Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  Barry tore his eyes from the terrible spectacle of these unclean savages caught in the turbulent stream of their own enraged passions. His gaze swung to the center of the arena, and cold film of perspiration broke on his face.

  For, tied to an immense pillar, were the forms of Linda, McGregor and Allerton. McGregor’s fiery red head was thrown back in rage, but Allerton was slumped limply against the column. He would have fallen if it hadn’t been for the thongs that bound him to the pillar. Linda was standing calmly, her head high, but there was a desperate terror in her eyes.

  Barry took in the entire dreadful scene in one flickering instant, before he was shoved roughly through the howling mass of savages toward the sacrificial pillar.

  Half stumbling, half falling, he almost lost consciousness as the maddened mob, incited by the vision of more victims, clawed at his face and clothes. Shrieking children were held high by foaming-mouthed mothers, to strike at his face and head with small fists, clenched around sharp rocks.

  If it hadn’t been for his escort he would have been torn to pieces before he had traveled a dozen feet. As it was, the mob was shoved away, the rows of bestially contorted faces falling aside like waves before the prow of a ship.

  At last the nightmare passage was made and Barry was shoved against the pillar beside Linda. Heavy leather thongs were whipped about his shoulders and arms, the ends of the bonds were jerked tight through crude stone loops which had been chiselled into the pillar. In another few seconds the battered figure of the professor was hauled through the crowd and tied beside him.

  The old man’s white head slumped forward to his breast and his knees buckled, until only the pressure of the thongs kept him from falling.

  The savage horde fell back from them then and squatted on the floor, their heads and eyes directed toward the shaft of moonlight that speared through the volcano opening, flooding the amphitheatre with its ghostly blue light.

  From their throats poured a deafening, throbbing chant that filled the vast arena with its ominous volume. They seemed more like savage hounds baying at the mystery of the moon, than human creatures.

  Barry twisted against his bonds until he could look down at Linda. His throat was tight as he saw the tiny smile she forced to her trembling lips.

  “Will it be—swift?” she asked softly,

  “I think so,” he said.

  There had been a thousand things in his mind to say to this girl but now they were gone. Or rather the necessity for saying them was gone. Somehow their silence seemed to be saying more than any words could.

  “Boss!” It was McGregor’s voice, cheerfully undismayed. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again this side of creation. Things look dark, don’t they? If I could get my hands free for a minute I’d show these howling apes a trick or two.”

  “Barry,” Linda whispered, “will you please hold my hand? I don’t want to be afraid.”

  Barry twisted until he could hold her small cold hand in his.

  “You won’t be,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

  “I hope my father doesn’t regain consciousness,” she said, a moment later. “If he goes—not knowing—it will be easier.”

  THEY talked then for a while.

  Barry told her how he had been brought to the place and of meeting her father. Against the background of, the kneeling cave men and their savage, chilling chant, the tale lost its sense of unreality. Linda explained, aided by occasional profane comments from McGregor, how they had been attacked and captured by the marauding horde of savages and brought to their underground dwelling after a forced march through the almost impassible jungle.

  Further conversation was made impossible then by a tremendous roar from the barbaric mob which ringed about them. Several dozen of the huge men had sprung to their feet and were hurrying to the archway through which Barry had been led. A wild commotion was raging at the entrance to the arena. The excitement communicated itself to the farthest corners of the hall, and almost as a single man, the kneeling horde rose to its feet, screaming maniacally.

  Barry saw then the cause of the intense excitement. A small band of cave men had entered the arena, in their center was the slim dark-haired bird-girl. There was no fear in her lean haughty face, but her expressive eyes flashed vainly about the hall, like tiny birds flying at the bars of an invisible cage. Her arms were bound, and her great black wings hung at her side. Barry noticed that the wing which had been broken was still encased in the crude splint which the professor had applied.

  The insane demonstration of the horde reached new heights as the slim figure of the bird-girl was shoved through their midst. Fierce, gnarled hands grabbed at the long silky wing feathers that flowed behind her, and, in some case, came away holding them clutched triumphantly.

  The girl stared straight ahead, her head held high, her lustrous black hair streaming back to her shoulders. There was something scorning and disdainful in the proud set of her shoulders, the rigid arrogance of her bearing.

  “She is magnificent!” Linda breathed.

  The inner fringes of the mob split and the bird-girl was shoved roughly into the cleared space about the pillar. One of the guards lumbered to the column and began untying a bundle of leather braids that had been lashed to one of the stone loops, while the other kept his grip on the bird-girl’s bound arms.

  She was standing almost directly in front of Barry, and her dark inscrutable eyes settled on his with a fixed stare.

  There was no expression on her features. They remained sternly and haughtily set, but there was a peculiar, questioning quality in the look she fixed on him.

  Barry saw that her injured wing hung straight and clear from her side and that while the splint was crude and cumbersome, it shouldn’t seriously affect her flying.

  If she had the chance to fly . . .

  The thought struck him and simultaneously he acted. The one idea in his mind was that if there was any chance of this creature escaping, any possibility of cheating the barbarous cave men of her torture and death, he wanted to give her that chance.

  HIS legs weren’t bound and the bird-girl’s massive guard was standing within three feet of him. Flattening his back against the pillar for more leverage, he jerked his knee up and lashed out with his boot-shod foot. His swiftly traveling, powerfully driven foot caught the surprised guard in the pit of the stomach. With a wild yell of pain he clasped both hands to his belly and sank in agony to the floor.

  For an instant the bird-girl stood rooted to the spot, staring stupidly at the writhing figure of the guard. A half dozen of the cave men were leaping for her, but still she remained motionless, her eyes swinging from the fallen guard to Barry. She looked at him an instant, her black eyes as unrevealing as ever; then, with a gloriously lithe and free motion, she leaped into the air. Her great wings spread mightily and beat like fluttering drums as she soared upwards.

  Pandemonium raged in the jammed arena.

  Barry twisted about and saw that the bird-girl was already a dozen feet above his head, circling upward with slow steady beats. Even at that distance it was apparent she was favoring her injured wing, for she was veering slightly to the right with each wing stroke.

  Roaring with rage, a dozen of the cave men hurled their stone axes at the slowly ascending figure of the bird-girl. Barry held his breath as the missiles flashed past her miraculously missing their mark.

  “Oh God!” he cried. “Let her make it!”

  If it wasn’t for the girl’s weakened wing she would have been out of range by then, but she was forced to fly painfully and slowly, gaining only a few feet with each laborious circling of the arena.

  The guard whom Barry had kicked crawled sluggishly to his feet, his bestial face contorted with rage. Barry was gazing upward at the desperately laboring girl, when something like a sledge hammer crashed into the side of his face. His head snapped back against the stone pillar with a sickening crunch, and the last thing he heard was Linda’s scream . . .

&n
bsp; WHEN he opened his eyes again his head was throbbing painfully, but he saw that the assembled tribe of cave men were again on their haunches, their eyes fixed in mystic concentration on the bright shaft of moonlight that streamed through the opening of the volcano.

  Linda’s hand squeezed his warmly.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  “I seem to be,” he said groggily. “What hit me?”

  “The brute you kicked,” Linda said angrily. “He struck you when you weren’t looking.”

  Barry grinned bitterly and spat the salty blood from his mouth. Linda’s fingers tightened on his hand again.

  “Barry,” she whispered, “she made it!”

  CHAPTER VII

  Thor’s Mighty Hammer

  “FINE,” Barry said grimly. “How long have I been out?”

  “About an hour, I think,” Linda said. “You have a nasty bump on the back of your head. It hurt me just to look at it.”

  Barry swung his eyes over the arena. The hundreds of savages who filled the place from wall to wall, were waiting in ominous, expectant silence. Their eyes were riveted to the small opening at the apex of the vaulted ceiling, and gleaming with unholy fervor. The only sound was that of their hoarse breathing. Barry saw then that the shaft of moonlight struck the ground about twenty feet from the pillar to which they were bound, and it was moving inexorably toward them. They were directly under the opening through which the moonlight poured, and in a short while the moon would pass directly overhead. Then the shaft of light would strike them directly, bathing them completely in its calm soft radiance.

  Barry realized then for what the crouching savages were waiting. They were waiting for the inevitable rotation of the moon to point its finger of light at the victims bound to the sacrificial pillar.

  When that happened the crouching cave men would slake their blood thirst. Glancing down at his feet, Barry repressed an involuntary shiver as he noticed faded rusty stains at the foot of the column. Only, .he knew, they weren’t rust stains.

  Linda looked up at him and smiled faintly.

  “In fifteen minutes it will be over,” she said softly. Her eyes turned involuntarily to the shaft of brilliant light, creeping closer and closer, then she looked back at him. “I understand,” she said quietly.

  Barry felt thankful that she had guessed why the cave men were waiting. He wouldn’t like having to tell her.

  He heard a faint sobbing sound then and, twisting about, he saw that Allerton was regaining consciousness. The man’s big body seemed somehow shrunken. His face was pallid and the strands of wheat colored hair that fell over his forehead was dark with perspiration. There was a furtive, fearful light in his eye as his gaze flicked over the watching, waiting cave men.

  “I don’t want to die,” he whispered hoarsely. That was all he said, but every shuddering breath he drew was like a moan.

  “If you start blubbering,” McGregor said with terrible earnestness, “I’ll get my hands loose if it’s the last thing I do and choke you till your tongue hangs down your shirt front. Remember that!”

  The imperceptibly advancing shaft of moonlight was now only five feet from the pillar and Barry noticed a sudden stir in the silent ranks of the cave men.

  THE huge, tremendously muscled brute who had led the party, which had captured Linda and McGregor, was striding through the crouching ranks of the cave men and on his shoulder he carried the brilliantly flashing stone that was lashed into the forked end of his club.

  A murmur rippled through the tensely watching savages as this impressive creature shoved his way through them and advanced to the base of the pillar to which the victims were tied.

  Barry saw with a quick glance that the fatal shaft of light was already touching one side of the pillar, spreading its illumination over McGregor and Allerton. In a few minutes it would completely bathe them with its deadly brilliance.

  The huge savage shouted a stream of unintelligible sounds, his coarse features working insanely, the terrible light in his small, close-set eyes gleaming with the lustful fever for blood.

  He leaped from one foot to the other in a wild dance that was hideous in its suggestion of bestial emotion and raw savagery, continuing at the time, to scream his wild words into the night. Swinging the glittering stone about his head he hopped in and out of the shaft of moonlight, bellowing in a mad ecstasy when the radiant light touched him, and whining in a dreadful monotone when his leaps carried him into the darkness again.

  Then raising the club high above his head he dashed it to the ground at their feet. Instantly a crescendoing detonation split the air and a brilliant bolt of light flashed up from the earth, searing their faces with its blinding heat.

  With a wild cry the cave savage hurled himself to the ground, grabbed the glittering hammer and scrambled to his feet again.

  Once again the nightmarish dance began, the whirling club gleaming with a thousand refracted lights as it spun crazily about the head of the impassioned dancer.

  A steadily growing chant was rising from the tensely watching tribe. Their eyes were like tiny sparks of hell-fire in the darkness, and their whitely gleaming teeth crunched and champed as the hoarse mouthings of their dancer rose to new heights of frenzy.

  Barry held Linda’s hand tightly.

  “Chin up,” he said quietly. “It will soon be over.”

  The feverishly mad gyrations of the dancing savage were reaching a climax. The shaft of moonlight was inevitably spreading over the pillar. Now all but a tiny portion of the blood altar was gleaming palely under its mellow luminescence.

  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 cav
e 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.