by Don Wilcox
They were gathered on the ridge, under the stars. The angry edged fingers of the vine began to hop swiftly back and forth through a half mile semi-circle.
“Wish!” the king called.
“We’re wishing!” came a score of responses.
To Joe’s utter amazement, the vine began to retreat. It struck off across the Karridonzan valley like a runaway.
“Where’s it going?”
“It will come back,” the king said confidently. “It’s never been known to cross the purple mists.”
But as they watched, Joe saw that it did cross the mists. It went out of sight on the distant horizon, in the direction of the skystation.
For a long moment they watched in silence. Then Nadoff said, “We’d better get back into the woods. It will soon be daylight, and some air spinner will catch us here.”
“No, we’ll wait here,” King Arvo said quietly. “Keep wishing.”
CHAPTER XXII
Joe thought King Arvo had lost everything. Nadoff started down the slope, and as the word spread to the rest of the group, Joe knew that they were all going to leave.
“Seevia . . . Seevia . . .”
“It’s coming back!” Joe shouted. “Stay with us! It’s coming!”
Nadoff turned. Everyone could see it now. They waited, wishing.
“Seevia . . . Seevia . . . Seevia . . .” The king’s chant was lost in the excited jumble of voices. Yes, it was whirling back like a luminous inverted twister. There was angry power, Joe thought. It whipped over the purple mist, it raced down into the valley, it leaped over villages.
The fingers weren’t visible: Perhaps they were lost in the whirl; or they were transparent in the early morning sunlight. But many branches could be seen, flaring out like lightning, then jumping back to spin around the central stem.
“It’s bringing something!” King Arvo shouted. “It’s bringing something big!”
Within a mile of them it slowed its pace. Now it glided over the ground between them and the fortress.
It guided them on. King Arvo and Nadoff were in solid agreement: They should follow it. They should use it as a smoke screen. The rays couldn’t penetrate the lavender vine, Joe knew. And now it was everyone’s secret. “Follow the vine! It’s leading us!” It didn’t happen suddenly, as Joe and many others had hoped. It was a long, tedious two-hour march, even with the vine’s protection against the rays. For no one succeeded in getting into the vine until it had come to rest within two hundred yards of the palace.
But through those two hours of marching, it continually screened them. And three times it shot out an angry arm at the approaching air spinners. The spinners whirled about and tried again. Flash! One of them went down, and there was a crash and a flare of fire. The other two sped away in search of a healthier climate.
“The vine is still carrying something,” Arvo kept repeating. “It must have picked up something big on the other side of the mists.”
The palace ray guns were slicing the earth from the top of the ridge on either side of the lavender vine. The air was streaked with red and silver lines. Stobber and his Sashes were making it hot for them now. They moved ahead under difficulties. Tree tops jumped. Hilltops leaped from their bases. Sprays of dirt bounced and fell; but through the clouds of dust the rebel army advanced.
“Keep back of the vine!” Nadoff yelled. “Watch it! It’s going over the ridge.”
Joe bounded over the ridge, then stopped, crouching, while the hundreds of others rushed up to take a new position. Those rays were quick death for any who couldn’t leap fast enough. And a few of them got it, every time the vine swerved for a new position. He was glad he had persuaded Marcia to remain hidden with the women at the night’s camp. If the palace could be captured, he knew that she and the others would soon be there.
“It’s going to drop its load,” King Arvo yelled. “Keep back.”
The huge twisted lavender stem was so large that its vibrating roots covered half of the two hundred yards that now separated the ridge from the palace. It was settling down, a massive cylinder of light, right at the edge of the execution grounds.
There it deposited its load—a building.
It was the handsome new skyscraper from the Karridonza skystation! The vine had picked up the building in one piece and carried it back to transplant it.
Joe watched the lavender fingers cut away the ground; he saw the swirling trunk exert its mighty pressure as the building settled down into place. No ray could touch it. The swirl of lavender grew thinner, but it was still there, spiraling its screen of safety. Under the forenoon sun it showed as a thin pinkish haze. The white building within its whirl reflected its tinted light.
“Now!” King Arvo cried. “Into the vine! It’s all yours. Your fortress. Come on, come on!”
CHAPTER XXIII
The rebel army flowed into the building. It was a godsend and they knew it. They filled its lobby, clamoring for orders. What next? How would they proceed with their attack?
Nadoff held his head. The clamor was too much for him. The slaves were racing from one room to another, jubilant. They shouted with joy, as if the victory had already been won. They had given many a roof to Karridonza. And the lavender vine was returning the favor. It was theirs—this beautiful building! And it was wonderful!
Joe tried to shout them down.
“Quiet, you wild men! You’re in danger! The vine won’t stay here long. As soon as it goes, the ray guns will chop this structure right down to the ground! Quiet! Quiet!”
Nadoff found the king and put a
microphone before him. The loud speaker silenced the shouting.
“Listen to me!” Arvo commanded. “This is a surprise on all of us. We didn’t ask for it. It just came. All we asked for was a showdown with Nitticello and his defenders. And we know they are in the palace, with all of the weapons of the fortress at their command. Why the lavender vine brought us this building from the sky station we don’t know. But the vine is on our side. And as long as it doesn’t leave us exposed to the rays, this is our fortress.”
The rebel army cheered. Joe shuddered. They were feeling too confident.
“Now,” King Arvo called, “Nadoff and I have a plan. We’ll send four squads from four directions to break into the palace and kidnap Nitti. If we can bring him back, we’ll make him radio across to Stobber and the ray gunners—”
King Arvo’s speech was interrupted by a cry from the wide curved stairs in one corner of the wide lobby.
“Nitti is here. In the building. I saw him!”
It was a girl’s voice—Marcia Melinda’s! Yes, it was she, disguised as a townsman. She had marched with the rebel army after all.
“Where did you see him?” Arvo shouted.
“He was up here on the balcony the minute we entered. He ran up to the next floor. I followed him to be sure. He ran on up the stairs, looking for a place to hide.”
So the vine had answered the wish! Joe saw it plainly now. They had wanted a showdown with Nitti. But Nitti wasn’t at the palace. He had chased off to the skystation to buy the headquarters he needed for his big deal. But the vine had gone after him.
It had cleared the building of everyone but Nitti, and then it had lifted him—building and all—and brought him back to face the rebel army.
“Come down from there, Marcia Melinda!” the king cried. He was breaking a path through the mob, marching toward the stairs. Joe was beating a trail in the same direction.
Ahead of them, eighteen or twenty slaves bounded up the curved stairway waving clubs and knives. They meant to find Nitti.
“No!” King Arvo shouted. “This is my fight. Come back!”
No one noticed whether they obeyed or not, for at that moment a volley of shots sounded from the other side of the lobby. The Sashes were pouring in!
From then on, it was a free fight. Clubs and knives and pitchforks against whips, knives and ray pistols. Only the pistols wouldn’t work! The Sashes moved in,
intending to mow the rebel army down with a scythe of ray fire. But they were in the vine. The guns were dead. The Sashes discovered this fact and they started to back away. The wide entrance jammed. Other Sashes were pushing in from behind. The plan for a quick devastating attack was fouling up.
Clang! Clack! Clatter! The Sashes were suddenly throwing their pistols right and left. Then they pushed in with swords and whips.
Nadoff caught the signal from King Arvo. He climbed to a shelf in the wall. He seized a statuette and hurled it at the advancing Sashes. He dodged a flying knife—and he laughed in the faces of his enemy.
The ring of Nadoff’s laugh was enough to make his slave followers rush into the fray with death. Clang! Crash! Thump! The fury resounded through the wide marble-walled lobby.
Joe struck down three Sashes on his way to the stairs. He wanted Nitti. Nitti’s thousands of crimes pounded through his mind. The inexcusable beatings. The constant robberies. The interplanetary plot. Murders and murders—and the near murders that had been foiled only by fate . . . Arvo and Marcia!
Where was Marcia!
She must have led a squad of slaves up the stairs to find Nitti!
Joe reached the balcony. He raced up the next flight. Three slaves lay in the corridor. Two were dying. The third, clutching his arm, was writhing in pain.
“Nitti?” Joe cried.
“He’s got a needle!” the slave groaned.
Another flight. Two more casualties on the stairs. Then Nitti—and Marcia!
The prime minister was having a murder spree. You could see it in the hunch of his shoulders. He had trapped his favorite victim at the end of the corridor. He was moving toward her, clasping the needle, making ready.
Marcia’s eyes were wide with terror. She might have screamed—or maybe she couldn’t!
At the sound of Joe’s running steps he whirled. Joe plunged for him. He swung with the needle. Joe caught his arm and threw it wide. The needle jammed into the wall. Then Joe tore into him with a tackle that spun the two of them to the floor.
The prime minister was no match for Joe, and it might have ended there if Marcia Melinda hadn’t rushed into the fray armed with a short heavy wooden club. Marcia swung just as her target fell. The blow missed Nitti but caught Joe across the side of the head. He saw dancing comets.
“Joe! Oh, Joe! Come out of it. He’s getting away!”
The girl was slapping his cheeks. He stared. The floor and walls were still weaving, but he knew he had to get to his feet.
“Did he get you?” Joe mumbled.
“No. I’m all right. But if you hadn’t come—” She was breathless, tugging at his arm. He came up blinking. The needle was still in the wall. What of Nitti?
“Quick! This way!” Marcia cried. “He’s trying the next stairs up. But the door’s solid. It’s locked. I tried. Quick, we can catch him.”
Nitti had already found his way blocked. Now he dodged back into the corridor. His eyes flashed white at Joe. He wasn’t going to chance another encounter. He reversed his course and took the stairs down.
The chase was on. Back and forth and down another flight. Over the bodies of Nitti’s victims and down another. Down the last curving stairs toward the lobby. Joe was right at his heels, Marcia following.
Strangely, the free-for-all in the lobby had come to a dead stop. For an instant Joe couldn’t understand why. Sashes and rebels alike were staring at the high lobby ceiling as if hypnotized. Then Joe saw. The hazy lavender light had thickened along the upper walls and gathered into a clearly visible claw overhead.
Fingers of the vine! They glowed with a ghastly pink light. They were curved like immense steel hooks. The back of the lavender hand moved slowly beneath the ceiling. The great fingers twitched as if ready to pounce.
Under this spell it was no wonder that the whole roomful of chaos had frozen into a tableau of terror. Nitti, catching the threat, stopped abruptly on the last step. Joe and Marcia held back, and Joe’s heart skipped a thump as he gauged the anger in the hovering vine. But there was Nitti. Joe moved down the steps slowly, his fists tight.
“No, Joe!” Marcia called.
Everyone in the lobby heard. Everyone saw what she did. For a quick moment her action stung Joe. Then he knew that she was right. She tossed her club out into the lobby toward a figure in a regal blue uniform with gold epaulettes.
“To his majesty, King Arvo!” She sang out the challenge, and every Sash and rebel and slave understood.
Joe saw Arvo’s eyes flash as he caught the club out of the air. The lavender hand held back. The lobby made way for him. He moved toward Nitti.
Nitti stood on the bottom step, club in hand, waiting. Then his arms folded with that wonderful poise of his, and Joe saw his face tighten with the old lines of arrogance.
“Your majesty!” Nitti said, giving a slight bow. “You’ve made a serious mistake. But I can help you out of it.”
“I’ve made no mistake this time,” Arvo said through clenched teeth. He came on. His steps were measured.
But Nitti meant to play the old game of arguing him out of his purpose. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret Arvo. Let’s talk this over.” That smooth line, Joe thought. Would it work?
“No regrets,” said Arvo. “I’m going to beat the life out of you, Nitticello, and there’ll be no regrets.”
“Wait, Arvo. Your majesty!” Terror broke the prime minister’s voice. “If you’ve got grievances, I’ll listen. Don’t be a beast!”
“The people of Karridonza may judge who is a beast!”
No rebel could have marched against a foe with a more convincing show of righteous indignation. Arvo raised his club to strike. And Joe was proud of him; for Joe knew that if Arvo lived through this fight he would never be bluffed out again, never.
The club was ready to swing when Nitti screeched, “Look out! The vine!”
It might have been a last trick, but it wasn’t. Joe saw the angry fingers swoop down from the ceiling. They pierced down between the king and Nitti. They stiffened. They glided toward Nitti. He backed away. The fingers followed—and Arvo followed—and after him came the whole lobby full of rebels and Sashes, determined to see this clash to the finish.
The fingers forced the prime minister out the door. It was a moving drama followed by an audience that was virtually hypnotized.
“Let them fight it out!”
Joe didn’t realize he had said it aloud until he caught the nod of agreement from Marcia. If wishes could have controlled the vine in that tense moment, the king would surely have had his chance to put a quick end to the kingdom’s oppressor.
And he meant to. He bit his words savagely. “You can’t escape me now, Nitticello. The vine’s on my side.” Nitti flung back, “you’re lying. The vine is protecting me. It’s always protected me. I know the secrets.”
“Then you know that the vine gives back what you give to others.” Arvo advanced into the sunshine. The thin fingers of lavender still separated them as Nitti backed away. “What have you given to others, Nitticello? Death. The vine will give it back to you.”
It was the thick surly voice of Stobber, chief of the Sashes, that shouted an obscene taunt in answer to the king’s words. Joe hadn’t seen him, but he must have been waiting on the outside of the building, directing his Sashes from a position of safety. Now he stepped into the opening in front of the crowd and began shooting.
He shot into the group indiscriminately, and cut a swath of death through the foreranks of the rebels. The ray pistol—it was working! Now that the vine had gathered into a claw it had left a space beneath. A space for pistol fire, unguarded!
Nine slaves and townsmen melted away under Stobber’s quick blast. Nadoff fell, but Joe thought the fire missed him. The Sashes were electrified by the act. Pistols would work again. There would have been an instantaneous stampede for discarded pistols if, in that split second, the lavender vine hadn’t taken the violence in its own angry hands.
The claw of t
he vine leaped and seized Stobber. It caught him by the handsome green and orange mane over the top of his head and lifted him off the ground. The ray gun went dead.
“Stobber!” Nitti cried. The vine’s fingers no longer protected him, and the king was after him. “Stobber! Help me, Stobber! Save me!”
Stobber was being lifted, and Nitti ran to him and grabbed his feet and tried to pull him down. The claw of the vine was rising. Nitti held on. He was kicking but he was afraid to let go. He couldn’t let go, Joe thought. The vine had both of them.
The two of them were carried over the king’s station in the center of the execution grounds, and Nitti’s dangling feet kicked the switches and tripped against the red handle at the upper end of the blue metal bar. Joe wondered if any of the red came off on Nitti’s boot.
A moment later the claw lowered. The two men in its grip, swaying like a pendulum, went down into the disintegration machine.
The invisible walls of disintegration moved in from both sides and sliced away at the human pendulum. The crowd hushed. Everyone saw what was happening. Nitti and Stobber dissolved swiftly. Within a minute or two there was nothing left but the crest of Stobber’s skull with the green and orange mane—the handle by which he had been held.
This remaining bit of Stobber was still caught in the vine’s grip as the whole tower of lavender light rose slowly and drifted up into the sunshine—over the ridge and out across the valley. When Joe last saw it, the vine appeared to be lowering and dissolving above the marshes.
“That clinches it for Arvo,” Joe whispered to Marcia as they watched in awe from the edge of the crowd.
“Yes,” Marcia said, “He’s won his right to be king.”
“He’s won his right to practically anything he wants,” Joe said stonily, not looking at Marcia.
CHAPTER XXIV
A few hours later King Arvo stood at the window of one of his palace rooms, talking into the telephone. His prime minister had called. “Prime Minister Nadoff speaking.”