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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31306-h.zip b/31306-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6961dc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/31306-h.zip diff --git a/31306-h/31306-h.htm b/31306-h/31306-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..29b65c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/31306-h/31306-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1615 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bride Of The Dark One, by Florence Verbell Brown + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Bride of the Dark One, by Florence Verbell Brown + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bride of the Dark One + +Author: Florence Verbell Brown + +Release Date: February 17, 2010 [EBook #31306] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIDE OF THE DARK ONE *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Planet Stories July 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="450" height="740" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="450" height="505" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1>BRIDE OF THE DARK ONE</h1> +<p> </p> +<h2>By FLORENCE VERBELL BROWN</h2> +<p> </p> +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The outcasts; the hunted of all the brighter worlds, crowded onto +Yaroto. But even here was there salvation for Ransome, the jinx-scarred +acolyte, when tonight was the night of Bani-tai ... the +night of expiation by the photo-memoried priests of dark Darion?</i></p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="31" height="40" /></div> + +<p>he last light in the Galaxy was a +torch. High in the rafters of Mytor's +Cafe Yaroto it burned, and its red +glare illuminated a gallery of the damned. +Hands that were never far from blaster or +knife; eyes that picked a hundred private +hells out of the swirling smoke where a +woman danced.</p> + +<p>She was good to look at, moving in time +to the savage rhythm of the music. The +single garment she wore bared her supple +body, and thighs and breasts and a cloud of +dark hair wove a pattern of desire in the +close room.</p> + +<p>Fat Mytor watched, and his little crafty +eyes gleamed. The Earth-girl danced like a +she-devil tonight. The tables were crowded +with the outcast and the hunted of all the +brighter worlds. The woman's warm body, +moving in the torchlight, would stir memories +that men had thought they left light +years behind. Gold coins would shower into +Mytor's palm for bad wine, for stupor and +forgetfulness.</p> + +<p>Mytor sipped his imported amber kali, +and the black eyes moved with seeming +casualness, penetrating the deep shadows +where the tables were, resting briefly on +each drunken, greedy or fear-ridden face.</p> + +<p>It was an old process with Mytor, nearly +automatic. A glance told him enough, the +state of a man's mind and senses and wallet. +This trembling wreck, staring at the woman +and nursing a glass of the cheapest green +Yarotian wine, had spent his last silver. +Mytor would have him thrown out. Another, +head down and muttering over a +tumbler of raw whiskey, would pass out +before the night was over, and wake in an +alley blocks away, with his gold in Mytor's +pocket. A third wanted a woman, and +Mytor knew what kind of a woman.</p> + +<p>When the dance was nearly over Mytor +heaved out of his chair, drew the rich +folds of his native Venusian tarab about his +bulk, and padded softly to a corner of the +room, where the shadows lay deepest. +Smiling, he rested a moist, jeweled paw on +the table at which Ransome, the Earthman, +sat alone.</p> + +<p>Blue eyes looked up coldly out of a weary, +lean face. The voice was bored.</p> + +<p>"I've paid for my bottle and I have nothing +left for you to steal. We have nothing +in common, no business together. Now, if +you don't mind, you're in my line of vision, +and I'd like to watch the finish of the +dance."</p> + +<p>The fat Venusian's smile only broadened.</p> + +<p>"May I sit down, Mr. Ransome?" he persisted. +"Here, out of your line of vision?"</p> + +<p>"The chair belongs to you," Ransome observed +flatly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>Covertly, as he had done for hours now, +Mytor studied the gaunt, pale Earthman in +the worn space harness. Ransome had apparently +dismissed the Venusian renegade +already, and his cold blue eyes followed the +woman's every movement with fixed intensity.</p> + +<p>The music swept on toward its climax and +the woman's body was a storm of golden +flesh and tossing black hair. Mytor saw the +Earthman's pale lips twist in the faint suggestion +of a bitter smile, saw the long +fingers tighten around the glass.</p> + +<p>Every man had his price on Yaroto, and +Ransome would not be the first Mytor had +bought with a woman. For a moment, Mytor +watched the desire brighten in Ransome's +eyes, studied the smile that some men wear +on the way to death, in the last moment +when life is most precious.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="16" height="40" /></div> +<p>n this moment Ransome was for sale. +And Mytor had a proposition.</p> + +<p>"You were not surprised that I knew your +name, Mr. Ransome?"</p> + +<p>"Let's say that I wasn't interested."</p> + +<p>Mytor flushed but Ransome was looking +past him at the woman. The Venusian wiped +his forehead with a soiled handkerchief, +drummed fat fingers on the table for a moment, +tried a different tack.</p> + +<p>"Her name is Irene. She's lovely, isn't +she, Mr. Ransome? Surely the inner worlds +showed you nothing like her. The eyes, +the red mouth, the breasts like—"</p> + +<p>"Shut up," Ransome grated, and the glass +shattered between his clenched fingers.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Mr. Ransome." Whiskey +trickled from the edge of the table in slow, +thick drops, staining Mytor's white tarab. +Ice was in the Venusian's voice. "Get out +of my place—now. Leave the whiskey, and +the woman. I have no traffic with fools."</p> + +<p>Ransome sighed.</p> + +<p>"I've told you, Mytor that you're wasting +your time. But make your pitch, if you +must."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Ransome, you do not care to +go out into the starless night. Perhaps there +are those who wait for you, eh? With very +long knives?"</p> + +<p>Reflex brought Ransome's hand up in a +lightning arc to the blaster bolstered under +his arm, but Mytor's damp hand was on his +wrist, and Mytor's purr was in his ear, the +words coming quickly.</p> + +<p>"You would die where you sit, you +fool. You would not live even to know the +sharpness of the long knives, the sacred +knives of Darion, with the incantations inscribed +upon their blades against blasphemers +of the Temple."</p> + +<p>Ransome shuddered and was silent. He +saw Mytor's guards, vigilant in the shadows, +and his hand fell away from the blaster.</p> + +<p>When the dance was ended, and the +blood was running hot and strong in him, +he turned to face Mytor. His voice was +impatient now, but his meaning was +shrouded in irony.</p> + +<p>"Are you trying to sell me a lucky charm, +Mytor?"</p> + +<p>The Venusian laughed.</p> + +<p>"Would you call a space ship a lucky +charm, Mr. Ransome?"</p> + +<p>"No," Ransome said grimly. "If it were +berthed across the street I'd be dead before +I got halfway to it."</p> + +<p>"Not if I provided you with a guard of +my men."</p> + +<p>"Maybe not. But I wouldn't have picked +you for a philanthropist, Mytor."</p> + +<p>"There are no philanthropists on Yaroto, +Mr. Ransome. I offer you escape, it is true; +you will have guessed that I expect some +service in return."</p> + +<p>"Get to the point." Ransome's eyes were +weary now that the woman's dancing no +longer held them. And there was little hope +in his voice.</p> + +<p>A man can put off a date across ten years, +and across a hundred worlds, and there can +be whiskey and women to dance for him. +But there was a ship with burned-out jets +lying in the desert outside this crumbling +city, and it was the night of Bani-tai, the +night of expiation in distant Darion, and +Ransome knew that for him, this was the +last world.</p> + +<p>After tonight the priests would proclaim +the start of a new Cycle, and the old debts, +if still unpaid, would be canceled forever.</p> + +<p>Ransome shrugged, a hopeless gesture. +Enough of the cult of the Dark One +lingered in the very stuff of his nerves and +brain to tell him that the will of the Temple +would be done.</p> + +<p>But Mytor was speaking again, and Ransome +listened in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"All the scum of the Galaxy wash up on +Yaroto at last," the fat Venusian said. +"That is why you and I are here, Mr. Ransome. +It is also why a certain pirate landed +his ship on the desert out there three days +ago. <i>Callisto Queen</i>, the ship's name is, +though it has borne a dozen others. Cargo—Jovian +silks and dyestuffs from the moons +of Mars, narco-vin from the system of +Alpha Centauri."</p> + +<p>Mytor paused, put the tips of fat fingers +together, and looked hard at Ransome.</p> + +<p>"Is all of that supposed to mean something +to me?" Ransome asked. A waiter +had brought over a glass to replace the +broken one, and he poured a drink for +himself, not inviting Mytor. "It doesn't."</p> + +<p>"It suggests a course, nothing more. In +toward Sol, out to Yaroto by way of Alpha +Centauri. Do you follow the courses of +pirate ships, Mr. Ransome?"</p> + +<p>"One," Ransome said savagely. "I've lost +track of her."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you know the <i>Callisto Queen</i> +better under her former name, then."</p> + +<p>Again Ransome's hand moved toward +the blaster, and this time Mytor made no +attempt to stop him. Ransome's thin lips +tightened with some powerful emotion, and +he half rose to look hard at Mytor.</p> + +<p>"The name of the ship?"</p> + +<p>"Her captain used to call her <i>Hawk of +Darion</i>."</p> + +<p>Ransome understood. <i>Hawk of Darion</i>, +hell ship driving through black space under +the command of a man he had once +sworn to kill. Eight years rolled back and +he saw them together, laughing at him: the +Earthman-captain and the woman who had +been Ransome's.</p> + +<p>"Captain Jareth," Ransome said slowly. +"Here—on Yaroto."</p> + +<p>The Venusian nodded, pushing the bottle +toward Ransome. The Earthman ignored the +gesture.</p> + +<p>"Is the woman with him?"</p> + +<p>Mytor smiled his feline smile. "You +would like to see her blood run under the +knives of the priests, no?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Ransome meant it. Somewhere, in the +years of flight, he had lost his love for the +blonde, red-lipped Dura-ki, and with it +had gone his bitter hatred and his desire for +revenge.</p> + +<p>He jerked his mind back to the present, +to Mytor.</p> + +<p>"And if I told you that it must be her +life or yours?" Mytor was asking him.</p> + +<p>Ransome's eyes widened. He sensed that +Mytor's last question was not, an idle one. +He leaned forward and asked:</p> + +<p>"How do you fit into this at all, Mytor?"</p> + +<p>"Easily. Once, ten years ago, you and the +woman now aboard the <i>Hawk of Darion</i> +blasphemed together against the Temple of +the Dark One, in Darion."</p> + +<p>"Go on," Ransome said.</p> + +<p>"When you landed here this afternoon +the avenging priests were not far behind +you."</p> + +<p>"How did you—"</p> + +<p>"I have many contacts," Mytor purred. "I +find them invaluable. But you are growing +impatient, Mr. Ransome. I will be brief. I +have contracted with the priests of Darion +to deliver you to them tonight for a considerable +sum."</p> + +<p>"How did you know you would find me?"</p> + +<p>"I was given your description." He made +a gesture that took in all the occupants of +the torch-lit room. "So many of the hunted, +and the haunted, come here to forget for +an hour the things that pursue them. I was +expecting you, Mr. Ransome."</p> + +<p>"If there is a large sum of money involved, +I'm sure you'll make every effort to +carry out your part of the bargain," Ransome +observed ironically.</p> + +<p>"I am a businessman, it is true. But in +my dealings with the master of the <i>Hawk +of Darion</i> I have seen the woman and I +have heard stories. It occurred to me that the +priests would pay much more for the woman +than they would for you, and it seemed to +me that a message from you might coax +her off the ship. After all, when one has +been in love—"</p> + +<p>"That's enough." Ransome had risen to +his feet. "I wonder if I could kill you before +your guards got to me."</p> + +<p>"Are you then so in love with death, +Ransome?" The Venusian spoke quickly. +"Don't be a fool. It is a small thing, a +woman's life—a woman who has betrayed +you."</p> + +<p>Ransome stood silent, his arm halfway +to his blaster. The woman had begun to +dance again in the red glare of the torch.</p> + +<p>"There will be other women," the +Venusian was murmuring. "The woman +who dances now, I will give her to you, +to take with you in your new ship."</p> + +<p>Ransome looked slowly from the glowing +body of the woman to the guards +around the walls, down into Mytor's confident +face. His arm dropped away from the +blaster.</p> + +<p>"Any man—for a price." The Venusian's +murmur was lost in the blare of the music. +Ransome had eased his lean body back into +the chair.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="31" height="40" /></div> +<p>he night air was cold against Ransome's +cheek when he went out an hour +later, surrounded by Mytor's men. Yaroto's +greenish moon was overhead now, but its +pale light did not help him to see more +clearly. It only made shadows in every +doorway and twisting alley.</p> + +<p>Mytor's car was only a few feet away but +before he could reach it he was shoved aside +by one of the Venusian's guards. At the +same moment the night flamed with the +blue-yellow glare from a dozen blasters. +Ransome raised his own weapon, staring +into the shadows, seeking his attackers.</p> + +<p>"That's our job. Get in," said one of +the guards, wrenching open the car door.</p> + +<p>Then the firing was over as suddenly as +it had begun. The guards clustered at the +opening of an alley down the street. Mytor's +driver sat impassively in the front seat.</p> + +<p>When the guards returned one of them +thrust something at Ransome, something +hard and cold. He glanced at it. A long +knife.</p> + +<p>There was no need to read the inscription +on the hilt. He knew it by heart.</p> + +<p>"Death to him who defileth the Bed of +the Dark One. Life to the Temple and City +of Darion."</p> + +<p>Once Ransome would have pocketed the +knife as a kind of grim keepsake. Now he +only let it fall to the floor.</p> + +<p>In the brief, ghostly duel just over he had +neither seen nor heard his attackers. That +added, somehow, to the horror of the thing.</p> + +<p>He shrugged off the thought, turning +his mind to the details of the plan by which +he would save his life.</p> + +<p>It was quite simple. Ransome had been +in space long enough to know where the +crewmen went on a strange world. Half an +hour later he sat with a gunner from the +<i>Hawk of Darion</i>, in one of the gaudy +pleasure houses clustered on the fringe of +the city near the spaceport and the desert +beyond.</p> + +<p>"Will you take the note to the Captain's +woman?"</p> + +<p>The man squirmed, avoiding Ransome's +ice-blue stare.</p> + +<p>"Captain killed the last man who looked +at his woman," the gunner muttered sullenly. +"Flogged him to death."</p> + +<p>"I'm not asking you to look at her," +Ransome reminded him.</p> + +<p>The gunner sat looking at the stack of +Mytor's money piled on the table before +him. A woman drifted over.</p> + +<p>"Go away," Ransome said, without raising +his eyes. He added another bill to the stack.</p> + +<p>"Let me see the note before I take it," +the gunner demanded.</p> + +<p>"It would mean nothing to you." Ransome +pushed a half-empty bottle toward the +man, poured him out another drink.</p> + +<p>The man's hands were trembling with +inner conflict as he measured the killing +lash against the stack of yellow Yarotian +kiroons, and the pleasures it would buy +him. He drank, dribbling a little of the +wine down his grimy chin, and then returned +to the subject of seeing the note, with +drunken persistence.</p> + +<p>"I got to see it first."</p> + +<p>"It's in a language you wouldn't—"</p> + +<p>"Let him see it," a new voice cut in. +"Translate it for him, Mr. Ransome."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="16" height="40" /></div> + +<p>t was a woman's voice, cold and contemptuous. +Ransome looked up quickly, +and at first he didn't recognize her. The +gunner never took his eyes from the stack +of kiroons on the table.</p> + +<p>"Let him see how a man murders a +woman to save his own neck."</p> + +<p>"You're supposed to be dancing at +Mytor's place," Ransome said. "That's your +business; this is mine."</p> + +<p>He closed his hand over the gunner's +wrist as the man reached convulsively for +the money, menaced now by the angry +woman.</p> + +<p>"Half now, the rest later." Ransome's +eyes burned into the crewman's. The latter +looked away. Ransome tightened his grip, +and pain contorted the gunner's features.</p> + +<p>"Look at me," Ransome said. "If you +cross me you'll wish you could die by flogging."</p> + +<p>The woman Mytor had called Irene was +still standing by the table when the gunner +had left with the note and his money.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to ask me to sit down?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Sit down."</p> + +<p>"I'd like a drink."</p> + +<p>She sipped her wine in silence and Ransome +studied her by the flickering light of +the candle burning on the table between +them.</p> + +<p>She wore a simple street dress now, in +contrast to the gaudy, revealing garments +of the pleasure house women. The beauty of +her soft, unpainted lips, her golden skin +and wide-set green eyes was more striking +now, seen at close range, than it had been +in the smoky cavern of Mytor's place.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking now, Ransome?"</p> + +<p>The question was unexpected, and Ransome +answered without forethought: "The +Temple."</p> + +<p>"You studied for the priesthood of the +Dark One yourself."</p> + +<p>"Did Mytor tell you that?"</p> + +<p>Irene nodded. The candlelight gave luster +to her dark hair and revealed the contours +of her high, firm breasts.</p> + +<p>Ransome's pulse speeded up just looking +at her. Then he saw that she was regarding +him as if he were something crawling +in damp stone, and there was bitterness +in him.</p> + +<p>"There are things that even Mytor doesn't +know, even omniscient Mytor—"</p> + +<p>He checked himself.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"You were going to tell me about how +you are really a very honorable man. Why +don't you? You have an hour before it will +be time to betray the woman from the +<i>Hawk of Darion</i>."</p> + +<p>Ransome shrugged, and his voice returned +her mockery.</p> + +<p>"If I told you that I had been an acolyte +in the Temple of the Dark One, and +that I was condemned to death for blasphemy, +committed for love of a woman, +would you like me better?"</p> + +<p>"I might."</p> + +<p>"Ten years ago," Ransome said. He +talked, and the mighty walls of the Temple +reared themselves around his mind, and the +music of the pleasure house became the +chanting of the priests at the high altar.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="37" height="40" /></div> + +<p>e stood at the rear of the great +Temple, and he had the tonsure and +the black robes, and his name was not +Ransome, but Ra-sed.</p> + +<p>He had almost forgotten his Terran name. +Forgotten, too, were his parents, and the +laboratory ship that had been his home +until the crash landing that had left him an +orphan and Ward of the Temple.</p> + +<p>Red candles burned before the high +altar, but terror began just beyond their +flickering light. It was dark where Ra-sed +stood, and he could hear the cries of the +people in the courtyard outside, and feel +the trembling of the pillars, the very pillars +of the Temple, and the groaning of stone on +massive stone in the great, shadowed arches +overhead. Above all, the chanting before +the altar of the Dark One, rising, rising toward +hysteria.</p> + +<p>And then, like a knife in the darkness, the +scream, and the straining to see which of +the maidens the sacred lots cast before the +altar had chosen; and the sudden, sick +knowledge that it was Dura-ki. Dura-ki, of +the soft golden hair and bright lips.</p> + +<p>In stunned silence, Ra-sed, acolyte, listened +to the bridal chant of the priests; the +ancient words of the Dedication to the Dark +One.</p> + +<p>The chant told of the forty times forty +flights of onyx steps leading downward behind +the great altar to the dwelling place of +the Dark One and of the forty terrible beasts +couched in the pit to guard His slumber.</p> + +<p>In the beginning, Dalir, the Sire, God of +the Mists, had gone down wrapped in a sea +fog, and had stolen the Sacred Fire while +the Dark One slept. All life in Darion had +come from Dalir's mystic union with the +Sacred Fire.</p> + +<p>Centuries passed before a winter of bitter +frosts came, and the Dark One awakened +cold in His dwelling place and found the +Sacred Fire stolen. His wrath moved beneath +the city then, and Darion crashed in +shattered ruin and death.</p> + +<p>Those who were left had hurled a maiden +screaming into the greatest of the clefts in +the earth, that the bed of the Idol might be +warmed by an ember of the stolen Fire. +Later, they had raised His awful Temple +on the spot.</p> + +<p>So it had been, almost from the beginning. +When the pillars of the Temple +shook, a maiden was chosen by the Sacred +Lots to go down as a bride to the Dark +One, lest He destroy the city and the +people.</p> + +<p>The chant had come to an end. The legend +had been told once more.</p> + +<p>They led her forth then—Dura-ki, the +chosen one. Shod in golden sandals, and +wearing the crimson robe of the ritual, she +moved out of Ra-sed's sight, behind the high +altar. No acolyte was permitted to approach +that place.</p> + +<p>The chanting was a thing of wild delirium +now, and Ra-set placed a cold hand to steady +himself against a trembling pillar. He heard +the drawing of the ancient bolts, the booming +echo as the great stone was drawn aside, +and he closed his eyes, as though that could +shut out the vision of the monstrous pit.</p> + +<p>But his ears he could not close, and he +heard the scream of Dura-ki, his own betrothed, +as they threw her to the Idol.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="36" height="40" /></div> +<p>t the table in the Yarotian pleasure +house, Ransome's thin lips were pale. +He swallowed his drink.</p> + +<p>The woman opposite him was nearly forgotten +now, and when he went on, it was +for himself, to rid himself of things that +had haunted him down all the bleak worlds +to his final night of betrayal and death. +His eyes were empty, fixed on another life. +He did not see the change that crossed +Irene's face, did not see the cold contempt +fade away, to be replaced slowly with understanding. +She leaned forward, lips slightly +parted, to hear the end of his story.</p> + +<p>For the love of golden-haired Dura-ki, the +acolyte, Ra-sed, had gone down into the +pit of the Dark one, where no mortal had +gone before, except as a sacrifice.</p> + +<p>He had hidden himself in the gloom of +the pillars when the others left in chanting +procession after the ceremony. Now he was +wrenching at the rusted bolts that held the +stone in place. It seemed to him that the +rumbling grew in the earth beneath his feet +and in the blackness of the vaulting overhead. +Terror was in him, for his blasphemy +would bring death to Darion. But the vision +of Dura-ki was in him too, giving strength +to tortured muscles. The bolts came away +with a metallic screech, piercing against the +mutter of shifting stone.</p> + +<p>He was turning to the heavy ring set in +the stone when he caught a glimmer of reflected +light in an idol's eye. Swiftly he +crouched behind the great stone, waiting.</p> + +<p>The priests came, two of them, bearing +torches. Knives flashed as Ra-sed sprang, but +he wrenched the blade from the hand of the +first, buried it in the throat of the second. +The man fell with a cry, but a stunning +blow from behind sent Ra-sed sprawling +across the fallen body. The other priest was +on him, choking out his life.</p> + +<p>The last torch fell; and Ra-sed twisted +savagely, lashed out blindly with the long +knife. There was a sound of rending cloth, +a muttered curse in the darkness, and the +fingers ground harder into Ra-sed's throat. +Black tides washed over his mind, and he +never remembered the second and last convulsive +thrust of the knife that let out the +life of the priest.</p> + +<p>He did remember straining against the +ring of the great stone. The echo boomed +out for the second time that night, as the +stone moved away at last, to lay bare the +realm of the Dark One.</p> + +<p>Bitterness touched Ransome's eyes as he +spoke now, the bitterness of a man who +has lost his God.</p> + +<p>"There were no onyx steps, no monsters +waiting beneath the stone. The legends were +false."</p> + +<p>Ransome turned his glass slowly, staring +into its amber depths. Then he became aware +of Irene, waiting for him to go on.</p> + +<p>"I got her out," Ransome said shortly. +"I went down into that stinking pit and I +got Dura-ki out. The air was nearly unbreathable +where I found her. She was unconscious +on a ledge at the end of a long +slope. Hell itself might have been in the +pit that opened beneath it. A geologist +would have called it a major fault, but it +was hell enough. When I picked her up, I +found the bones of all those others...."</p> + +<p>Irene's green eyes had lost their coldness. +She let her hand rest on his for a +moment. But her voice was puzzled.</p> + +<p>"This Dura-ki—she is the woman on the +<i>Hawk of Darion</i>?"</p> + +<p>Ransome nodded. He stood up. His lips +were a hard, thin line.</p> + +<p>"My little story has an epilogue. Something +not quite so romantic. I lived with +Dura-ki in hiding near Darion for a year, +until a ship came in from space. A pirate +ship, with a tall, good-looking Earthman for +a master. I took passage for Dura-ki, and +signed on myself as a crewman. A fresh start +in a bright, new world." Ransome laughed +shortly. "I'll spare you the details of that +happy voyage. At the first port of call, on +Jupiter, Dura-ki stood at the top of the +gangway and laughed when her Captain +Jareth had me thrown off the ship."</p> + +<p>"She betrayed you for the master of the +<i>Hawk of Darion</i>," Irene said softly.</p> + +<p>"And tonight she'll pay," Ransome finished +coldly. He threw down a few coins +to pay for their drinks. "It's been pleasant +telling you my pretty little story."</p> + +<p>"Ransome, wait. I—"</p> + +<p>"Forget it," Ransome said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="42" height="40" /></div> +<p>ytor's car was waiting, and Ransome +could sense the presence of the guards +lurking in the dark, empty street.</p> + +<p>"The spaceport," Ransome told his +driver. "Fast."</p> + +<p>He thought of the note he had given the +crewman to deliver:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Ra-sed would see his beloved a last time +before he dies."</p></div> + +<p>"Faster," Ransome grated, and the powerful +car leapt forward into the night.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="26" height="40" /></div> +<p>hips, like the men who drove them, +came to Yaroto to die. Three quarters +of the spaceport was a vast jungle of looming +black shapes, most of them awaiting the +breaker's hammer. Ransome dismissed the +car and threaded his way through the deserted +yards with the certainty of a man +used to the ugly places of a hundred +worlds.</p> + +<p>Mytor had suggested the meeting place, +a hulk larger than most, a cruiser once in +the fleet of some forgotten power.</p> + +<p>Ransome had fought in the ships of half +a dozen worlds. Now the ancient cruiser +claimed his attention. Martian, by the cut of +her rusted braking fins. Ransome tensed, remembering +the charge of the Martian +cruisers in the Battle of Phoebus. Since then +he had called himself an Earthman, because, +even if his parentage had not given him +claim to that title already, a man who had +been in the Earth ships at Phoebus had a +right to it.</p> + +<p>He was running a hand over the battered +plate of a blast tube when Dura-ki found +him. She was a smaller shadow moving +among the vast, dark hulls. With a curious, +dead feeling in him, Ransome stepped away +from the side of the cruiser to meet her.</p> + +<p>"Ra-sed, I could not let you die alone—"</p> + +<p>Because her voice was a ghost from the +past, because it stirred things in him that +had no right to live after all the long +years that had passed, Ransome acted before +Dura-ki could finish speaking. He hit +her once, hard; caught the crumpling body +in his arms, and started back toward Mytor's +car. If he remembered another journey in +the blackness with this woman in his arms, +he drove the memory back with the savage +blasphemies of a hundred worlds.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="35" height="40" /></div> +<p>n the rough floor of Mytor's place, +Dura-ki stirred and groaned.</p> + +<p>Ransome didn't like the way things were +going. He hadn't planned to return to the +Cafe Yaroto, to wait with Mytor for the +arrival of the priests.</p> + +<p>"There are a couple of my men outside," +Mytor told him. "When the priests are +spotted you can slip out through the rear +exit."</p> + +<p>"Why the devil do I have to be here +now?"</p> + +<p>"As I have told you, I am a businessman. +Until I have turned the girl over to the +priests I cannot be sure of my payment. +This girl, as you know, is not without +friends. If Captain Jareth knew that she was +here he would tear this place apart, he and +his crew. Those men have rather an impressive +reputation as fighters, and while +my guard here—"</p> + +<p>"You've been drinking too much of your +own rotten liquor, Mytor. Why should I +try to save her at the eleventh hour? To hand +her back to her lover?"</p> + +<p>"I never drink my own liquor, Mr. Ransome." +He took a sip of his kali in confirmation. +"I have seen love take many +curious shapes."</p> + +<p>Ransome stood up. "Save your memoirs. +I want a guard to get me to the ship you +promised me. And I want it now."</p> + +<p>Mytor did not move. The guards, ranged +around the walls, stood silent but alert.</p> + +<p>"Mytor."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Ransome?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't any ship. There never was."</p> + +<p>The Venusian shrugged. "It would have +been easier for you if you hadn't guessed. +I'm really sorry."</p> + +<p>"So you'll make a double profit on this +deal. I was the bait for Dura-ki, and Irene +was bait for me. You are a good businessman, +Mytor."</p> + +<p>"You are taking this rather better than +I had expected, Mr. Ransome."</p> + +<p>Ransome slumped down into his chair +again. He felt no fear, no emotion at all. +Somewhere, deep inside, he had known +from the beginning that there would be no +more running away after tonight, that the +priests would have their will with him. Perhaps +he had been too tired to care. And there +had been Irene, planted by Mytor to fill +his eyes, to make him careless and distracted.</p> + +<p>He wondered if Irene had known of her +role, or had been an unconscious tool, like +himself. With faint surprise, he found +himself hoping that she had not acted +against him intentionally.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="37" height="40" /></div> +<p>ura-ki was unconscious when the +priests came. She had looked at Ransome +only once, and he had stared down +at his hands.</p> + +<p>Now she stood quietly between two of the +black-robed figures, watching as others +counted out gold coins into Mytor's grasping +palm. Her eyes betrayed neither hope nor +fear, and she did not shrink from the +burning, fanatical stares of the priests, nor +from their long knives. The pirate's consort +was not the girl who had screamed in +the dimness of the Temple when the Sacred +Lots were cast.</p> + +<p>A priest touched Ransome's shoulder and +he started in spite of himself. He tried to +steady himself against the sudden chill that +seized him.</p> + +<p>And then Dura-ki, who had called him +once to blasphemy, now called him to something +else.</p> + +<p>"Stand up, Ra-sed. It is the end. The game +is played out and we lose at last. It will not +be worse than the pit of the Dark One."</p> + +<p>Ransome got to his feet and looked at +her. He no longer loved this woman but +her quiet courage stirred him.</p> + +<p>With an incredibly swift lunge he was +on the priest who stood nearest Dura-ki. +The man reeled backward and struck his +skull against the wall. It was a satisfying +sound, and Ransome smiled tightly, a half-forgotten +oath of Darion on his lips.</p> + +<p>He grabbed the man by the throat, spun +him around, and sent him crashing into another.</p> + +<p>A knife slashed at him, and he broke the +arm that held it, then sprang for the door +while the world exploded in blaster fire.</p> + +<p>Dura-ki moved toward him. He wrenched +at the door, felt the cold night air rash in. +A hand clawed at the girl's shoulder, but +Ransome freed her with a hard, well-aimed +blow.</p> + +<p>When she was outside, Ransome fought +to give her time to get back to the <i>Hawk +of Darion</i>. Also, he fought for the sheer +joy of it. The air in his lungs was fresh +again, and the taste of treachery was out of +his mouth.</p> + +<p>It took all of Mytor's guards and the +priests to overpower him, but they were too +late to save Mytor from the knife that left +him gasping out his life on the floor.</p> + +<p>Ransome did not struggle in the grip of +the guards. He stood quietly, waiting.</p> + +<p>"Your death will not be made prettier by +what you have done," a priest told him. The +knife was poised.</p> + +<p>"That depends on how you look at it," +Ransome answered.</p> + +<p>"Does it?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely," a hard, dry voice answered +from the doorway.</p> + +<p>Ransome turned his head and had a +glimpse of Irene. With her, a blaster level +in his hand, and his crew at his back, was +Captain Jareth. It was he who had answered +the priest's last question.</p> + +<p>Mytor had said that Jareth's crew had +an impressive reputation as fighters, and he +lived just long enough to see the truth of +his words. The priests and the guards went +down before the furious attack of the men +from the <i>Hawk of Darion</i>. Ransome fought +as one of them.</p> + +<p>When it was over, it was not to Captain +Jareth that he spoke, but to Irene.</p> + +<p>"Why did you do this? You didn't know +Dura-ki, and you despised me."</p> + +<p>"At first I did. That's why I agreed to +Mytor's plan. But when I had spoken to +you, I felt differently. I—"</p> + +<p>Jareth came over then, holstering his +blaster. Irene fell silent.</p> + +<p>The big spaceman shifted uneasily, then +spoke to Ransome.</p> + +<p>"I found Dura-ki near here. She told me +what you did."</p> + +<p>Ransome shrugged.</p> + +<p>"I sent her back to the ship with a couple +of my men."</p> + +<p>Abruptly, Jareth turned and stooped over +the still form of Mytor. From the folds of +the Venusian's stained tarab he drew a ring +of keys. He tossed them to Ransome.</p> + +<p>"This will be the first promise that Mytor +ever kept."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Those are the keys to his private ship. +I'll see that you get to it."</p> + +<p>It was Irene who spoke then. "That wasn't +all that Mytor promised him."</p> + +<p>The two men looked at her in surprise. +Then Ransome understood.</p> + +<p>"Will you come with me, Irene?" he asked +her.</p> + +<p>"Where?" Her eyes were shining, and +she looked very young.</p> + +<p>Ransome smiled at her. "The Galaxy is +full of worlds. And even the Dark One +cancels his debts when the night of Bani-tai +is over."</p> + +<p>"Let's go and look at some of those +worlds," Irene said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Bride of the Dark One, by Florence Verbell Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIDE OF THE DARK ONE *** + +***** This file should be named 31306-h.htm or 31306-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/0/31306/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bride of the Dark One + +Author: Florence Verbell Brown + +Release Date: February 17, 2010 [EBook #31306] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIDE OF THE DARK ONE *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Planet Stories July 1952. Extensive + research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on + this publication was renewed. + + + [Illustration] + + [Illustration] + + + BRIDE OF THE DARK ONE + + + By FLORENCE VERBELL BROWN + + + _The outcasts; the hunted of all the brighter worlds, + crowded onto Yaroto. But even here was there salvation for + Ransome, the jinx-scarred acolyte, when tonight was the + night of Bani-tai ... the night of expiation by the + photo-memoried priests of dark Darion?_ + + * * * * * + + + + +The last light in the Galaxy was a torch. High in the rafters of +Mytor's Cafe Yaroto it burned, and its red glare illuminated a gallery +of the damned. Hands that were never far from blaster or knife; eyes +that picked a hundred private hells out of the swirling smoke where a +woman danced. + +She was good to look at, moving in time to the savage rhythm of the +music. The single garment she wore bared her supple body, and thighs +and breasts and a cloud of dark hair wove a pattern of desire in the +close room. + +Fat Mytor watched, and his little crafty eyes gleamed. The Earth-girl +danced like a she-devil tonight. The tables were crowded with the +outcast and the hunted of all the brighter worlds. The woman's warm +body, moving in the torchlight, would stir memories that men had +thought they left light years behind. Gold coins would shower into +Mytor's palm for bad wine, for stupor and forgetfulness. + +Mytor sipped his imported amber kali, and the black eyes moved with +seeming casualness, penetrating the deep shadows where the tables +were, resting briefly on each drunken, greedy or fear-ridden face. + +It was an old process with Mytor, nearly automatic. A glance told him +enough, the state of a man's mind and senses and wallet. This +trembling wreck, staring at the woman and nursing a glass of the +cheapest green Yarotian wine, had spent his last silver. Mytor would +have him thrown out. Another, head down and muttering over a tumbler +of raw whiskey, would pass out before the night was over, and wake in +an alley blocks away, with his gold in Mytor's pocket. A third wanted +a woman, and Mytor knew what kind of a woman. + +When the dance was nearly over Mytor heaved out of his chair, drew the +rich folds of his native Venusian tarab about his bulk, and padded +softly to a corner of the room, where the shadows lay deepest. +Smiling, he rested a moist, jeweled paw on the table at which Ransome, +the Earthman, sat alone. + +Blue eyes looked up coldly out of a weary, lean face. The voice was +bored. + +"I've paid for my bottle and I have nothing left for you to steal. We +have nothing in common, no business together. Now, if you don't mind, +you're in my line of vision, and I'd like to watch the finish of the +dance." + +The fat Venusian's smile only broadened. + +"May I sit down, Mr. Ransome?" he persisted. "Here, out of your line +of vision?" + +"The chair belongs to you," Ransome observed flatly. + +"Thank you." + +Covertly, as he had done for hours now, Mytor studied the gaunt, pale +Earthman in the worn space harness. Ransome had apparently dismissed +the Venusian renegade already, and his cold blue eyes followed the +woman's every movement with fixed intensity. + +The music swept on toward its climax and the woman's body was a storm +of golden flesh and tossing black hair. Mytor saw the Earthman's pale +lips twist in the faint suggestion of a bitter smile, saw the long +fingers tighten around the glass. + +Every man had his price on Yaroto, and Ransome would not be the first +Mytor had bought with a woman. For a moment, Mytor watched the desire +brighten in Ransome's eyes, studied the smile that some men wear on +the way to death, in the last moment when life is most precious. + + * * * * * + +In this moment Ransome was for sale. And Mytor had a proposition. + +"You were not surprised that I knew your name, Mr. Ransome?" + +"Let's say that I wasn't interested." + +Mytor flushed but Ransome was looking past him at the woman. The +Venusian wiped his forehead with a soiled handkerchief, drummed fat +fingers on the table for a moment, tried a different tack. + +"Her name is Irene. She's lovely, isn't she, Mr. Ransome? Surely the +inner worlds showed you nothing like her. The eyes, the red mouth, the +breasts like--" + +"Shut up," Ransome grated, and the glass shattered between his +clenched fingers. + +"Very well, Mr. Ransome." Whiskey trickled from the edge of the table +in slow, thick drops, staining Mytor's white tarab. Ice was in the +Venusian's voice. "Get out of my place--now. Leave the whiskey, and +the woman. I have no traffic with fools." + +Ransome sighed. + +"I've told you, Mytor that you're wasting your time. But make your +pitch, if you must." + +"Ah, Mr. Ransome, you do not care to go out into the starless night. +Perhaps there are those who wait for you, eh? With very long knives?" + +Reflex brought Ransome's hand up in a lightning arc to the blaster +bolstered under his arm, but Mytor's damp hand was on his wrist, and +Mytor's purr was in his ear, the words coming quickly. + +"You would die where you sit, you fool. You would not live even to +know the sharpness of the long knives, the sacred knives of Darion, +with the incantations inscribed upon their blades against blasphemers +of the Temple." + +Ransome shuddered and was silent. He saw Mytor's guards, vigilant in +the shadows, and his hand fell away from the blaster. + +When the dance was ended, and the blood was running hot and strong in +him, he turned to face Mytor. His voice was impatient now, but his +meaning was shrouded in irony. + +"Are you trying to sell me a lucky charm, Mytor?" + +The Venusian laughed. + +"Would you call a space ship a lucky charm, Mr. Ransome?" + +"No," Ransome said grimly. "If it were berthed across the street I'd +be dead before I got halfway to it." + +"Not if I provided you with a guard of my men." + +"Maybe not. But I wouldn't have picked you for a philanthropist, +Mytor." + +"There are no philanthropists on Yaroto, Mr. Ransome. I offer you +escape, it is true; you will have guessed that I expect some service +in return." + +"Get to the point." Ransome's eyes were weary now that the woman's +dancing no longer held them. And there was little hope in his voice. + +A man can put off a date across ten years, and across a hundred +worlds, and there can be whiskey and women to dance for him. But there +was a ship with burned-out jets lying in the desert outside this +crumbling city, and it was the night of Bani-tai, the night of +expiation in distant Darion, and Ransome knew that for him, this was +the last world. + +After tonight the priests would proclaim the start of a new Cycle, and +the old debts, if still unpaid, would be canceled forever. + +Ransome shrugged, a hopeless gesture. Enough of the cult of the Dark +One lingered in the very stuff of his nerves and brain to tell him +that the will of the Temple would be done. + +But Mytor was speaking again, and Ransome listened in spite of +himself. + +"All the scum of the Galaxy wash up on Yaroto at last," the fat +Venusian said. "That is why you and I are here, Mr. Ransome. It is +also why a certain pirate landed his ship on the desert out there +three days ago. _Callisto Queen_, the ship's name is, though it has +borne a dozen others. Cargo--Jovian silks and dyestuffs from the moons +of Mars, narco-vin from the system of Alpha Centauri." + +Mytor paused, put the tips of fat fingers together, and looked hard at +Ransome. + +"Is all of that supposed to mean something to me?" Ransome asked. A +waiter had brought over a glass to replace the broken one, and he +poured a drink for himself, not inviting Mytor. "It doesn't." + +"It suggests a course, nothing more. In toward Sol, out to Yaroto by +way of Alpha Centauri. Do you follow the courses of pirate ships, Mr. +Ransome?" + +"One," Ransome said savagely. "I've lost track of her." + +"Perhaps you know the _Callisto Queen_ better under her former name, +then." + +Again Ransome's hand moved toward the blaster, and this time Mytor +made no attempt to stop him. Ransome's thin lips tightened with some +powerful emotion, and he half rose to look hard at Mytor. + +"The name of the ship?" + +"Her captain used to call her _Hawk of Darion_." + +Ransome understood. _Hawk of Darion_, hell ship driving through black +space under the command of a man he had once sworn to kill. Eight +years rolled back and he saw them together, laughing at him: the +Earthman-captain and the woman who had been Ransome's. + +"Captain Jareth," Ransome said slowly. "Here--on Yaroto." + +The Venusian nodded, pushing the bottle toward Ransome. The Earthman +ignored the gesture. + +"Is the woman with him?" + +Mytor smiled his feline smile. "You would like to see her blood run +under the knives of the priests, no?" + +"No." + +Ransome meant it. Somewhere, in the years of flight, he had lost his +love for the blonde, red-lipped Dura-ki, and with it had gone his +bitter hatred and his desire for revenge. + +He jerked his mind back to the present, to Mytor. + +"And if I told you that it must be her life or yours?" Mytor was +asking him. + +Ransome's eyes widened. He sensed that Mytor's last question was not, +an idle one. He leaned forward and asked: + +"How do you fit into this at all, Mytor?" + +"Easily. Once, ten years ago, you and the woman now aboard the _Hawk +of Darion_ blasphemed together against the Temple of the Dark One, in +Darion." + +"Go on," Ransome said. + +"When you landed here this afternoon the avenging priests were not far +behind you." + +"How did you--" + +"I have many contacts," Mytor purred. "I find them invaluable. But you +are growing impatient, Mr. Ransome. I will be brief. I have contracted +with the priests of Darion to deliver you to them tonight for a +considerable sum." + +"How did you know you would find me?" + +"I was given your description." He made a gesture that took in all the +occupants of the torch-lit room. "So many of the hunted, and the +haunted, come here to forget for an hour the things that pursue them. +I was expecting you, Mr. Ransome." + +"If there is a large sum of money involved, I'm sure you'll make every +effort to carry out your part of the bargain," Ransome observed +ironically. + +"I am a businessman, it is true. But in my dealings with the master of +the _Hawk of Darion_ I have seen the woman and I have heard stories. +It occurred to me that the priests would pay much more for the woman +than they would for you, and it seemed to me that a message from you +might coax her off the ship. After all, when one has been in love--" + +"That's enough." Ransome had risen to his feet. "I wonder if I could +kill you before your guards got to me." + +"Are you then so in love with death, Ransome?" The Venusian spoke +quickly. "Don't be a fool. It is a small thing, a woman's life--a +woman who has betrayed you." + +Ransome stood silent, his arm halfway to his blaster. The woman had +begun to dance again in the red glare of the torch. + +"There will be other women," the Venusian was murmuring. "The woman +who dances now, I will give her to you, to take with you in your new +ship." + +Ransome looked slowly from the glowing body of the woman to the guards +around the walls, down into Mytor's confident face. His arm dropped +away from the blaster. + +"Any man--for a price." The Venusian's murmur was lost in the blare of +the music. Ransome had eased his lean body back into the chair. + + * * * * * + +The night air was cold against Ransome's cheek when he went out an +hour later, surrounded by Mytor's men. Yaroto's greenish moon was +overhead now, but its pale light did not help him to see more clearly. +It only made shadows in every doorway and twisting alley. + +Mytor's car was only a few feet away but before he could reach it he +was shoved aside by one of the Venusian's guards. At the same moment +the night flamed with the blue-yellow glare from a dozen blasters. +Ransome raised his own weapon, staring into the shadows, seeking his +attackers. + +"That's our job. Get in," said one of the guards, wrenching open the +car door. + +Then the firing was over as suddenly as it had begun. The guards +clustered at the opening of an alley down the street. Mytor's driver +sat impassively in the front seat. + +When the guards returned one of them thrust something at Ransome, +something hard and cold. He glanced at it. A long knife. + +There was no need to read the inscription on the hilt. He knew it by +heart. + +"Death to him who defileth the Bed of the Dark One. Life to the Temple +and City of Darion." + +Once Ransome would have pocketed the knife as a kind of grim keepsake. +Now he only let it fall to the floor. + +In the brief, ghostly duel just over he had neither seen nor heard his +attackers. That added, somehow, to the horror of the thing. + +He shrugged off the thought, turning his mind to the details of the +plan by which he would save his life. + +It was quite simple. Ransome had been in space long enough to know +where the crewmen went on a strange world. Half an hour later he sat +with a gunner from the _Hawk of Darion_, in one of the gaudy pleasure +houses clustered on the fringe of the city near the spaceport and the +desert beyond. + +"Will you take the note to the Captain's woman?" + +The man squirmed, avoiding Ransome's ice-blue stare. + +"Captain killed the last man who looked at his woman," the gunner +muttered sullenly. "Flogged him to death." + +"I'm not asking you to look at her," Ransome reminded him. + +The gunner sat looking at the stack of Mytor's money piled on the +table before him. A woman drifted over. + +"Go away," Ransome said, without raising his eyes. He added another +bill to the stack. + +"Let me see the note before I take it," the gunner demanded. + +"It would mean nothing to you." Ransome pushed a half-empty bottle +toward the man, poured him out another drink. + +The man's hands were trembling with inner conflict as he measured the +killing lash against the stack of yellow Yarotian kiroons, and the +pleasures it would buy him. He drank, dribbling a little of the wine +down his grimy chin, and then returned to the subject of seeing the +note, with drunken persistence. + +"I got to see it first." + +"It's in a language you wouldn't--" + +"Let him see it," a new voice cut in. "Translate it for him, Mr. +Ransome." + + * * * * * + +It was a woman's voice, cold and contemptuous. Ransome looked up +quickly, and at first he didn't recognize her. The gunner never took +his eyes from the stack of kiroons on the table. + +"Let him see how a man murders a woman to save his own neck." + +"You're supposed to be dancing at Mytor's place," Ransome said. +"That's your business; this is mine." + +He closed his hand over the gunner's wrist as the man reached +convulsively for the money, menaced now by the angry woman. + +"Half now, the rest later." Ransome's eyes burned into the crewman's. +The latter looked away. Ransome tightened his grip, and pain contorted +the gunner's features. + +"Look at me," Ransome said. "If you cross me you'll wish you could die +by flogging." + +The woman Mytor had called Irene was still standing by the table when +the gunner had left with the note and his money. + +"Aren't you going to ask me to sit down?" + +"Certainly. Sit down." + +"I'd like a drink." + +She sipped her wine in silence and Ransome studied her by the +flickering light of the candle burning on the table between them. + +She wore a simple street dress now, in contrast to the gaudy, +revealing garments of the pleasure house women. The beauty of her +soft, unpainted lips, her golden skin and wide-set green eyes was more +striking now, seen at close range, than it had been in the smoky +cavern of Mytor's place. + +"What are you thinking now, Ransome?" + +The question was unexpected, and Ransome answered without forethought: +"The Temple." + +"You studied for the priesthood of the Dark One yourself." + +"Did Mytor tell you that?" + +Irene nodded. The candlelight gave luster to her dark hair and +revealed the contours of her high, firm breasts. + +Ransome's pulse speeded up just looking at her. Then he saw that she +was regarding him as if he were something crawling in damp stone, and +there was bitterness in him. + +"There are things that even Mytor doesn't know, even omniscient +Mytor--" + +He checked himself. + +"Well?" + +"Nothing." + +"You were going to tell me about how you are really a very honorable +man. Why don't you? You have an hour before it will be time to betray +the woman from the _Hawk of Darion_." + +Ransome shrugged, and his voice returned her mockery. + +"If I told you that I had been an acolyte in the Temple of the Dark +One, and that I was condemned to death for blasphemy, committed for +love of a woman, would you like me better?" + +"I might." + +"Ten years ago," Ransome said. He talked, and the mighty walls of the +Temple reared themselves around his mind, and the music of the +pleasure house became the chanting of the priests at the high altar. + + * * * * * + +He stood at the rear of the great Temple, and he had the tonsure and +the black robes, and his name was not Ransome, but Ra-sed. + +He had almost forgotten his Terran name. Forgotten, too, were his +parents, and the laboratory ship that had been his home until the +crash landing that had left him an orphan and Ward of the Temple. + +Red candles burned before the high altar, but terror began just beyond +their flickering light. It was dark where Ra-sed stood, and he could +hear the cries of the people in the courtyard outside, and feel the +trembling of the pillars, the very pillars of the Temple, and the +groaning of stone on massive stone in the great, shadowed arches +overhead. Above all, the chanting before the altar of the Dark One, +rising, rising toward hysteria. + +And then, like a knife in the darkness, the scream, and the straining +to see which of the maidens the sacred lots cast before the altar had +chosen; and the sudden, sick knowledge that it was Dura-ki. Dura-ki, +of the soft golden hair and bright lips. + +In stunned silence, Ra-sed, acolyte, listened to the bridal chant of +the priests; the ancient words of the Dedication to the Dark One. + +The chant told of the forty times forty flights of onyx steps leading +downward behind the great altar to the dwelling place of the Dark One +and of the forty terrible beasts couched in the pit to guard His +slumber. + +In the beginning, Dalir, the Sire, God of the Mists, had gone down +wrapped in a sea fog, and had stolen the Sacred Fire while the Dark +One slept. All life in Darion had come from Dalir's mystic union with +the Sacred Fire. + +Centuries passed before a winter of bitter frosts came, and the Dark +One awakened cold in His dwelling place and found the Sacred Fire +stolen. His wrath moved beneath the city then, and Darion crashed in +shattered ruin and death. + +Those who were left had hurled a maiden screaming into the greatest of +the clefts in the earth, that the bed of the Idol might be warmed by +an ember of the stolen Fire. Later, they had raised His awful Temple +on the spot. + +So it had been, almost from the beginning. When the pillars of the +Temple shook, a maiden was chosen by the Sacred Lots to go down as a +bride to the Dark One, lest He destroy the city and the people. + +The chant had come to an end. The legend had been told once more. + +They led her forth then--Dura-ki, the chosen one. Shod in golden +sandals, and wearing the crimson robe of the ritual, she moved out of +Ra-sed's sight, behind the high altar. No acolyte was permitted to +approach that place. + +The chanting was a thing of wild delirium now, and Ra-set placed a +cold hand to steady himself against a trembling pillar. He heard the +drawing of the ancient bolts, the booming echo as the great stone was +drawn aside, and he closed his eyes, as though that could shut out the +vision of the monstrous pit. + +But his ears he could not close, and he heard the scream of Dura-ki, +his own betrothed, as they threw her to the Idol. + + * * * * * + +At the table in the Yarotian pleasure house, Ransome's thin lips were +pale. He swallowed his drink. + +The woman opposite him was nearly forgotten now, and when he went on, +it was for himself, to rid himself of things that had haunted him down +all the bleak worlds to his final night of betrayal and death. His +eyes were empty, fixed on another life. He did not see the change that +crossed Irene's face, did not see the cold contempt fade away, to be +replaced slowly with understanding. She leaned forward, lips slightly +parted, to hear the end of his story. + +For the love of golden-haired Dura-ki, the acolyte, Ra-sed, had gone +down into the pit of the Dark one, where no mortal had gone before, +except as a sacrifice. + +He had hidden himself in the gloom of the pillars when the others left +in chanting procession after the ceremony. Now he was wrenching at the +rusted bolts that held the stone in place. It seemed to him that the +rumbling grew in the earth beneath his feet and in the blackness of +the vaulting overhead. Terror was in him, for his blasphemy would +bring death to Darion. But the vision of Dura-ki was in him too, +giving strength to tortured muscles. The bolts came away with a +metallic screech, piercing against the mutter of shifting stone. + +He was turning to the heavy ring set in the stone when he caught a +glimmer of reflected light in an idol's eye. Swiftly he crouched +behind the great stone, waiting. + +The priests came, two of them, bearing torches. Knives flashed as +Ra-sed sprang, but he wrenched the blade from the hand of the first, +buried it in the throat of the second. The man fell with a cry, but a +stunning blow from behind sent Ra-sed sprawling across the fallen +body. The other priest was on him, choking out his life. + +The last torch fell; and Ra-sed twisted savagely, lashed out blindly +with the long knife. There was a sound of rending cloth, a muttered +curse in the darkness, and the fingers ground harder into Ra-sed's +throat. Black tides washed over his mind, and he never remembered the +second and last convulsive thrust of the knife that let out the life +of the priest. + +He did remember straining against the ring of the great stone. The +echo boomed out for the second time that night, as the stone moved +away at last, to lay bare the realm of the Dark One. + +Bitterness touched Ransome's eyes as he spoke now, the bitterness of a +man who has lost his God. + +"There were no onyx steps, no monsters waiting beneath the stone. The +legends were false." + +Ransome turned his glass slowly, staring into its amber depths. Then +he became aware of Irene, waiting for him to go on. + +"I got her out," Ransome said shortly. "I went down into that stinking +pit and I got Dura-ki out. The air was nearly unbreathable where I +found her. She was unconscious on a ledge at the end of a long slope. +Hell itself might have been in the pit that opened beneath it. A +geologist would have called it a major fault, but it was hell enough. +When I picked her up, I found the bones of all those others...." + +Irene's green eyes had lost their coldness. She let her hand rest on +his for a moment. But her voice was puzzled. + +"This Dura-ki--she is the woman on the _Hawk of Darion_?" + +Ransome nodded. He stood up. His lips were a hard, thin line. + +"My little story has an epilogue. Something not quite so romantic. I +lived with Dura-ki in hiding near Darion for a year, until a ship came +in from space. A pirate ship, with a tall, good-looking Earthman for a +master. I took passage for Dura-ki, and signed on myself as a crewman. +A fresh start in a bright, new world." Ransome laughed shortly. "I'll +spare you the details of that happy voyage. At the first port of call, +on Jupiter, Dura-ki stood at the top of the gangway and laughed when +her Captain Jareth had me thrown off the ship." + +"She betrayed you for the master of the _Hawk of Darion_," Irene said +softly. + +"And tonight she'll pay," Ransome finished coldly. He threw down a few +coins to pay for their drinks. "It's been pleasant telling you my +pretty little story." + +"Ransome, wait. I--" + +"Forget it," Ransome said. + + * * * * * + +Mytor's car was waiting, and Ransome could sense the presence of the +guards lurking in the dark, empty street. + +"The spaceport," Ransome told his driver. "Fast." + +He thought of the note he had given the crewman to deliver: + + "Ra-sed would see his beloved a last time before he dies." + +"Faster," Ransome grated, and the powerful car leapt forward into the +night. + + * * * * * + +Ships, like the men who drove them, came to Yaroto to die. Three +quarters of the spaceport was a vast jungle of looming black shapes, +most of them awaiting the breaker's hammer. Ransome dismissed the car +and threaded his way through the deserted yards with the certainty of +a man used to the ugly places of a hundred worlds. + +Mytor had suggested the meeting place, a hulk larger than most, a +cruiser once in the fleet of some forgotten power. + +Ransome had fought in the ships of half a dozen worlds. Now the +ancient cruiser claimed his attention. Martian, by the cut of her +rusted braking fins. Ransome tensed, remembering the charge of the +Martian cruisers in the Battle of Phoebus. Since then he had called +himself an Earthman, because, even if his parentage had not given him +claim to that title already, a man who had been in the Earth ships at +Phoebus had a right to it. + +He was running a hand over the battered plate of a blast tube when +Dura-ki found him. She was a smaller shadow moving among the vast, +dark hulls. With a curious, dead feeling in him, Ransome stepped away +from the side of the cruiser to meet her. + +"Ra-sed, I could not let you die alone--" + +Because her voice was a ghost from the past, because it stirred things +in him that had no right to live after all the long years that had +passed, Ransome acted before Dura-ki could finish speaking. He hit her +once, hard; caught the crumpling body in his arms, and started back +toward Mytor's car. If he remembered another journey in the blackness +with this woman in his arms, he drove the memory back with the savage +blasphemies of a hundred worlds. + + * * * * * + +On the rough floor of Mytor's place, Dura-ki stirred and groaned. + +Ransome didn't like the way things were going. He hadn't planned to +return to the Cafe Yaroto, to wait with Mytor for the arrival of the +priests. + +"There are a couple of my men outside," Mytor told him. "When the +priests are spotted you can slip out through the rear exit." + +"Why the devil do I have to be here now?" + +"As I have told you, I am a businessman. Until I have turned the girl +over to the priests I cannot be sure of my payment. This girl, as you +know, is not without friends. If Captain Jareth knew that she was here +he would tear this place apart, he and his crew. Those men have rather +an impressive reputation as fighters, and while my guard here--" + +"You've been drinking too much of your own rotten liquor, Mytor. Why +should I try to save her at the eleventh hour? To hand her back to her +lover?" + +"I never drink my own liquor, Mr. Ransome." He took a sip of his kali +in confirmation. "I have seen love take many curious shapes." + +Ransome stood up. "Save your memoirs. I want a guard to get me to the +ship you promised me. And I want it now." + +Mytor did not move. The guards, ranged around the walls, stood silent +but alert. + +"Mytor." + +"Yes, Mr. Ransome?" + +"There isn't any ship. There never was." + +The Venusian shrugged. "It would have been easier for you if you +hadn't guessed. I'm really sorry." + +"So you'll make a double profit on this deal. I was the bait for +Dura-ki, and Irene was bait for me. You are a good businessman, +Mytor." + +"You are taking this rather better than I had expected, Mr. Ransome." + +Ransome slumped down into his chair again. He felt no fear, no emotion +at all. Somewhere, deep inside, he had known from the beginning that +there would be no more running away after tonight, that the priests +would have their will with him. Perhaps he had been too tired to care. +And there had been Irene, planted by Mytor to fill his eyes, to make +him careless and distracted. + +He wondered if Irene had known of her role, or had been an unconscious +tool, like himself. With faint surprise, he found himself hoping that +she had not acted against him intentionally. + + * * * * * + +Dura-ki was unconscious when the priests came. She had looked at +Ransome only once, and he had stared down at his hands. + +Now she stood quietly between two of the black-robed figures, watching +as others counted out gold coins into Mytor's grasping palm. Her eyes +betrayed neither hope nor fear, and she did not shrink from the +burning, fanatical stares of the priests, nor from their long knives. +The pirate's consort was not the girl who had screamed in the dimness +of the Temple when the Sacred Lots were cast. + +A priest touched Ransome's shoulder and he started in spite of +himself. He tried to steady himself against the sudden chill that +seized him. + +And then Dura-ki, who had called him once to blasphemy, now called him +to something else. + +"Stand up, Ra-sed. It is the end. The game is played out and we lose +at last. It will not be worse than the pit of the Dark One." + +Ransome got to his feet and looked at her. He no longer loved this +woman but her quiet courage stirred him. + +With an incredibly swift lunge he was on the priest who stood nearest +Dura-ki. The man reeled backward and struck his skull against the +wall. It was a satisfying sound, and Ransome smiled tightly, a +half-forgotten oath of Darion on his lips. + +He grabbed the man by the throat, spun him around, and sent him +crashing into another. + +A knife slashed at him, and he broke the arm that held it, then sprang +for the door while the world exploded in blaster fire. + +Dura-ki moved toward him. He wrenched at the door, felt the cold night +air rash in. A hand clawed at the girl's shoulder, but Ransome freed +her with a hard, well-aimed blow. + +When she was outside, Ransome fought to give her time to get back to +the _Hawk of Darion_. Also, he fought for the sheer joy of it. The air +in his lungs was fresh again, and the taste of treachery was out of +his mouth. + +It took all of Mytor's guards and the priests to overpower him, but +they were too late to save Mytor from the knife that left him gasping +out his life on the floor. + +Ransome did not struggle in the grip of the guards. He stood quietly, +waiting. + +"Your death will not be made prettier by what you have done," a priest +told him. The knife was poised. + +"That depends on how you look at it," Ransome answered. + +"Does it?" + +"Absolutely," a hard, dry voice answered from the doorway. + +Ransome turned his head and had a glimpse of Irene. With her, a +blaster level in his hand, and his crew at his back, was Captain +Jareth. It was he who had answered the priest's last question. + +Mytor had said that Jareth's crew had an impressive reputation as +fighters, and he lived just long enough to see the truth of his words. +The priests and the guards went down before the furious attack of the +men from the _Hawk of Darion_. Ransome fought as one of them. + +When it was over, it was not to Captain Jareth that he spoke, but to +Irene. + +"Why did you do this? You didn't know Dura-ki, and you despised me." + +"At first I did. That's why I agreed to Mytor's plan. But when I had +spoken to you, I felt differently. I--" + +Jareth came over then, holstering his blaster. Irene fell silent. + +The big spaceman shifted uneasily, then spoke to Ransome. + +"I found Dura-ki near here. She told me what you did." + +Ransome shrugged. + +"I sent her back to the ship with a couple of my men." + +Abruptly, Jareth turned and stooped over the still form of Mytor. From +the folds of the Venusian's stained tarab he drew a ring of keys. He +tossed them to Ransome. + +"This will be the first promise that Mytor ever kept." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Those are the keys to his private ship. I'll see that you get to it." + +It was Irene who spoke then. "That wasn't all that Mytor promised +him." + +The two men looked at her in surprise. Then Ransome understood. + +"Will you come with me, Irene?" he asked her. + +"Where?" Her eyes were shining, and she looked very young. + +Ransome smiled at her. "The Galaxy is full of worlds. And even the +Dark One cancels his debts when the night of Bani-tai is over." + +"Let's go and look at some of those worlds," Irene said. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Bride of the Dark One, by Florence Verbell Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIDE OF THE DARK ONE *** + +***** This file should be named 31306.txt or 31306.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/0/31306/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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