” I retorted. “As I say, we start at dawn. If I am indeed your King, it is for me to command—yours to obey! But for tonight, we sleep—if it be safe to sleep here.”
“You will never be safe,” he replied, “waking or sleeping, until you are once again on the Chrysolite Throne, surrounded by your own bodyguards. Still, we can take some small precautions to prevent a complete surprise.” He picked up a metal basin and two sticks, with which he rigged a device against the door, which would fall and make a noise were the door tampered with.
“There,” he grunted. “Now we can sleep—and we need it!”
* * * *
The clatter of the falling basin awoke me. I came erect, sword in hand, although I was wavering on my feet. Zarf looked at me in pity, but said naught. Slowly the door swung open, and a most grotesque visage peered in. Zarf audibly sighed his relief.
“Come in, good Koto,” he invited soothingly, as one might speak to a timid child. “King Karan will do you no harm. Nor will I.” And out of the corner of his mouth Zarf muttered—“Koto owns this hovel. He is a Hybrid, born of a lost woman of the Rodar race and an Elemental of the Red Wilderness. Yet Koto is very gentle and timid. Nor is he such a fool as he looks, for when I told him your identity, the poor creature wept because his hovel was no fit abode for royalty, even in distress. All his life long, Koto will be proud—”
“These ‘Rodars’?” I asked, softly. “And this ‘Red Wilderness’?”
“The Rodars? Gigantic savages, running naked. Gentle enough, and with child-like brains; and the Red Wilderness is a vast and dreary desert, all yours, but totally worthless.”
“Enter, good Koto,” I commanded. “I, Karan, King of Octolan, bid you enter and kneel before me.”
With a sniveling howl the poor wretch of a Hybrid blundered in awkwardly and flopped asprawl before me. He grasped his head in both apelike paws, looked at Zarf out of terror-filled eyes, opened his ugly gash of a mouth, and emitted a raucous howl. In a perfect paroxysm of fright he gabbled:
“I knew it! I knew it! This hut is unfit for King Karan the Splendid! And now he will cut off Koto’s head with his sword—cut off Zarf’s head, too, King Karan! He made me take you in—”
“But you are mistaken, good Koto,” I assured the poor fellow. “I have no intent to cut off your head—nor Zarf’s.”
Then I tapped him on the shoulder with the flat of my blade.
“Rise, Baron Koto, Lord of the Red Wilderness and of all the Rodar-folk that therein dwell. Thus I, Karan, reward your service in giving us succor in our need!”
Zarf became angry at the audacity of my act. To him it was nigh to an insult to the entire order of knighthood. Then, abruptly, he laughed.
“Lord,” he gasped, “had another than yourself wrought thus, I’d slay him with my own hand. But such pranks were ever your wont in the other days. Mad as is this one, still it may yet serve you well. You are too weak to travel, despite your bold heart, and we needs must wait in this castle of Baron Koto’s until strength returns to us both. Perchance by then Koto may be able to secure for us riding-beasts on which we may travel faster than on our own legs.”
At that last argument I capitulated. It was a good reason for waiting. But then I began to question Zarf about our intended journey.
“What manner of territory must we traverse, once we start? What sort of inhabitants dwell along our ways? Savage, or civilized? Wild, tame? Hostile or friendly? And will our swords be sufficient for our protection?’’
“It will be a long and dangerous trip,” he replied soberly. “Our way lies across this same Red Wilderness you just presented to Koto; thence across the Sea of the Dead, where evil ghosts arise from the foul waters; then over the Hills of Flint to the Mountains of Horror, where demons and vampyrs abound; and thence onward again to a city of devils who adore the lord of all devils. There, if we are fortunate, we may hope to find the sorcerer we seek.”
“Cheerful prospect!” I commented acridly. “But are these assorted Hell-spawn sufficiently solid to be cut with good steel, or are they immune to injury?”
“Some are solid enough, while others are intangible, yet dangerous for all that. And there be various tribes of savages, none friendly to strangers. Oh, we may anticipate a most enjoyable trip!”
“Zarf,” I demanded abruptly, thinking longingly of the guns and pistols of Earth—“Can you return me to Earth for a brief visit, and then bring me back here, together with certain heavy bundles? Also, can you provide me with gold or gems in quantity?”
“Lord,” he mourned, “naught have I to give you saving my life and my love. Nor gold nor gems do I possess, or you should have all with no need of asking. Nor can I return you to Earth—but why do you so suddenly wish to go?”
I explained, and he understood, but reiterated his inability to do as I requested.
“Those ‘ghunz’” he marveled, enviously—“What a pity we have them not. Throwing-spears and knives are our nearest approach.”
“Koto,” I interrupted Zarf, a new idea arising in my mind. Do you have a wood that will do like this, when seasoned?” I drew my sword, bent it in an arc, and let it spring swiftly back.
Koto nodded, then shambled from the hut. I heard sounds of wood being; split, and presently Koto was back with a long strip of hard wood which he handed me deprecatingly. I was overjoyed, for it was precisely what I needed.
“Bows and arrows,” I exulted. “Now I feel better! Zarf, we have reason to remain here for a while.”
Rapidly I explained, using a pointed stick to make clear my meaning, by drawing in the dirt of the floor. I had been an archery enthusiast on Earth, and knew my subject, even if I had never handled a sword.
* * * *
Despite my earlier urgency, it was three weeks before we three men set forth from Koto’s castle on the edge of the Red Wilderness. Three men, because Koto had protested with lugubrious howls that he wasn’t going to be left behind. I’d made him a Baron, he claimed, and it was his right to ride with me when I went forth to war! Zarf chuckled in grim approval, and I, too, endorsed Koto’s claim.
We rode the queerest steeds imaginable. Huge birds they were, more like enormous game-cocks than aught else I can compare them to; with longer, thicker spurs and bigger beaks. Ugly-tempered, too. Zarf said they’d fight viciously whenever it came to close quarters. And how those big birds could run!
I asked Koto where he got them, and he replied that he’d gone out one dark night and taken them from a flock kept by a petty lordling some distance away. When I laughed and called him a thief, he said seriously he was no such thing:
“Was not Karan the King in need of them? And did not the kingdom and all that therein was belong to the King?”
So we rode forth, all three mounted and armed with short, thick, powerful
bows and thick, heavy arrows. Zarf and I had the swords we had taken from the Vulmins, and Koto bore a ponderous war-club fashioned from a young tree having a natural bulge at the big end. Into this bulge he had driven a dozen bronze spikes all greenish with verdigris—a most efficient and terrible weapon, if he had the courage to use it in hand-to-hand fighting. Zarf maintained that Koto would be so anxious to please me that he’d fight like a maniacal fiend, should the opportunity present.
The crossing of that Red Wilderness was no pleasure jaunt. There were dust storms and blistering heat by day, and an icy wind o’ nights that howled like all the devils of Hell let loose. But in time we came to the shore of the Sea of the Dead; and a most fitting name it was for that desolate body of putrescent water.
Dull grayish-greenish water, sullenly heaving and surging to and fro sluggishly and greasily; beaches of dull grayish-brownish sands; and huge dull grayish-blackish boulders and rocks—oh! a most nightmarish picture, taken all in all.
“Zarf,” I shuddered, “may it not be possible to ride around this Sea?”
“Perhaps,” he returned, dubiously. “But we can cross it in one quarter of the time it would take to ride around.”
“But,” I queried skeptically, “how shall we cross? I see no boats, nor any way of making any.”
“I have heard of a tribe hereabouts,” he replied slowly, “and it may be that we can barter for, seize, or compel them to make for us a craft that will bear us over this pestilential sea. But now we had best think about making camp for the night.”
We rode back from the beach until the sea was lost to view—and smell. A pleased cry from Koto finally caused us to halt. Where a mass of boulders had been piled up by some ancient cataclysm, there was a cave-like recess sufficiently large to afford safe refuge for all three of us and our mounts.
What had pleased Koto particularly was the presence of a lot of lumps resembling amber, but of a queer red color. After he had collected sufficient to satisfy his ideas, he laid a line of the stuff across the entrance, and set fire to them. They burned like coal or gum, and gave off a clear pale white flame, and a most pleasant odor, with no smoke.
“This region is infested with devils at night,” Koto said seriously. “But no devil will ever dare pass that line of fire.”
He was right. No devil did pass, but after darkness came, a lot of them tried. Failing in that laudable attempt, they drew anigh the opening, and stared in avidly at us…
* * * *
We divided the night into three watches. Zarf and I wrapped ourselves in our cloaks and slept, nor did aught disturb our rest. But Koto, when he wakened me, said he had seen plenty of devils moving about beyond the line of fire. Then he rolled himself up, and so became immovable. But I, hearing no snores, grew suspicious of such somnolence, considering that he had snored like a thunderstorm incarnate since we started from his castle. Finally I tricked him into betraying himself. With a jerk of my head I summoned him to my side.
“Koto, do you think your King unfit to keep guard, that you lie awake?”
“Lord,” he replied, “there be many devils about, and some be very dangerous—tricky, too. I know their ways better than you do, and can better cope with them. Also, I await the greatest one of all, for I would talk with him on a certain matter.”
“Your father, Koto?”
“Yes, my King. Koto sent him word by a lesser devil, and he will surely come.”
“Koto,” I demanded sternly, “would you betray your King?”
“Nay, I seek to serve my Master.” He stared at me in hurt surprise. Ashamed of my suspicion, I made amends.
“I thank my Baron! Koto, have I your permission to see this father of yours?”
“So be it,” he assented, after pondering the matter for a while. “But first I must tell him, or he will be angry.”
A long interval passed. Out of the blackness beyond the fire two enormous crimson eyes glared balefully. Koto calmly arose, stepped across the glowing line of the Fire of Safety, and walked off in the darkness toward those glowing orbs. A thousand misgivings assailed me. I strained my eyes, but could see naught. Even the crimson eyes had vanished. Only one comfort did I have—if harm came to Koto, his howls would surely apprise me of his danger. So I strained my ears, but no faintest whisper came. Then, after an eon of suspense, Koto calmly returned, and muttered:
“Now if King Karan wishes to see Koto’s father—come! He is very terrible to behold, but he has promised Koto that King Karan shall be unharmed. But do not awaken Zarf—yet!”
* * * *
It took all the hardihood I could muster to step across the line of fire and walk out into that fiend-infested dark. Koto minded it far less than I. There was evil in the very air. Strange, terrible faces stared at me, half-heard voices moaned and gibbered in my ears, clammy hands grasped at my arms and clothing, yet could not hold. Once a pair of icy cold lips kissed me full on my mouth; and oh! the foul effluvium of that breath!… Abruptly, Koto halted. A huge mass of black seen against the murky blackness of the night barred further progress. We stood immovable, waiting—for what? After a bit I grew impatient, weary of standing like a rock, and reached for my sword.
“Well,” I demanded of Koto. “What is this holding us here? And where is this mighty father of yours? I am minded to try my sword on this black barrier and find out if it be impassable?”
Before he could reply—the black barrier was not! Only, two eyes that were crimson fires of hellishness were staring into mine from a distance of mere inches…no face, no form…just vacant air—and two eyes. With a snort of disgust, I turned my back to the phenomenon.
“Koto,” I said severely, “I am Karan, rightful King of Octolan. I am not interested in child’s play, nor am I to be frightened by any Elemental, devil, goblin, or fiend in all my realm. I am their King as well as yours! Let this father of yours show respect, or we return to our shelter…”
A Being stood facing me! It was taller than Koto or I, albeit no giant. Yet I knew that an Elemental was capable of assuming, at will, any form it might choose. Its features were wholly nonhuman; at the same time its expression was in nowise repulsive, nor was it fear-inspiring. But there was unmistakable power and mastery stamped thereon and shining in its great, glowing eyes.
It was staring at me coldly, impersonally, with no sign of hostility, friendliness, or even curiosity; and I stared back at it with precisely the same attitude. If it sought to overawe me, it was badly mistaken. Then I realized it was telepathically reading my soul. And strangely, I began to grasp some insight into its nature, likewise.
“Truly, you are King Karan of Octolan, returned to regain your own. And I, to whom past, present and future are one and the same, tell you that you will succeed in all you undertake. Aye! And more than you now dream. And because you have treated Koto as a man, and will eventually make of him one of whom I may yet he proud, I will transport you, Koto, that grim Zarf of yours, and your mounts as well, across the Sea of the Dead, and beyond the Hills of Flint. But across the Mountains of Horror you three must fight your own way. Certain powers of Nature I control, and naught do I fear; but there is an ancient pact between that magician whom you seek, and me. Therefore I will not anger him by taking you into ins realms, uninvited.
“Yet this I tell you for your further guidance—he will demand of you a service. Give it, and all shall go well with your plans. Refuse it, and all the days of your life you will regret that refusal. At dawn, be in readiness, and I will carry out my promise. Fear not, whatever happens, for my ways are none that you can understand, even were I to explain them. And now, farewell till dawn!”
And with that—I stood, facing nothing! Koto’s father had simply vanished.
Returning to the cave, we found a badly worried Zarf awake and cursing luridly. But he became considerably mollified when I explained, although he shook his head dubiously regarding Koto’s father and his proffered assistance.
“His aid will more likely get us in trouble tha
n help us out of it,” he grumbled. “Still, as no better course presents, I suppose we will have to accept and run all chances.”
* * * *
At the first flush of dawn we were mounted and waiting. We noted that the air held a peculiar quality, indescribable, yet familiar, somewhat like the odor caused by a levin-bolt striking too close for comfort. Also, there came a strange, murky tinge in the air—a faint moan—icy winds—a howling, shrieking, roaring fury like all the tormented souls in Hell voicing their agonies—sand, dust and small pebbles tore past us—the World abruptly vanished, together with my companions, so far as I knew—naught remained—I was choked by dust and my eyes were blinded—I was dizzy and bemazed—I knew not for certain if I were alive or dead and buried—acute misery was the sole thing I was conscious of.
My mount stumbled and fell asprawl. I lurched to my feet, gasped, retched violently, and presently felt better. I stared about me, bewildered. Zarf and Koto were just scrambling to their feet, and facing us was Koto’s father. And the great Elemental had a smile on his lips, and in his eyes a light of actual friendliness.
“Lord Karan, back of you are the Sea of the Dead and the Hills of Flint; and before you lie the Mountains of Horror, I have kept my promise to the King my son follows and honors. Farewell.”
And before I could voice my gratitude, he was gone—as seemed a habit with him. One instant visible, then—vacancy!
“I know much about my father,” Koto said slowly. “But I never knew he could do this.”
A faint trail ran down into a wide valley, on the far side of which loomed the mighty ramparts of the Mountains of Horror. And they merited the appellation. They were evil, and evil dwelt in them.
Soon the dim trail became a wide road, albeit ancient and in dire need of repair. I do not believe it had been traveled for ages, until we came; the natural conclusion being that whatever race built it had passed into oblivion, leaving their handiwork to mark their passing.
As the day drew to its close, the road led us into the ruins of an ancient city. Not one stone stood atop of another. We decided to camp there for the night, and while Koto pitched camp and prepared a meal, I strolled about the ruins.
The Golden Age of Weird Fiction MEGAPACK™, Vol. 4: Nictzin Dyalhis Page 17