Collected Fiction

by Henry Kuttner

  There were no words in me. A great sorrow swept through me, yet I could not understand. I tried to remember other things that old Simon had told me, things about the world that had warred, thinking perhaps there lay the answer. But it was futile, and the blood-lust was rising in me, the beserker madness returning. Here was the land that had been Death for—

  “Answer quickly!” Aiyana begged. “There is no time now. The bell sounded moments ago, and the Prytls have come for you.”

  “No!” I shouted. “By Lincoln, no! Show me the Black Door. Lead me to your ruler, so I may challenge him to an ordeal!”

  Swiftly Aiyana stepped back. “The Prytls are here!” she cried. “Now you shall see the Black Door.”

  I spun around. Too late. I heard a rustle of movement even before I saw the shaggy creatures Aiyana had called Prytls—and they were the same beasts who had fought me on my way to the Haunted Land. I heard a harsh command, and the blur of shadowy figures overwhelmed me. My feet were jerked from under. A heel drove into my side. And then the sweaty., hairy bodies recoiled and I looked up.

  There among the many savages stood Orgu!

  “Thank you, Aiyana,” he growled, bowing to the little one. “These Prytls are over-eager for Jo-Hagra, but he belongs to me.”

  He lowered his ugly head close to me. “You shall die, Jo-Hagra,” he snarled. I lifted my head and spat into his eyes. With a roar he lunged for me, his hands like claws, reaching for my throat.

  “Stop!”

  It was the pealing voice of Aiyana that had called. Almost instantly, the grip on my shoulders relaxed. Red-eyed, slavering, Orgu looked down at me, then at Aiyana as her voice came again. “He is not yours to kill! Take him to the Keepers.”

  Slowly, Orgu rose. There was no meaning in anything that happened, but I did not wait. I lashed out and caught Orgu’s jaw, then followed him down and tore his face with my hands. But I had had time enough for only two blows when the beasts seized me from all sides, holding me firmly in their great number.

  They dragged me to my feet, and one of them thrust a round collar of iron around my neck. Leading from the collar were many chains. Each of the savages whom Aiyana had called Prytls took an end of these chains, and thus I stood, like an animal, in the center of a circle. Should I try to move in any direction, the chains in the other direction would drag me back.

  Now I faced Aiyana and said, “Is this how you would save me? Are you and this scum called Orgu in league? Truly then, I will destroy you all.”

  Instead of answering, Aiyana laughed, and the sound of her voice was like a knife. “Take the fool away,” she screamed. “Away!”

  HOW many hours passed I had no way of knowing.

  There was time to sleep once, but since the cell in which I had been put was shut off from the light of day, I could not measure the time. Light came from somewhere, but it was not the sun; that I knew. There were no signs of life anywhere near me, and I lay on the floor of an empty chamber, my mind filled with strange thoughts. The cell I was in had no boundaries that I could see, yet if I went too far in any direction, a hard, transparent substance hit me in the face. I could run my hands on it, feel its smooth surface, but that was all.

  Then I heard Aiyana again, heard her before she was in sight. She was singing, and her voice echoed down the beautiful halls of colored stone. When she was closer, I could hear the words. It was a song she had made up about me. Part of it went—

  “. . . so the young dolt listened with his savage ears

  And the words were like sunlight to him,

  Listening with his heart and not his mind

  Threatening a revenge on the city of immortals . . .”

  Then she was standing before me, just outside the invisible walls of my cell, and a strange radiance lit all the area around her, and she was smiling, softly, intimately.

  Then I thought: she was playing a part before. Unable to stand against Orgu, for Orgu was obviously in league with the rulers of this land—else how could he have gotten there at all—she had pretended to be my enemy. But that was impossible. She had been a friend.

  “Now, Jo-Hagra,” she said, slowly. “Where is your blood revenge? Even now the Council debates your fate, as once they did for your brother North, and again for Eli. It is not often a tribal ruler of the mortals comes to us of himself. And tribal leaders, unlike simpler mortals who must slave underground, always go to the Black Door.”

  “Are we alone?” I said.

  “Quite.”

  “Then what you are saying must be true, and not intended for the ears of an enemy.”

  “True?” Her laughter rang again. “Of course it’s true. Did you think I meant what I said to you in the scarlet garden? I was but waiting for the arrival of the Prytls, for we little folk have no means against the mortals. The savages listen well enough, but a mortal is another matter. So I gave you words of sunlight, to hold you.”

  “I do not believe you, “I said. “You are an immortal, but you are not far different from other women, and I have heard it said that it is better to fight the devil than scorn a woman. You meant what you said, but now you are furious.”

  Strangely, Aiyana only smiled, entirely undisturbed. “You do not know our people,” she said, softly. There was the faint suggestion of a sad smile on her face as she continued. “We are immortal, but we can die—when we want to die by our own hands. And in these recent years, so many of us have gone that way. Perhaps we need new blood—or something that comes from new blood. Here anyone can be immortal. Your women are needed by the slaves who live in our underground, and your men have courage and stout hearts.” The smile had gone, and in its stead had come a harsher expression, much like a fierce hope that was unholy, lighting her eyes as she spoke words I could not understand. “Those too, we know we can take away. You saw your brother Eli, you thought, but he was a shell.”

  “And Orgu?” I said. “He helps your diabolical scheme against his own people.”

  “For reasons of his own,” said Aiyana, her beautiful smile flashing, “For an occasional addition to his wives within his city.”

  So that was the explanation of Orgu’s life away from the tribe. And the explanation of Aiyana knowing my name. Orgu had told her, or others in the Haunted Land, of me, and they had known I would come.

  “TELL me,” I said, “if you love me honestly, for then—”

  “Be quiet!” she flared. “With my own hands will I pluck the heart from you as it shines in the chamber beyond the Black Door.”

  And now, looking at her, I knew she meant it, and that she had been speaking the truth. Hopelessly, I rushed for her, and the unseen wall smashed into my face and blood ran down my temple. I could remember now the things Simon the Elder had said, of a world that had fought itself senselessly, age after age, even as Aiyana had said. She was a being from a world that had known only war, treachery, malice, cunning. The motives for these evils no longer existed, but the little folk were cruel without motive, thoughtless as they inflicted pain. Whatever use we mortals were to these folk was coincidental; they robbed us and killed for the joy, hidden though it was.

  “Why do you come here?” I shouted.

  “To taunt you. To drive you wild. To watch you tear your hair.”

  And then she approached closer—and her hand extended through where I thought there was a wail, and she hit me in the side of my face. When I sprang back, the wall was there again, but then I understood. There was a small space in the wall, otherwise how could we speak?

  And now, through the wall, I heard the soft patter of feet. I should have restrained my glance, for Aiyana’s ears were not as discerning as mine, but when I looked to one side, she did too, and all was lost.

  For Mira—my Mira—was running toward us!

  “STAY back!” I shouted. If Mira heard, she did not hearken. Her bronze hair streaming behind her, she was beside Aiyana in a moment. One of her hands flashed swiftly. There was a slender knife in it, and before the vicious little Aiyana
could move or make an outcry, she was held firmly by Mira’s arms, the knife inches from her throat. As the knife started to descend I cried out again, and in the momentary hesitation, Aiyana went limp. She had fainted!

  Quickly, Mira let her slump to the floor and started towards me, her eyes shining, her bosom heaving with exertion.

  “Now,” she cried, “follow me, for I have learned the way through the Veil, where—”

  Stupidly, I had not warned Mira of the unseen wall and she had walked directly into it. The blow sent her back with a cry of pain.

  “I can’t get out,” I called to her. “There is a wall here that no eye can see—the wall that struck you.”

  Unsteadily, Mira came back again, slower this time, until her outstretched hand felt the wall. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she let her hands slide along the contours of the wall around me.

  “I thought you had been enchanted when I saw you standing here, talking to her—”

  And as she mentioned Aiyana, we both turned to look at the little immortal, for we had moved completely around in a circle—but Aiyana was gone. She had slipped out.

  “How did you follow me?” I said, “and why?” For the first time I felt despondent. For myself, I knew that in some way I would have worked out a salvation. My life had been full of trials, and great danger had often dwelt beside me. But now, with Mira, resolute and courageous though she was, the danger was magnified many times. “Oh, Mira,” I said, “now indeed all may be lost.”

  But Mira cried, “The magic—Simon told me of it when I left to follow you—perhaps the metal suit may allow you to walk through this wall. Quickly, my love.”

  I needed no urging. From the sack that I still carried, I took out the suit. It seemed far too small, but as I put it on, I realized that it was of a composition that stretched. Then, clad in the metal-gray suit, I advanced to the wall. It was no use. The magic had failed. The wall would not give, though I pounded it.

  The next moment the sound of many feet came to us. There was nowhere for Mira to hide. A swarm of Prytls ran in and with harsh shouts, they seized Mira, who offered no resistance.

  Helpless, I watched Orgu and Aiyana enter the chamber. Behind them were several others of the little folk, all jabbering excitedly. Orgu laughed loudly. “See the fool in an old man’s magic!” And approaching closer to me he spat. But the unseen wall caught the moisture from his foul lips, and it hung there in mid-air, then ran down to the ground, as if on a path.

  Now Orgu, as much as I myself, and the Prytls, looked at it in wonder. When I tried to touch it, there was no wetness.

  “Take the savage to the underground!” Aiyana called, impatiently. “Give her there to those who would be mated.” The Prytls, who had kept clear of me, although doubtless wondering why I had not come to the rescue of Mira, led Mira from the chamber.

  As she left, her eyes filled with tears, she cried out to me, “Do not lose hope, Jo-Hagra! I love you.”

  I LOOKED after her until she was gone. Then Aiyana spoke. “Go now, Orgu. Leave me with this mortal.” A moment later Aiyana said to me, “The Council has instructed me to tell you that the glorious fate of tribal chiefs will be yours. After the brilliant light of the Shining Death has reduced your body to a glowing mass, you will be used in the lamps that glow in the chambers of our wise men, so that they may gain some of the wild qualities that surge in your breast. Now let your magic help you. Take that little stick from the floor and beat the walls around you.”

  With her last words still echoing within my cell, Aiyana left. Now, I thought, many of the things that I had not known were becoming clear to me. I felt I had been a fool and cursed myself bitterly, for what use had I been to my people? And I,had even failed at the almost sacred blood revenge.

  Sitting there in the stiff leaden suit that old Simon had given me, I laughed. The beserker madness was welling up within me, and I fought to keep calm, but it was useless. As useless as the little stick that Aiyana had pointed to, lying there near me, where it had fallen from my sack as I took out the suit. As useless—But then my blood chilled—and I remembered something of what Simon had said . . . “a certain hard, transparent substance . . . a magic jewel . . .” Perhaps, I thought, perhaps! If there could be a small space in the wall, there could be a larger one, if one knew how to make it. Had Mira and I used the wrong magic? Was that little stick—Simon had called it a magic wand—was that the right magic? Hurriedly I seized the stick and began to turn it this way and that. Then one end began to twist away from the other, so that the top cunningly came off—and there in the head of the stick was a white stone that seemed first colorless, and then filled with all the colors of the sunset. A diamond, Simon had called it. It felt hard and smooth to the touch.

  Holding it before me, I walked towards the wall. When I felt the force there, I held the diamond against the wall, but nothing happened. But I pressed, and there was a white mark hanging in mid-air, where the stick had stopped. I moved the stick down, and a long white line formed in mid-air, to mark the progress of my arm. I cut to one side, then up again, and finally joined the sides at the top, until I had outlined a long square that hung there like the mark of a door. It was difficult work. The stick made a slight scratching sound as it moved. When I had finished I put my hand against the door I had made. The wall was still there!

  For moments I had been feeling new hope sweep through me, and now I was sickened inside again. Almost crying with rage, I leaned my body against the wall, wearily. Suddenly I was falling—through the wall! I went headlong to the floor, my feet swept from under me by the part of the wall that remained, for the door had started several feet from the ground.

  In an instant I was up. There on the floor lay a section of hard, transparent substance the exact size and shape of the door I had marked with the—the magic wand.

  I was free again!

  THERE was no time to take off the useless leaden suit, so I scooped up the sack, put it on my back again and went back the way I had been brought there. I reached the entrance to the building and looked out. It was late twilight. Far to one side, the golden sun shone through the dome, which I now surmised was made of the same substance that had composed my cell. Truly these people of the Haunted Land of Manhat-tan, these immortals were great, for who could have made such a thing?

  The landscape was deserted now, though here and there I heard voices that tinkled like bells, and although the sun was departing, light, soft and pale, glowed from everywhere. The flowers and trees and the mossy grass were lovely; the many buildings were marvelous to behold. But I had no time for contemplation. Somewhere Mira was a prisoner—or worse—and Aiyana had said she was going underground.

  Under the ground? Had these little folk also hollowed out the earth? I had to know, and if it proved so, to go there. Bending over to reduce my height, I ran along the grass, looking for a hole in the ground.

  By some instinct I seemed to be drawn to the spot where I had first come from, and there I spied my longbow and quiver of arrows. No one had taken them. Thankfully I slung them across my shoulders and took a new direction.

  I must have wandered about for more than two hours, but I saw nothing. The wonders and the terrors of this land were a closed world to me. How I wished for the knowledge that was Simon’s, so I might be able to meet these immortals as an equal! It seemed a hopeless task I had set myself.

  But then I remembered a trick of the hunter. When I had hunted bear, often the easiest way to find one was to go near their feeding ground. After that, one might go his way, confident that a bear would follow as soon as he had picked up the scent. That was my answer. If I wanted the under-the-ground place, the best way was to be led there—and the way to do that was to get some immortals who did not know me, to capture me, and not knowing I was a tribal chief take me where other mortals went. Then I would plan again, once I knew where Mira was. I had great faith now in Simon’s magic stick.

  I approached one of the buildings where I heard many voi
ces. There was singing and laughter coming out, and as I turned around a wall, I saw a large group of the little folk.

  “It is a mortal who stands here!” I shouted. Their frightened faces turned towards me, and in a moment all was confusion. With high-pitched screams they began to run back inside, but some broke away over the grass toward another building. Surprised at what had happened, but determined to be caught, I gave chase. With several large strides I had caught up to the hindmost of the immortals. I grabbed the little fellow and swung him up to my eye level. He was squealing with terror.

  “I am your prisoner,” I said. “Conduct me to the under-the-ground, for that is where all mortals go.”

  But instead of ordering me to follow him, the little man only wept and cried in fright. I realized I was still wearing the leaden suit.

  “Conduct me to the under-the-ground,” I said again. “I am but a mortal, though I wear this suit made of metal.”

  “No,” he screamed, tossing his silken head about, “no, the mortals there would imprison me!”

  Here was something new: an immortal afraid of a lesser being!

  “Then show me the way,” I said, gently, and I lowered him to the ground, keeping a hand on his shoulders. He could scarcely walk, but in a few moments we turned to a large edifice that stood in the ground like a white mountain. In the center was a closed door. The little man pointed to it, and as I let him go, he scampered away. Short cries greeted him and I realized that the shrubs and trees around me had been alive with little folk anxiously watching our progress.

  I opened the door. There was a small room there, and as I stepped in, the door closed behind me. Suddenly the floor trembled under my feet and I felt the room sinking. Faster and faster it went and dizziness tore at my brain and my stomach ached. I was falling in a pit—the room was a trap!

  Amazingly, I felt pressure on my calves, and I felt the room slowing in its descent. The sense of movement died. A door before me opened by itself.